The World of Deltarune: Chapter 1 And 2 Reflections.
Why Choices Don’t Matter in Deltarune (And Why That Matters)
From the very first moment, Deltarune tells you something Undertale never did: your choices don’t matter. You build a character only for it to be discarded. Dialogue options vanish before you can click them. The game sets the tone immediately—it’s not about you. I finally got around to starting Deltarune after putting it off for way too long—like a lot of things in my life—and that realization hit me hard.
What I’ve noticed is this subtle, almost philosophical distinction: there’s a difference between having your CHOICES not matter and having THEM not matter. And that difference seems to define why Deltarune feels so different from Undertale.
Undertale was about you; Deltarune is about them. In Undertale, your choices don’t just matter mechanically—they matter existentially. Even though the story has a linear backbone, it builds this illusion that every action you take is your action in the world. Sparing someone, killing someone, befriending someone—these all accumulate into a reflection of who you are. The combat is simple and consistent, so you always know what you’re dealing with. The rules don’t change; you understand the game. The weight lands on you, not the script.
Deltarune is different. Here, the game doesn’t really care about you. It cares about them—the characters. Everything feels more scripted: fights are less about testing your values and more like little theatrical setpieces that show off character quirks, fears, and relationships. The gimmicky combat mirrors that: each enemy or boss is a storytelling beat rather than a moral challenge. Even small interactive moments, like a pressure plate in Chapter 2, aren’t really about cleverness or solving a puzzle. They’re about experimenting a little and watching the characters respond, giving you insight into their personalities rather than testing your skill.
A rare moment where this works well is the “Annoying Mouse Room” moment with Noelle. By the second sequence, the game doesn’t explicitly tell you what to do next. Noelle happens to be standing in the mice’s path because the sequence isn’t working, and when you scare her, she jumps to the other side—solving it. The humor and satisfaction come from noticing how her established fear interacts with the moment in an emergent way, rather than a scripted beat. It rewards observation and understanding of character, rather than just following instructions.
So yeah—that difference between “your CHOICES” and “THEM” is exactly it. In Undertale, you mattered, even when the game mocked or challenged your choices, because the world responded to how you interacted with it. In Deltarune, you’re mostly irrelevant—it’s about Kris, Susie, Ralsei, Noelle. Your choices don’t matter because this is their story, not yours. And depending on what you want from the game, that can feel profound or just…alienating.
I think part of the issue is so far the game hasn’t really given a satisfying way to make “your choices don’t matter” feel rewarding. Undertale gave friction—you felt the weight of not killing, or the weird guilt of experimenting with violence. Deltarune mostly just takes the wheel and says, “sit back and watch.” If you’re not the kind of player who enjoys being a passive observer, it can feel hollow.
And I don’t mind being a passenger. What I don’t like is being a passenger on a ride that goes nowhere. In Undertale, you were the driver; every choice mapped to you. In Deltarune, you’re in the passenger seat, but instead of feeling like you’re watching the driver grow, it often feels like you’re watching someone follow GPS instructions. There are glimpses of the magic—like the mouse moment—where you see character quirks expressed through mechanics and humor. It’s satisfying to see the characters respond in ways that feel authentic, not predetermined.
This is the role I want in my own work. In Lorelei, I don’t want the player to be Ula. I want them to observe her transformation—the cracks, the colors, the moments of goodbye. Being the observer can be powerful if it’s handled with respect; it rewards the player for noticing, interpreting, and witnessing. That’s what I wish Deltarune leaned into more. Instead of taking control away, it could make your role about observation. You don’t shape the story, but you witness it.
Honestly, that’s what sticks with me the most: Deltarune often confuses disempowerment with observation. There’s a real difference between saying the player has no control and actually giving them the role of witness.
There’s one place where Deltarune actually creates friction between the player and the characters: the Snowgrave/Weird Route. It’s the only time the game turns “your choices don’t matter” into something dramatic. Normally, the story unfolds the same way regardless of what you try to do, and at the end of each chapter Kris tears control away from you. They rip out the soul, shove it in a box, and walk off to act on their own—free from your constant watching and meddling. Then, reluctantly, they shove it back in and return you the controller.
And that’s the key: the ritual isn’t just the game yanking the reins—it’s Kris setting a boundary. When they tear out "their" soul, it’s because they have something they’re going to do, something they won’t let you interfere with. They’re decisive, not conflicted, and for a moment you’re not their guide but their witness.
The Snowgrave Route takes that idea and twists it into real tension. Almost every step actively resists you: the enemies, the interactions, even Noelle herself. You choose to freeze enemies, you push her further and further, even as she resists. For once, you’re not just a passenger—you’re pressing on the gas, and the game is slamming the brakes. Outcomes are still scripted, but now your actions meet subtle resistance. That struggle—the game fighting your decisions—makes being a passenger feel tense, even horrific. Your lack of agency isn’t abstract; it’s tangible, mechanical, and narratively meaningful.
That kind of friction is almost entirely absent in the rest of the game. If the point is “Kris doesn’t like to be controlled,” why reserve that drama for a hidden branch? Imagine the normal route had moments where Kris acted independently or subverted your intent, where the tension between your will and the story unfolded naturally.
Imagine you go to spare a random enemy early in Chapter 1. You pick Spare in the menu—Kris raises their hand—and then just…attacks instead. Susie looks surprised. Ralsei tries to smooth things over. The game still lets you finish the battle peacefully, but you felt Kris reject your intent for a second. That says: even in mercy, Kris isn’t fully with you.
The Snowgrave Route succeeds because it makes the player’s lack of agency into a story conflict; it turns ‘your choices don’t matter’ into a source of real tension. But outside of that, Deltarune usually treats ‘your choices don’t matter’ as a passive limitation rather than an active tension. There’s a difference between being told you don’t matter and being forced to feel it.
Of course, I don’t doubt that many of these concerns may fade once the remaining chapters are out. I’ve only played the first two, and with seven total planned, there’s still a long road ahead. What’s there already has made me think so much, though. That’s why I wanted to get these thoughts out—not to tear the game down, but because its concept has resonated enough with me to trigger all this reflection.
