What I've learned from watching other people learn about ENA
I watched a lot of ENA streams. I also played it myself.
Furthermore, I don’t usually play games that drift into “walking simulator” territory, but I do enjoy point-and-click adventure design. ENA fits closer to that second category — exploration, dialogue, surreal logic, environmental storytelling.
After watching multiple playthroughs, I came away with something interesting:
I have critiques for a game I genuinely think is great.
Not about tone. Not about art direction.
About player behavior.
1. The Lonely Door Problem
Players are told they must interact with three doors (and their corresponding genie) before the smoke clears and the chapter ends.
But what many players assume is:
“I’ll go through the Lonely Door first, then come back for the others.”
That assumption is wrong.
The game doesn’t strongly communicate that this is a one-way commitment. So players rush through the Lonely Door and unintentionally skip Coral Glasses and several one-time interactions.
By the time they realize what happened, it’s too late.
This feels like a remnant of the game originally being structured as one cohesive piece before being split into chapters. Structurally, it behaves like you’ll be able to loop back. But you can’t.
That mismatch causes accidental content loss.
2. “Where Do I Go?” — The Attention Drift Issue
ENA does communicate who is inter-actable. The language is there.
And yet, players still get lost.
Because wandering in ENA often leads to events that feel important — like the Purge Event — even if they aren’t part of your immediate objective.
Players who bounce around quickly end up:
Climbing up the taxi driver’s sleeve
They miss content and shorten the experience unintentionally.
This exposes a design tension:
The world invites exploration, but progression isn’t always clearly tiered between “optional curiosity” and “core objective.”
3. The Flesh Building Is Too Confusing
The building containing the taxi driver’s head is the biggest offender.
Dead ends that don’t telegraph themselves as dead ends
A ghost pointing vaguely in the wrong direction
A massive gap leading to what feels like unfinished content
A shortcut that bypasses most of the interior
If you reach the taxi driver’s head via shortcut, then try to explore the cave normally, you end up circling back to something you already completed.
Players think there’s more in that cave than there actually is.
The confusion isn’t difficulty — it’s expectation mismatch.
4. The “God-Level Frogger” Moment
If you triggered the Purge Event, you eventually reach the river crossing.
Not because it’s conceptually hard — but because something about the jump physics or control feedback causes half-jumps and mistimed inputs.
I used a controller and had no issue.
But watching keyboard players attempt the sequence was painful.
Attempt to brute-force jump the river
Ignore the human board (the bridge)
Jump straight into the river assuming they’ll respawn
Up until that moment, pits just reset you.
So the river feels like “just another fall.”
The consequence feels disproportionate because the game hasn’t trained the player to expect that kind of permanence.
5. Theodora and the “Safe Choice” Effect
When players reach Theodora, they almost always choose the “real aspiration” immediately.
They avoid optional dialogue.
By that point in the game, players are afraid of messing up.
So they minimize interaction.
Ironically, the more cautious and attentive someone has been, the less optional content they risk engaging with.
That suggests the game may not clearly communicate which choices are flavor and which advance the plot.
6. Alex the Hoarder and the Waiting Problem
When he has a heart attack, you’re given the option to revive him.
But if you wait long enough, he just dies.
In theory, that’s darkly funny.
Because the wait is absurdly long — several minutes.
Fifteen seconds feels long in a game.
Seven minutes feel broken.
This reminds me of Terra Memoria, where the devs initially made players wait intentionally to create a feeling of mundanity — and later removed it because it just felt bad.
If Alex is going to die regardless, the wait window should be 30–60 seconds max.
Otherwise, no player will naturally discover it.
7. The Friendly Giant Visibility Issue
During Uncanny Streets, players see the giant stuck in the wall and assume he’s interactable.
Later, during Auction Day, he is interactable.
But by then, players don’t look for him.
A neat piece of environmental storytelling ends up largely unseen.
But watching other people play it revealed something fascinating:
Not flaws in tone or creativity —
but friction between player expectation and designer intent.
Most of the “mistakes” players make aren’t because they’re inattentive.
They’re because the game subtly trains them to assume one thing —
and then occasionally breaks that rule.
That friction is interesting.
Watching people learn ENA might be as fascinating as playing it.