“Glory to Arstotzka! …I guess?”
So, I finally cracked open a little indie game I bought ages ago: Papers, Please. I had no idea what to expect going in. All I remembered was it had a gritty, retro vibe and something to do with passports. Turns out, it’s part border control simulator, part bureaucratic panic attack, and somehow? It’s a total blast.
Let me walk you through how my first playthrough went—because it was a whole experience. I played through about five in-game days before things completely fell apart in the best way.
If you’re here for Papers, please buckle up for gameplay.
Getting Started: The Calm Before the Citations
Before diving in, I should mention that Papers, Please is one of those indie cult classics that’s been recommended to me more times than I can count. It’s known for its unique blend of moral decision-making and bureaucratic madness, all wrapped up in a Cold War aesthetic. I finally decided it was time to see what all the fuss was about—and now I get it.
Booting it up, I dove straight into Day 1. The setup? I won the labor lottery (yay?) and got posted at the border checkpoint of a fictional Eastern Bloc-esque country called Arstotzka. My job: check passports, deny or approve entry, and keep my family from freezing or starving. Simple, right?
Nope.
For the first few entries, I was cautiously optimistic. Passport? Check. Issuing city? Valid. Does the face look like the photo? Boom—approved.
But then came the subtle chaos.
“I thought this was just paperwork. Turns out, it’s panic with a rubber stamp.”
Confusion, Chaos, and Denied Dreams
On Day 2, new rules dropped: now I had to deal with foreigners. And with foreigners came entry tickets, mismatched names, expired passports, and straight-up fake documents. I learned that clicking the little red button opens inspection mode, which lets me interrogate folks. Fun fact: I used that about 300 times in five minutes.
I denied a guy just for walking up late. I let someone through who immediately caused a terrorist attack. One woman even slid me her documents and told me I could “make her happy anytime.” I stamped her real quick—not for that, but because her documents were in order (don’t come for me).
The gameplay quickly spiraled from chill curiosity into full-on bureaucratic triage. One second, I was approving passports like a seasoned pro, and the next, I was fumbling through mismatched ID numbers, interrogating someone for not having a passport, and accidentally letting in a guy who caused an explosion ten seconds later. I even got tripped up by an absurd rule about entry times—apparently showing up a minute too early is a no-go in Arstotzka.
“I Don’t Understand, Man” – Me, Repeatedly
Somewhere around Day 3, things started falling apart:
- I missed a mismatched name.
- Got hit with a citation.
- Then another.
- Then, a terrorist blew up the checkpoint.
Also, my fake digital son got sick and needed medicine. The rent went up. I had to choose between heat and food. Every mistake cost me money, which meant fewer supplies for the fam.
By the end of that session, I was broke, my fake family was freezing, and I got arrested for debt.
“No replacement inspector will be found easily,” the screen told me.
Rude.
Round Two: Faster, Smarter, Slightly Less Incompetent
Naturally, I started over.
This time, I was faster. Denied people with confidence. Stamped with style. I even interrogated a guy with a suspicious photo and told him to take his old-face-ID and get outta here.
One standout moment? I actually caught someone trying to sneak in with a ticket that had expired yesterday. I slammed that denial stamp like I was protecting national security. Felt like a boss—until I realized I missed a mismatched ID two applicants later.
I still missed a few things (like a guy with an expired passport who sweet-talked me into approval), but at least I didn’t get arrested.
“I might not be perfect, but at least I didn’t cause an international incident… this time.”
I did, however, end the day poor again.
But hey—progress!
What Makes Papers, Please So Addictive?
At first glance, this game shouldn’t be fun. It’s paperwork. It’s rules. It’s trying to read tiny text while the game throws curveballs at you every other second.
But here’s what makes it work:
- Tension: Every stamp matters. One mistake could lead to a fine, a lost day, or even death (yep).
- Immersion: You start feeling like a border agent. You want to do well, but you also want to be kind. And sometimes, that’s not possible.
- Moral Gray Zones: Do you let someone in whose papers are slightly off but says she needs to see her son? Or do you play it by the book?
- Visual & Audio Design: The pixel art and bleak soundtrack pull you into this Cold War-inspired world. Every page flip and stamp press has weight.
- The visuals are minimalist but effective—muted tones and sharp lines that reflect the bleakness of the setting.
- The audio is subtle but immersive: that mechanical thunk of the stamp, the beep of a citation, or the sudden silence before a terrorist attack.
This combination of gameplay and storytelling makes it one of the most unique indie games I’ve played in a while. It’s as if you mashed up the stress of managing an airport in “Flight Control” with the moral dilemma vibes of “This War of Mine”—but with stamps and a Soviet accent.
“I need money, man.” – Also Me
Probably the realest quote of the night. I started taking the job too seriously:
- Clicking faster
- Scanning IDs with Terminator-level precision
- Grumbling at slow entrants
All while juggling fake rent, fake food, and a very needy fake child.
This section of the gameplay reminded me why Papers, Please is so memorable—it mimics real stress in an absurd, low-res way.
Final Thoughts (Until Part 2)
This was just Part 1 of the playthrough, and I’m already weirdly invested. Who knew that checking papers could be so chaotic and weirdly emotional?
If you haven’t tried Papers, Please, give it a shot. It’s retro, ridiculous, and surprisingly deep. Plus, where else can you shout “INVALID NAME YOU SON OF A GUN” and actually mean it?
Part 2 is coming soon—where I hopefully avoid citations, terrorist attacks, and accidentally approving sketchy people in trench coats. I’m especially curious to see what happens when I start getting bribe offers or face those moral decision moments everyone talks about. It should be spicy.
If you enjoyed this post, drop a comment, share it, or just scream “GLORY TO ARSTOTZKA!” into the void.
Catch you in Part 2!