The sharp cut of a slice of pizza in 1000XResistance

One of the big indie hits of 2024 holds no punches when it comes to discussing culture and generational distancing from traditions in immigrant families.

In the effort to keep their traditional practices, characters in 1000XResist try to secure a place to belong. An arduous work inevitably challenged by new generations for whom those memories and beliefs are distant —- stories told during nostalgic dinners. What a fascinating topic Sunset Visitor studio decided to tackle in their first game.

There are a few hours ahead of me left before I can roll the credits on this one – juggling it alongside Trails Through Daybreak and short sessions of Zenless Zone Zero has been my sin –, but this game’s artistic weight and genuine desire to say some things struck me in the first hours of playing. The Orchard’s futuristic space and the communions’ disorienting oniric experiences hold no shortage of interesting topics to discuss. One among them is tradition.

In one of Iris’s memories, she is about to celebrate her birthday. An event which, for a teenager, involves pleasing their friends. Inviting a bunch of teenagers over prompts the usual concerned-toned list of instructions from her mother. A woman whose survival instinct makes worrying about annoying neighbors and causing problems to their family a bigger concern than the momentary happiness of her daughter. Unlike her mother, Iris’s father, in a different scene, doesn’t list rules to be obeyed. At least, not explicitly.

Father has prepared the traditional birthday special noodle recipe. It’s made of bamboo shoots. The noodle is meant to give her vigor for the year to come. Symbolically. To bestow the energy from the plant that represents Iris’s cultural heritage to grow up strong and healthy; to grow upward. And to make the occasion even more special, he has prepared enough for Iris to share with her friends.

This is a tradition and traditions are meant to be followed. They situate one within a rational and comprehensible logic; they anchor the subject into a space of belonging. In Iris’s family case, it’s about keeping their Asian identity secured while living in Canada. After all, though extremely flexible, bamboo doesn't usually change. Tradition underlies the notion one has about themselves. She is Iris and Iris always eats bamboo shoot noodles on her birthdays. If she doesn’t, who then she really is?

Negotiations are constantly undertaken within families to maintain cohesiveness. Food is a tool for that. For the father, “family who eats together, stays together”. But Iris turns down her father’s offer, asserting that they – her friends, the cool kids – don’t like this kind of food; she acts to circumscribe her personal space. A girl who decides what she has the final word when it comes to celebrating her birthday and she decides that Iris is a girl who eats pizza with her friends. She is like them. Iris is not a weird girl who spends her birthday eating old Ansian food prepared by her parents. No, sir. But we see that Iris doesn’t want to let her father down, so she promises to eat the noodles later.

The father’s regard for tradition is a different manifestation of, in my opinion, the survival instinct so blatant in Iris’s mother's behavior. They have flown from Hong Kong to Canada; this is not their home. Feeling out of place, one finds strength in unity, in the familiar. In my personal experience, Japanese families in Brazil focus on staying within their community. Japanese kids become friends with other Japanese kids. They frequent the Japanese club. They attend the Japanese fair. They own and visit Japanese restaurants. Being Japanese involves every aspect of your life with the constant performance of such identity. Otherwise, such traces might be erased from their lives.

In spite of the goodwill behind the father’s actions, the imposition of a tradition is a violent act. We can easily overlook it, but the desire to keep the family together comes with the vicious aftermath of murdering individuality. You are not you. You are us. You are part of us. But Iris resists this violence, cutting the threads of tradition with slices of cold pizza.

Creating boundaries is an important step in the development of Iris as a person. A cut. A sometimes cruel cut, which explained the melancholic air in the scene. The realization of the father that she, Iris, is little by little distancing herself from them. Disappointment and fear of disappointing. The cold awkwardness of becoming aware of reality. The individualization of a subject is, in itself, a violent act too. Violence toward the other and toward the self. Lacerating the ties that up until now held you in place and connected to others.

To some extent, I can’t help but understand Iris. Again, her parents’ customs, the culture in which they have grown up is not the same as hers. The places in Hong Kong she only saw in her imagination. The smell of smoke and the screams of police officers she never felt or heard. They don’t belong to her. It becomes impossible to make sense of memories passed on by parents of places and customs so different from your day-to-day life. Whether we like it or not, eventually these ties are tested. Five tons pushing a delicate line of beliefs to its limit. And more often than not, it is severed.

Iris’s birthday is the exact moment when the most notorious cut has been made. Again, what a beautifully sad moment. It seems like the usual grumpiness of a teenager when dealing with their parents. But it works as the stage where the friction experienced by members of a family marked by the diaspora is represented. The sour taste left in our mouths when living in between cultures.