I haven’t been back to Scotland, my motherland, for a long time. Beeswing is a game about small-town Scotland released a few days ago. It is written in snippets of philosophy and folklore. It is told through hand-drawn maps and gentle guitar strokes. It is Final Fantasy on a small scale, in the spirit of Yumei Nikki, hand-illustrated and studded with the kind of Scottish duality people don’t talk about any more. In Beeswing I feel acquainted with death, but not in a morbid way. In Beeswing I feel like I am home in summers of Loch Lomond watching bees suckle pink flowers and dance between the heads of heather. I wanted to call my mother at a point, in fact, a thing I forget to do but Beeswing tattooed it into my consciousness. Beeswing sent me home.
