Permalife games are difficult in an entirely different way than games requiring skill or strategy, requiring players to enact the motions of continuing existence, even in the face of survival under (or complicity with) the evils of that existence. “Perhaps the walking sim’s greatest power is how it makes players recognize and consider such decisions and the way they influence gaming outcomes and environments. A number of traditional big-budget titles don’t demand this kind of moral engagement, which makes sense—asking a player to stop and consider the horrible things they’re doing is antithetical to moving forward” (Clark 2017). Slowness is forefronted in a game of permalife: adrenaline is neither the goal nor the appeal.

Maze-based stories take away the moving platform and turn the passively observant visitor into a protagonist who must find his or her own way through the fun house.

The navigation of the labyrinth is like pacing the floor; a physical manifestation of the effort to come to terms with the trauma, it represents the mind’s repeated efforts to keep returning to a shocking event in an effort to absorb it and, finally, get past it.