Please Be Happy review

Please Be Happy reminds us that learning about ourselves often involves the risk of revealing your insecurities.

Fear has become the prevailing implement of politicians, marketers, and the media. The result of this persistent trepidation seems to be a growing sense of distrust and the erosion of human compassion. But periodically, acts of altruism threaten to topple this whole contrived ideology.

The opening scene of Studio Élan’s Please Be Happy opens with a moment of compassion between animal and human after initial insecurities are surmounted.  A solitary fox apprehensively approaches a traveler but quickly scampers off knowing the harm people are capable of committing. But the stranger’s calm temperament and open-handed offer of food gradually wear down the animal’s sense of suspicion. A gentle bond is nurtured and sustained until the stranger offers the animal a final farewell. The impact this interaction has on the fox is indelible.

The first of Please Be Happy’s five chapters finds the fox on her way to an alternative Wellington. Wandering for a nondescript number of years, she’s become a petty thief, using the ability to shift between a fox and a somewhat humanoid form to survive. As a visual novel with a 220,000-word length, Please Be Happy enthusiastically delves into the particulars of the fox’s existence.

Detailing subtle differences such as the difference in perception between foxes and humans, the novel explores the human condition as an informed outsider. This isn’t a visual novel built to deliver a procession of punchlines or lighthearted diversion, but one intended to celebrate the capacity for compassion. But that’s not to say Please Be Happy is dry or overly cerebral. Instead, Studio Élan keeps things playful by having Miho (as she calls herself in the New Zealand capital) explain the comforts of a dirt-lined den, the justifications for larceny, and the deep-rooted avoidance of people. At least some of the latter is rooted in the peculiar way that most people can’t seem to remember Miho.

The theme of compassion flourishes across the novel’s other characters. Aspen is a barista at a neighborhood café and an aspiring author. Much like Please Be Happy’s own writing, she is an observer who’s fascinated by human interaction and yearns to capture those nuances in print. Juliet is the game’s other relational partner. She’s a kindly vampire who makes her multi-century accumulation of books available as a library. One night when she finds Miho taking refuge in a shrouded alcove of the building, she benevolently offers the fox shelter.

Once more, an offer of friendship corrodes distrust. The result is a moment that feels less like the typical reveal in a story and more like an organic moment of conversational self-closure, as Miho, Juliet, and Aspen all divulge parts of themselves that are hidden by insecurity. Like many of Please Be Happy’s slice-of-life glimpses, it’s wonderfully tender and thoroughly heartwarming.

Miho’s journey of self-discovery is split between Juliet and Aspen’s routes, who each have two different endings, so you’ll have to make use of Please Be Happy’s save system to see all of the exposition. Beyond character arcs for the two relational partners, there’s also the possibility of getting to know a trio of other characters around Wellington. But similarly, you won’t be able to get to know all three of them in a single playthrough. While Aspen’s hyperactive coworker Lena is freely accessible, you’ll have to choose to befriend either Tommy, a young boy who is fraught by his parent’s divorce, or Mr. Kim, a kindhearted fisherman seeking to land a legendary catch.

If you appreciate poignancy, observing Miho’s development offers one of the more inspiring journeys in recent memory. While many visual novels center around cataclysmic crises or at least vanquishing some form of adversity, Please Be Happy’s victories are far less monumental, but no less impactful. Witnessing the consequences of compassion might make for a subdued storyline but expect it to reverberate with you long after the novel has been completed.

Mercifully, Please Be Happy makes few missteps along the way. Crafted over a three-year span, it’s possible that the pandemic effected the quality of the voice acting. Some lines seem recorded at a noticeably lower bitrate. But fortunately, Sarah Mancuso’s masterful score helps to obscure this minor transgression. From string-driven pieces that underscore emotional moments to buoyant jazzy songs, the soundtrack is every bit as prodigious as Kobuta’s gorgeous CGs. Pleasingly, characters display bits of animation, whether it’s the twitch of Miho’s ear or the mouths that are synchronized to the spoken dialog. Another nice touch is the way the novel distinguishes narration from conversation, by offering mock pages of text and more typical dialog boxes.

Depending on your choices, the explanation of mythological and folklore elements can be abrupt. Please Be Happy works best when the world’s nuances are revealed gradually, rather than when the novel hastily drops a term (“fabled”) as a comprehensive signifier for its paranormal elements.

Another notable blemish is the novel’s spans of silence, where there’s no music or spoken dialog. One additional area for improvement would be the inclusion of Steam Cloud Synchronization. That way, owners of multiple PCs (such as Steam Deck owners) couldn’t continue their journey without disruption.

Building on the achievements of Highway Blossoms and Heart of the Woods, Please Be Happy is another emotionally rich and thoroughly fulfilling effort from Studio Élan. Thoughtful without succumbing to philosophical navel-gazing, the novel will undoubtedly be appreciated by those who savor the minutiae of interaction. The remainder of the power of kindness is especially imperative right now.

Please Be Happy was played on PC with review code provided by the publisher.