Wanderstop Review – A Mostly Delightful Anxi-Tea Simulator

In April 2019, my life fell apart. Despite enduring what felt like month-long panic attacks leading up to this ordeal, I only realized how bad everything had gotten when I woke up in the hospital, body draped in a violently purple hospital gown that I still have no recollection of putting on. I spent a couple days and a thousand or so dollars in that hospital room, an uncomfortable combination of dazed and defeated, mostly. But I also remember feeling absurdly grateful. I was in a space where nothing was expected of me. I had been completely removed from the rest of the living, breathing, working population. It was as if I didn’t exist. And it’s terrifying to think about how desperately I wanted that back then.

Prior to my rejoining society, I was given a choice: I could seek further treatment and attempt to address my various ailments, or I could walk out those doors largely unchanged (apart from being hundreds of dollars poorer). Treatment meant time and money: two things I never felt I had enough of. But as I considered my next steps, the psychiatrist across from me set down her clipboard and told me something I’ll never forget.

“If you don’t make time to take care of yourself, your body will make time for you–and you probably won’t like when or how it does.”

And so, I decided to make the time.

It’s by having lived through that period of my life that I found so much of Ivy Road’s Wanderstop relatable. Wanderstop is a “cozy” game that serves as a reminder of how incomprehensibly uncomfortable being cozy can be when you’ve grown unaccustomed to it. Though there is no shortage of emotionally resonant games out there–many of which I’ve played, adored, and deeply related to–Wanderstop is among the first to both portray and elicit the anxiety, discomfort, and anger that comes with healing. While that might sound, well, awful, to be honest, Wanderstop does a great job of weaving humor and kindness into these sensations, making them far more digestible. Charming characters, introspective writing, and a bright and beautifully scored world further elevate the overall experience. And though the game would benefit from improved gameplay, more cohesion between its gameplay and its overarching story, and less-sporadic voice acting, I ultimately found Wanderstop to be a sweet experience that touches on some of the less-explored aspects of overcoming mental health struggles.

At the center of Wanderstop’s compelling exploration of mental health is Alta, a fierce warrior whose entire self-worth and identity are tied to her combat prowess. Up until the start of the game, this served Alta just fine, as she was more than good at fighting: She was the best to ever do it. But after a series of defeats sends Alta spiraling, the fighter embarks upon a journey to find a reclusive combat master whom she believes can help her reclaim her former glory. However, as she delves deeper into the woods the former warrior is rumored to inhabit, Alta grows weaker. So weak, in fact, she can no longer move or wield her sword.

Fortunately, a monk-esque tea shop owner, Boro, finds Alta and decides to bring the young woman back to the whimsical clearing he calls home. After listening to her troubles, Boro gently suggests that Alta take a break from fighting and help him serve tea to those who stumble upon the magical cafe. Alta is less than enchanted by Boro, the tea shop, and his proposition. After all, how will brewing tea make her a better fighter? How will taking a break from her training–while her body is already at its weakest, mind you–make her any stronger? Her frustration is more than understandable–it’s palpable. And all this makes for a fascinating premise that hooked me immediately.

Despite Wanderstop not fully leaning into being a farming sim, shop-management title, or cozy game, it incorporates elements from all of these in its gameplay. During her stay at the mythical tea shop, Alta is encouraged to tend to the shop’s gardens, grow new plant hybrids, and brew specific types of teas that will appeal to the strange-yet-charming characters who stumble upon the cafe. Actually doing all this is extremely easy thanks to the game’s focus on simplistic controls–which primarily boil down to clicking on items to either collect or use them. However, gameplay can also feel clunky at times, and I found myself clicking on the wrong thing, dropping items, and frequently getting frustrated by the way it handles its various inventories. And while Wanderstop is good about giving you in-game books that provide Alta with helpful tips and guidance, it doesn’t remedy these mechanical issues. Still, I tried to remain “zen” as Boro repeatedly emphasized that there are no quotas, time limits, or stakes involved in the process.

