What Remains of Edith Finch: Why This "Walking Sim" Still Haunts Us in 2026

What Remains of Edith Finch: Why This "Walking Sim" Still Haunts Us in 2026

It has been nearly nine years since Giant Sparrow released their magnum opus, and honestly, the gaming landscape hasn't seen anything quite like it since. Most people remember What Remains of Edith Finch as "that game with the fish cannery," or maybe the one where you play as a shark falling through the trees. But if you sit down with it today, it feels less like a game and more like a beautifully curated museum of grief.

The story follows 17-year-old Edith as she returns to her sprawling, architecturally impossible family home on Orcas Island. You've got this massive, teetering house that looks like a stack of favelas dropped into a Washington forest. It’s cluttered. It’s cramped. Every room of a deceased family member has been sealed off like a tomb, preserved by the eccentric matriarch Edie. Edith is the last one left, and she's carrying a journal—and a child.

What Remains of Edith Finch and the Art of the Unreliable Narrative

A lot of players get caught up in the "curse" of the Finch family. Is it real? Is there some eldritch horror lurking in the Pacific Northwest?

Probably not.

If you look at the evidence, the "curse" is mostly a combination of terrible luck and a multi-generational obsession with romanticizing tragedy. Take Molly, the first story you encounter. She’s a young girl sent to bed without dinner who dies after eating holly berries and toothpaste. In her mind—and in the playable sequence—she becomes a cat, an owl, and a sea monster. It’s whimsical. It’s terrifying. But the reality? She likely died of hallucinations and poisoning.

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The game forces you to participate in these delusions. You aren't just watching; you are the one swinging the swing set as Calvin until he flies over the cliff. You are the one operating the guillotine in Lewis's daydream. This is where the game earns its status as a masterpiece. It makes you complicit in the family's descent into fantasy.

The Lewis Finch Sequence: A Masterclass in Narrative Design

I need to talk about Lewis. If there is one reason What Remains of Edith Finch still gets brought up in game design schools, it’s the fish cannery.

You use your right hand to move fish into a blade. Chop. Swipe. Chop. Swipe. It’s mind-numbing.
At the same time, your left hand controls a tiny character in a burgeoning top-down RPG in Lewis’s mind. As the daydream gets more vivid, the RPG world grows until it literally swallows the screen. You're so focused on the colorful world of the "Prince of the City" that the rhythmic chopping of fish becomes muscle memory.

It’s the most accurate depiction of "checking out" mentally that I’ve ever seen in a medium.

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Ian Dallas, the creative director, originally envisioned the game as a scuba diving simulator. He wanted to capture that feeling of seeing the ocean floor drop away into total darkness—the "sublime," where beauty and horror meet. You can still feel that DNA in the final product. Every story feels like a slow descent into a dark, beautiful deep end.


Why the Finch House Still Matters

The house isn't just a setting. It's the antagonist.

By sealing the rooms, Edie Finch didn't preserve her family; she trapped them. Every new generation had to build a new room on top of the old ones because the dead occupied all the "real" space. It’s a literal manifestation of how past trauma can crowd out the living.

Dawn, Edith's mother, tried to fight this by bolting the doors shut. She wanted to move on. She wanted to forget. But you can't just bolt a door on a history like that. Edith’s return is an attempt to find a middle ground—to acknowledge the stories without being consumed by them.

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Facts Most People Forget

  • Milton Finch didn't just disappear; he’s a direct link to Giant Sparrow’s first game, The Unfinished Swan. He’s the King.
  • The game won Best Game at the 2018 BAFTA Games Awards, beating out massive triple-A titles.
  • The floating text that appears as Edith speaks isn't just a UI choice—it’s actually a way to guide the player's eyes toward points of interest without using immersion-breaking arrows.

Breaking Down the Ending (Spoilers)

At the very end, we realize we haven't been playing as Edith the whole time. We’re playing as her son, Christopher. Edith died in childbirth, just like her mother feared.

It’s a heavy ending. Some find it needlessly cruel. But honestly, it’s the only way the story could conclude. By writing everything down in the journal, Edith finally "broke" the curse of secrecy. She gave her son the truth, even if it was a messy, tragic truth.

The final image isn't of a haunted house or a monster. It’s a hand placing flowers on a grave in the sunlight. It suggests that for the first time in a century, a Finch might actually get to live a life that isn't dictated by the ghosts in the walls.

Practical Next Steps for Players

If you’ve never played it, or if you haven't touched it since 2017, here is how to get the most out of a replay:

  • Look at the books: The house is filled with real-world literature. The titles often hint at the themes of the specific room you're in.
  • Don't rush the "walking": The environmental storytelling is where the real "game" is. Check the calendars, the unopened mail, and the food left on the tables.
  • Play with headphones: The sound design, from the creaking wood to the shifting musical themes for each character, is half the experience.

What Remains of Edith Finch isn't about death. It’s about the stories we tell to make sense of it. And in a world that feels increasingly chaotic, those stories matter more than ever.

Check your library for the 4K update if you're on modern consoles—the textures on the old family photos are worth the second look.