by Samuel Cook
Australian indie films have always felt a little sideways compared to the global mainstream. They don’t rush. They don’t explain everything. They sit with awkwardness and let scenes breathe longer than you expect. Over time, that sensibility has started to show up in narrative games, especially smaller PC titles that aren’t interested in spectacle.
These games don’t feel cinematic in the blockbuster sense. They feel filmic in a quieter way. Like you’re moving through something personal rather than consuming a story designed to impress.
Silence Does More Work Than Dialogue
One thing Australian indie cinema has always trusted is silence. Not dramatic silence. Just usual, uncomfortable quiet.
That shows up in narrative games influenced by the same mindset. Characters don’t constantly tell you who they are. The game doesn’t rush to explain the stakes. Sometimes nothing happens for a while, and that’s the point.
Instead of pushing exposition through dialogue trees, these games let players notice things. How a space feels. How long a character hesitates. What isn’t being said. It’s closer to how you read people in real life than how games traditionally deliver information.
For players used to tutorials and clear objectives, this can feel strange at first. But it’s also what makes these games linger after you stop playing.
Risk Feels Familiar Across Different Interactive Spaces
That way of engaging with uncertainty isn’t unique to narrative games. You see it in other interactive environments where people act without guaranteed outcomes.
Take online poker, for example. You’re rarely acting with complete information. You read the table, second-guess your timing, and make a call without knowing how it ends. For Australian players, that uncertainty shows up before the game even starts. There are plenty of Australian sites to choose from, all with slightly different rules and rhythms, so deciding where to play becomes part of the experience, not a step you rush past.
Narrative games shaped by indie film thinking tap into the same mindset. You act, you wait, and only later do you see what that action meant.
Australian Settings Feel Lived-In, Not Decorative
Australian indie films rarely use location as a postcard. Even when the landscape is striking, it usually feels harsh, isolating, or slightly indifferent to the people inside it.
Narrative games drawing from this tradition treat environments the same way. The setting isn’t there to impress you. It’s there to shape your mood: empty roads, quiet towns, long distances between points of interest. You’re often alone, or close to it.
Exploration becomes slower. Not because the game forces it, but because the space encourages it. You move carefully. You listen. You notice the absence of things as much as what’s present.
That sense of place is hard to fake, and it’s something Australian filmmakers have been working with for decades. FilmInk has written before about the need to overcome the cultural cringe and plunge into the quintessential Australian films, many of which treat landscape and isolation as emotional forces rather than visual decoration. Narrative games borrowing from this tradition aren’t copying locations so much as inheriting that same relationship to space.
Choices Don’t Announce Themselves
Another shared trait is how both mediums handle choice. In Australian indie films, characters rarely stand at a crossroads and explain their options. They act, often imperfectly, and deal with the consequences later. Narrative games influenced by this approach do the same.
You make decisions without knowing exactly what they’ll affect. Sometimes you don’t even realise you decided at all. There’s no morality meter. No flashing warning that something irreversible is about to happen.
That uncertainty mirrors real decision-making. You’re not playing to optimise an outcome. You’re responding to a situation with limited information and living with whatever comes next.
Pacing Rewards Patience Instead Of Progress
Another influence that carries over from Australian indie film is pacing. These stories aren’t built around constant escalation. They trust the audience to stay engaged without regular rewards.
Narrative games shaped by this thinking don’t always push players forward with unlocks or achievements. Progress can feel subtle. Sometimes, the only thing that changes is how you understand a character or situation.
This kind of pacing isn’t for everyone, but it creates a different relationship with the player. Instead of chasing completion, you’re encouraged to sit with moments and let them land.
Sound Design Matters More Than Music
Australian indie films often use sound sparingly. Music comes in late, or not at all. Ambient noise does most of the emotional work.
Narrative games influenced by this style follow the same rules. Footsteps, wind, distant traffic, a door closing somewhere off-screen. These sounds tell you more about a space than a score ever could. Silence isn’t empty here. It’s loaded. It gives players room to project their own emotions instead of being told what to feel.
Smaller Stories, Heavier Weight
These games don’t usually aim big. They aim close. The focus is on individuals rather than worlds. On personal consequences rather than epic stakes. Financial pressure, guilt, isolation, and strained relationships. Themes in Australian indie films return again and again.
Because the scope is smaller, the impact feels heavier. When something goes wrong, it’s not abstract. It’s immediate. It belongs to one character, in one place, at one moment. That intimacy translates well into interactive storytelling, where inhabiting a character matters more than controlling them.
Why This Influence Keeps Growing
There’s a practical reason this crossover keeps happening. Both indie films and narrative games work under limitations. Smaller budgets force careful choices. You can’t hide behind scale. Australian indie filmmakers have spent years refining how to do more with less.
Narrative game developers are learning the same lesson. Tone, pacing, and perspective matter more than polish. As more creators move between film, games, and other interactive media, these influences aren’t just crossing over. They’re blending.