At first, this was something that bothered both Alta and myself, as there are periods of time in which either nothing happens or there is very little to do. As business came to a lull, I’d find myself pressing down the button that highlights visitors, hoping that someone might have something to tell me or a new task that needed doing. When nothing panned out there, I’d double-check that I’d grown all the available hybrid plants, cut down weeds, raked away leaves, and sent off any mysterious packages I’d found back to their owners. But even then, there were times when the only thing left to do was put on the kettle (or the massive series of funnels and beakers taking up the majority of the store’s square footage, rather), sit back, and enjoy a cup of tea.

It was admittedly funny noticing my own similarities to Alta–how perfectionism and this need to perform seem to almost possess us. And it was clever seeing how Wanderstop’s minimal gameplay, emphasis on the temporary, and its relaxed disposition contribute to the game’s overarching narrative, which preaches that letting go and periods of “doing nothing” are actually extremely important to self-preservation. To be completely honest, it led to this sort of internal conflict in which I had to keep asking myself if Wanderstop’s gameplay was a bit lacking or if I just truly have zero chill. Then again, was that precisely the conversation Ivy Road wanted me to have with myself?

The jury is still out on all this, but regardless, I did find myself wishing that the gameplay was either more compelling by itself or more directly attached to Alta’s story. As it stands, Wanderstop’s day-to-day gameplay feels more like a way to pass time between chapters, or Meditations, and largely just draws attention to how much stronger the game’s narrative component is. And to be clear, I really was enchanted by Wanderstop’s story, with its twists, tenderness, and poignant commentary. But as a result, I grew increasingly more desperate to escape the clunky controls and sense of vacancy that made up the bulk of the game, and just get to the good parts.

It was also disheartening how all of the shop’s visitors–while charming!–had little impact on Alta or Wanderstop’s story as a whole. Though everyone had their own struggles that they needed to tread down their own paths to come to terms with, Boro reminded me, ultimately these side characters felt a bit removed from the rest of the game. Another contributing factor to this overall sense of disconnect was the fact that none of these characters are voiced. Had they been, I think it would have made them more relatable and endearing, as well as made Alta’s good-yet-sporadic voice acting feel less peculiar. By the time the game came to an end, I also didn’t feel as if things felt particularly resolved for Alta and her fellow tea-drinkers–and “well, that’s just another allegory in itself!” just doesn’t quite rationalize it.

Where Wanderstop shines, however, is in its visuals and music. The glade Wanderstop’s mythical tea shop inhabits, and the tea shop itself, are beautiful. I adored wandering through the cotton-candy-like trees, foraging for mushrooms, taking in the star-studded skies, and seeing what spectacular crop would burst forth from the seeds I planted. I also enjoyed how, over time, the grounds change a bit, swapping in new color palettes that are every bit as delightful to look at as the last and making things feel fresh. The tea shop’s interior is bizarre yet quaint, with roaring fireplaces, tall bookshelves, a waterfall-dishwasher, and plenty of quirky gizmos and self-moving ladders. Similarly, there is an interesting juxtaposition with the game’s characters, who at times seem contemporary yet also hold job titles such as “demon slayer” and don fantasy-esque clothing. I was always intrigued as to who I would see next, be they a fellow fighter or spectre-like entity.

It probably comes as no surprise that Wanderstop’s music is phenomenal, as C418 of Minecraft fame held the reins. In some ways, his work on Wanderstop is reminiscent of Minecraft, with its chill yet somber vibes. However, it also has this delightful Spirited Away-esque quality that perfectly fits the game’s atmosphere. Though I might not have loved its gameplay, simply existing in Wanderstop’s world was a treat.

Wanderstop, at its core, is the type of game that I suspect a player will need to play at precisely the right time in life to truly connect with. As its story (and Alta) unraveled around me, I was reminded of my own struggles and kept thinking about how comforting it might have been back then. Regardless, I adore the fact that it exists and will surely serve that purpose for so many others. It’s an audiovisual delight, its narrative and characters are memorable, and I applaud the way it tackles burnout and how self-destructive productivity can be–especially in a time when just about every other influencer is preaching hustle culture and life optimization. That said, Wanderstop is not for everyone, and its gameplay and rough edges create a formidable barrier to truly enjoying what it does well.