I’ve faced some hard choices in video games. Some of my decisions in Life is Strange still haunt me. Ghost of Tsushima’s final sequence prompted me to put my controller down for a good 10 minutes while I thought through my options. I am responsible for so many Krogan deaths in Mass Effect that I wish I could undo. None of those moments hold a candle for what now might be the hardest choice I’ve had to make in a video game — and it has to do with a giant staircase.
Baby Steps, the latest game from Ape Out creators Gabe Cuzzillo, Bennett Foddy, and Maxi Boch, isn’t exactly a choice-driven game. At least not in any traditional sense. You simply have to walk around a sprawling open world as Nate, a onesie-wearing manchild who can barely stand on his wobbly legs. It looks like one big ragebait joke, but Baby Steps’ power lies in its deceptively impactful story that will sneak up on you when you’re least expecting it. There’s no moment that exemplifies that strength like one major choice that I can’t stop thinking about.
[Ed. note: Minor spoilers for Baby Steps follow.]
Some scene setting is required here. Baby Steps begins as Nate is magically whisked away from his parents’ basement and into a fantasy world. He immediately finds that walking through it is a challenge, as years spent as a couch potato have atrophied his limbs. The physical comedy of it all comes from players controlling Nate one step at a time, trying to keep his ragdoll body standing.
Nate needs help, but he has trouble voicing that to anyone. Throughout his hero’s journey, he comes in contact with a cast of eccentric characters in the world who all offer to give him a hand. A cool, confident hiker tries to give Nate a map, but he awkwardly refuses in the game’s best laugh-out-loud moment. When he falls into an inescapable pit and is offered a ladder to climb out, he tries to play it off like he doesn’t need the help and actually wants to be trapped in the pit. Throughout the story, you experience no shortage of frustrating vignettes where Nate makes life harder for himself because he’s too insecure to accept any assistance.
That comes to a head in Baby Steps’ one true moment of choice. As Nate nears the end of his journey, he finds that he must climb to the top of a snowy mountain. The de facto groundskeeper of the world (who Nate has desperately tried to duck up to this point) appears to let him know that there are two ways up. If he’s up for a challenge, he can take an extremely long and dangerous hiking trail dubbed The Manbreaker. It is the most daunting obstacle Baby Steps has to offer; taking it seems inadvisable to any human.
But there’s a second option: He can just walk up a gigantic spiral staircase instead and get to the top in a few minutes. The only caveat? He’ll have to call the groundskeeper “Lord” from now on if he takes the easy route.
I am very serious when I say that this is an agonizing choice in context. It’s all of Nate’s insecurities about himself coming to a head in one absurd moment. Part of Nate’s journey is centered around the fact that he’s self-conscious of his body and his masculinity. Every time he sees that dashing hiker, it’s a hard reminder of everything he’s not. Taking on The Manbreaker could be a moment where he can prove that he’s as capable as his one-sided rival, but that road is bound to be paved with more embarrassing pratfalls. Is it worth struggling just to prove a point?
The stairs, on the other hand, give Nate another big moment to either accept or reject help. The player has no choice in whether or not they turn away a map, but they can decide to give Nate a break and take the stairs. It should be an easy choice, but Baby Steps is devilishly clever about making you feel paranoid anytime you find a gift horse. The world is filled with design traps that turn a safe route into a setback on a dime. Are the stairs yet another trap? Will Nate get all the way to the top just to be let down by some last-second gag? And even worse, is he willing to be emasculated once again by being forced to call some weirdo Lord?
The beauty of that moment is that there’s no right or wrong answer. Either one leads to a genuine moment of character development and catharsis for Nate. If you choose to tackle The Manbreaker, it’s an existential win. Nate finally gets a chance to prove that he’s as capable as anyone else, willingly taking on a tough path rather than struggling through one that he has no choice but to follow. It’s hard, and maybe ill-advised, but it’s the bit of empowerment that he needs. (You can read Aftermath’s account of conquering The Manbreaker for proof.)
But there’s no shame in the stairs either. To choose that path is to finally allow Nate to accept help. And when he does, he finds that there’s no real catch waiting for him. The stairs aren’t a prank. They go on for a long time, but they’re easy to walk up and he doesn’t slide all the way down them if he falls. It’s a simple climb after hours of struggle. Halfway up, he even has a chat with the hiker who has, of course, chosen to take The Manbreaker. He tries to play it cool, but you can tell that he’s worn out, quietly regretting the unnecessary challenge. By the time Nate gets to the top and has to pay his debt, hailing his new Lord, the deal hardly seems so nasty. Who has time to be embarrassed by this freak?
In my playthrough, I opted for the stairs. Part of me just wanted to call the game’s bluff, and another part of me just wanted to experience a callback to Final Fantasy VII Remake’s laughably long stair climb. I instinctively felt a little ashamed about the decision at first, especially as I began to see other players go right for The Manbreaker, but I’ve only grown more confident in my choice after seeing Nate’s story to the end; I can’t really picture his story without it. I see it as the moment where Nate sheds all of his insecurities at once, allowing himself a bit of grace and making life a little more manageable for himself in the process.
And maybe I’ll still go back one day and take on The Manbreaker. I have full confidence that Nate can handle it, but only when he’s ready. The man deserves a pee break.
