Diving into Delight: The Enchantment of Naiad Swimming

The aquatic activities in the recent indie title Naiad are absolutely fantastic, which is fortunate since you engage in a lot of it. You take on the role of a water spirit who glides about completing minor nature-related tasks on the fringes of human society, delving into the interaction between the environment and its inhabitants. While it may not be as relaxing as its premise implies, the graphics and swimming largely compensate for that. 

I truly cannot emphasize enough the excellence of the swimming mechanics. Developed by a solitary creator, the primary objective of Naiad is to steer your character through rivers, lakes, streams, pipes, and various other beautifully depicted bodies of water as you progress through levels. You can dive and dash short distances, or sing to entice schools of fish to accompany you on your expedition. Soaking in sunlit pools enables your character to “mature,” becoming larger and acquiring new skills to aid her journey. The movement feels exactly as buoyant and delightfully imprecise as one would expect from a water-dwelling creature, and discovering your own route along a river that meanders through the landscape feels truly rewarding. The game presents the world from an overhead view, with each area brimming with stunning flora, rocks, and light. Visually, it’s a delightful game, as evident from its trailer: 

In terms of narrative, there’s a quaint cloud guiding you, along with a swirling dark mass that poses a threat. Additionally, there is an abundance of humans, who engage in various detrimental human activities: felling trees, polluting, crashing their vehicles, and arguing. At times you thwart the humans by scaring them away or interfering with their actions; other times, you assist them in constructing bridges or locating their boat oars. Naiad primarily aims to convey a very simplistic, heavy-handed story of “humans are bad,” so the somewhat ambiguous relationship between your naiad and the humans can feel confusing at times.

I found much greater enjoyment in tasks that completely disregarded humans. Most levels feature ducklings that you can reunite with their mother, and I spent far too long guiding distractible ducks around. There are also some frogs you can lead to lily pads, but I would advise steering clear of this unless you wish to be driven to madness; the frogs tend to go anywhere but where you obviously want them to, and while I admired their rebellious spirit, it wasn’t always the entertainingly annoying kind.

Amidst all this, there’s some puzzle-solving, which is where Naiad starts to veer a bit off course. The game begins with basic navigation puzzles, simple enough to match its relaxing vibe, but they quickly turn inconsistent and somewhat illogical. Why does swiftly passing through these flowers—sometimes in order, sometimes in reverse—sometimes shatter rocks? Why does damaging this human’s vehicle open a gate, while other gates require persuading humans to unlock them? It’s not always apparent why a specific action leads to a certain result, nor where to discover the solutions to puzzles, which led to me swimming around the edges of levels in search of hidden paths or singing at various objects or creatures to see if anything would occur. This could become particularly irritating in levels that consisted of large bodies of water rather than narrow streams, where the overhead perspective made it challenging to determine where I ought to go or whether I had already visited an area. A game where you simply transition from the top of the screen to the bottom may seem overly simplistic, yet it feels so enjoyable that other tasks often felt awkward in comparison.

However, what frustrated me the most about Naiad was how long it spent indicating that its conclusion was imminent, yet it did not conclude. The ominous dark swirl initially instills doubt in you, contrasting with the cloud’s gentle encouragement, and as the game progresses, it continually warns you that the end is approaching. However, the game would persist, and the gameplay remained largely unchanged until I sensed a disconnect between what the narrative was conveying and what was actually unfolding. I began to feel restless for the game to finish—not always because I wasn’t enjoying it, but because it perpetually built up an end that kept eluding me. The final act felt so prolonged that it bordered on comical; I frequently jumped into Aftermath’s Slack to vent my frustrations, but I thought I was nearing the conclusion, so I didn’t want to simply log off.

Some of this serves the broader narrative Naiad aims to convey about the life cycle; when the credits revealed it was created in memory of the developer’s grandparents, I felt like a monster for shouting “When will you be done?!” at it so often. When I engage with a game for work, I always try to remain conscious that my situation differs from that of the average player; something may seem too lengthy to me because I’ve been playing a game longer than usual, or because I’m under a deadline. In the case of Naiad, where there was no deadline or obligation, my play session extended because the game kept indicating I was close to completion and I desired to see what would transpire. It’s not a lengthy game, but it feels like it could have been significantly shorter.

Despite how negative this may sound, the aesthetic and ambiance of Naiad are so appealing that they largely overshadow my other grievances. It is a simply stunning game that feels wonderful to maneuver through, and the first segment is beautifully serene and tranquil. If you take more breaks than I did, its pacing issues may not annoy you as much. It could be best experienced as a game to play a few levels or a chapter in one sitting, allowing time to indulge in all the charming elements and swimming alongside the fish. (Not the frogs, though. Forget the frogs.)