The Indie Informer

Is it possible to feel nostalgia for a zeitgeist you never experienced — that may never have really existed at all? Though Keep Driving is thoroughly European, the road trip is a venerated concept in car-centric American culture. Route 66, drive-ins, and the silver screen all harken back to a time when the open road meant freedom. While I didn’t live through any of this in its heyday (and considering it has come down to me via advertisements and media with particular motives for painting the pavement like a picturesque scene the reality is questionable) there’s still a piece of me ready for that promised adventure.

Keep Driving taps into the road trip fantasy and delivers a game where the journey truly is the destination. It’s not all carefree, with a host of problems from stubborn sheep to potholes to contend with, but the unique sense of choice, replayability, and branching narrative manifest the promise in its title. I can’t stop driving.

It’s not listed among the game’s various genre tags, but Keep Driving most closely resembles a rogue-lite. Though its other listed categories (including Adventure, Simulation, and RPG), are also key pillars. A “run” — though in this game it might be more thematic to call it a drive — begins at home.

I step out of my house as a teenager with a free summer, the open road, and a letter in front of me. Inside the envelope is an invitation to a music festival clear across the map. Looking over my beat-up sedan, I wonder if the thing will actually hold up over so long a distance. It won’t be long until my poor wheels are tested.

The gameplay consists of two parts: Braving a stretch of plotted-out highway and recovering in an automobile oasis before setting out again. While on the road, a variety of events await. Most of them will test my car, body, and wallet.

One of the first hurdles I have to navigate is a slow-moving truck. The difficulties aren’t played out in real-time action, rather they are represented by various icons on your dash. Little green figures indicate an impending threat to your stamina. Blue dots are a challenge to your vehicle’s stability. And there are icons for things like money and gas as well.

In a turn-based battle for good vibes, I have to use skills that correspond to the correct threat, neutralizing it. If I’ve used up all my skills or just haven’t unlocked the proper one to combat a particular danger, I take a hit. If the damaging threat was a gas icon, my actual gas gauge ticks down. Now, I have that much less in my tank to take me to the next stop on my map. If I completely run out of gas — or my car’s durability drops to zero, or my body’s energy depletes, etc. — I face the realistic consequences.

Several times throughout my four-hour first run, I found myself stranded on the highway. The game offers tenuous lifelines to get back on track. If I have money or energy left, I may be able to sacrifice them to get back to my last checkpoint. However, my most harrowing brush with defeat made me resort to calling my parents for help — something which, for me, had only about a forty percent chance of working out.

The road also offers introspection and friendships. As I zoom along, I get to thinking about life’s larger problems, like whether I could down an entire bottle of liquor and still be good to drive. Or whether nature holds inspiration or dread. In the first case, my confidence resulted in a bottle appearing in my trunk (I sold it for some quick cash at the first convenience store I came across). My favorable view of the forest, however, changed my stats, giving me a buff when cruising through wooded areas.

Sometimes, I was hailed by someone in need on the side of the road. The characters had a wide range of backgrounds, goals, and skill sets. The first hitchhiker I picked up was a punk rocker with a dog hoping to make it to a major town for a show. This gave me a new side quest which enriched my experience. His back-and-forth dialogue about the nature of humanity filled the hours as the scenery flew by. He and his canine companion also helpfully lent me their skills during road events, noticeably changing up my combat strategy.

All of these combined meant that — even though I was essentially doing the same thing — no stretch of road ever felt the same. Unique rewards, thoughts, and challenges accompanied each. The urge to see what waited just around the next bend makes the game extremely hard to put down.

Then there’s phase two: The stops. Successfully arriving at my next destination meant gaining experience for what I’d overcome, a chance to stretch my legs, and resupply. My experience points allow me to unlock increasingly useful combinations of skills from my skill tree. It also threw some tricky planning at me, as I often didn’t have enough money to completely refuel, fix my battered car, soothe my aching body, and grab snacks or helpful items for my next adventure.

Often in Keep Driving, I would pour what resources I had into fueling my next leg of the trip before taking off again, hoping for good luck on the road. Keeping everything running smoothly could be a stressful pursuit, but the unpredictable events, hazardous challenges, and stimulating connections kept my hands firmly on the steering wheel.