patk

Kentucky Route Zero is a creative and thoughtful interactive story about debt, grief, and the relentless march of capitalism, but also creation, repair, and community. There are enough dialogue choices that I felt like I was actually engaging with the characters, who all have their own thing going on, and you're even given some choices about who you can hang out with or where you go next. Some choices will give you a deeper engagement with the story and some just add further texture to this world.

Because it's a story more than a game, you can explore the environment and talk to the people you meet and accomplish tasks you're assigned, but it generally plays out the same regardless of your choices. There aren't any puzzles to solve except for the mystery of wtf is going on, and you'll do most of that on your own time.

The stylized art contributes to the mystery because you'll want to know more, but can't. You view this world from a set distance and because you can't zoom in to inspect the details, there's a kind of remove to it, like you're in a movie and just have to go where it takes you. It's best experienced in a dark room because it's literally too dark to see if there's any light around you.

The story is messy, with the past sliding through the present, and many questions are left unanswered as you attempt to deliver some antiques to an address you can't find. You start out with Conway, a big rectangle of a man, and his old dog, who you can name Blue or Homer—I went with Homer—and along the way you meet people who join you and bring their talents and troubles with them.

The dialogue between the characters slowly reveals their histories and concerns, and at times you can even talk to the dog as a way to talk yourself through what you're thinking. The dog doesn't talk back, but all the other characters have distinct personalities, and I felt like I was building real conversations—and relationships—between them through my choices.

However, I had a real problem with something that happened about halfway through the game that made me feel used, and it colored the rest of the play for me. I could have just stopped there, at the end, and parted with it unhappy, but I couldn't shake the feeling I was missing something and so the next night I started it up again and gave it a second chance, with Blue.

I still have a big issue with that aspect of the game (it involves alcohol, an alcoholic, and a choice that isn't a choice), but my second playthrough picked up a lot of things I didn't see the first time, and I'm glad I gave it a second try. It's definitely a unique story, filled with wondrous things.

Recommended, probably, if you like worldbuilding, games with low stakes—you can't really make mistakes here, though I somehow managed—interesting characters, found family, and a world that's punched through with mysteries: abandoned mines, hidden caves, a moldy computer, an underground river, and of course the secret highway—Kentucky Route Zero.

I've got content notes down below, feel free to ask me for more details. I played this on my Android tablet through my Netflix subscription.

Now for my chronological thoughts as I was playing. Vague spoilers for the game throughout.

( Homer )

( Blue )

Contains: (metaphorical) amputation (maybe); alcohol and alcoholism; debt, foreclosure; dementia and the impending loss of an old friend; repeated references to the death of a child; dead horses, on screen; an old dog who has seen better days but keeps on seeing them; some sounds (mainly discordant electronic ones) made me very anxious, but there's nothing abrupt, loud, or jump-scary.

Accessibility: The game has white text on a black background, which you can't change, but you can change the size of the text and remove some glitch effects. You also can control FPS on the video and turn on captions for the audio.

Published in 2010, updated with a new preface in 2020, and still very much worth reading in 2025. As Alexander says in the new preface:

In many respects, the core thesis of this book is more relevant today than it was ten years ago. It is now easier to see the patterns, the cycles, the predictable rhetoric, and the ways in which systems of racial and social control adapt, morph, rebound, and are reborn.

Alexander argues that the criminal justice system, specifically through the War on Drugs, perpetuates a racial hierarchy that's replaced Jim Crow as the dominant system of control over people—especially men—of color, just as Jim Crow once emerged to perform many of the same functions as slavery.

She briefly reviews the history of racialized social control in the United states, describes the structure of mass incarceration with a focus on the War on Drugs, looks at the role of race in the U.S. criminal justice system, considers how the caste system operates once people are released from prison, explores the many parallels between mass incarceration and Jim Crow, and reflects on what acknowledging the presence of the New Jim Crow means for the future of civil rights advocacy.

It's a moving, well-developed argument written in plain language, and if you're up for it here in the midst of the ever increasing horrors, I highly recommend it. Be sure to get the 10th Anniversary Edition.