You are never once told what to do. There are no directions, no tutorials. You figure it all out in an organic way, using the architectural design of your environment and the framing of the camera to navigate the castle.

And the castle... There has never been a more elegantly designed level in a video game. The fixed camera angles that allow you to pan around and look at your surroundings give it a genuine sense of presence and scale. It feels like a real place that was once lived in due to its interconnected and functional design. The feeling of just being there is, in terms of sheer atmospheric power, unmatched in any game. All of this despite the environment being so austere and existing purely for Ico to lead Yorda through.

I've seen it pointed out before that Yorda is simply the typical video game damsel in distress, as she is saved by the player and literally dragged around and protected for the entirety of the game. This is true, but simply identifying tropes isn't substantive criticism; in this case, it's a shallow observation that misses the point entirely.

Yorda grew up in a cage. The entire purpose of her existence is to be an eventual vessel for her mother. She never expresses agency because she has never known it. But after making her first real human connection with someone, a person who knows freedom and only now has had it taken away, she learns how to be her own person. In the end, when Ico is unable to go on (and control is thus taken from the player), she takes the initiative to save him herself and assert her right to be free. There has never been a more thematically powerful use of a cutscene in any game, before or since.

It's an empowering story about becoming a human being, all told with almost no dialogue and through the language of video games. It is possibly the purest example of using this medium to tell a good story. Ueda really is one of the very few real artists in the industry and this game will stand forever as one of the most important milestones for video games.

Probably the worst cover art of all time in the NA version though.

One of the most serene experiences I’ve ever had in any videogame.

Surreal and upsetting but calming and peaceful; I don’t know if this will sound dumb, but something that I can tie this feeling to is the part of Half-Life 2 where you walk along the bottom of a large bridge over the ocean. That level has always been a sort of cozy dream space for me. That’s one of my favorite sections in any game, and Ico was just that the entire time. Major Boss Baby vibes.

Did not enjoy the combat.

(Played on original hardware on a CRT. Which, man, that was the right choice. Game looked stunning.)

I've noticed that games like Ico - games that commit their entire being to presenting a particular feeling or mood - are harmed even more by the slightest annoyances, since once the immersion is broken there's a good chance it has no more legs to stand on. At its best, Ico was a beautifully-woven fairytale world portraying the struggle and necessity of absolute trust between two complete strangers. At its worst? It couldn't make me feel anything.

There's a lot about this game that feels intentionally awkward in service of that mood - the difficult part is that the things that felt intentional are the bits I like the best! As an example, the combat isn't exactly "fun", and that seems to be a pretty major sticking point for a lot of others who dropped off the game - but my first few combat encounters were absolutely mesmerising. The weightless swings and the tendency of the shades to dodge and outmaneuver rather than overwhelm gave this delicate feel to the combat that perfectly complemented the aesthetic. But it's the little things I picked up on that *didn't* feel intentional - or specifically not in service of anything - that started to get to me. To use the same example, after a while I started noticing that some combat encounters took a wearily long time; as I later realised, shades that successfully 'capture' Yorda disappear into the same portal and seem to take a long time to reappear. You're bound to get knocked about and have her get dragged down at some point, but the feeling it gave off quickly changed - I'm not feeling tension for Yorda, I'm feeling annoyed because I have to wait around for the shade to come back. Parts of the game also felt like they had a *lot* of combat encounters - combine with the intentionally awkward combat and the previously-mentioned issue and I just groaned whenever I heard the cue.

I do want to make it clear that the combat is far from my only issue, and it was a pretty wide spread of minor annoyances that snapped me out of the experience it tried to convey. I just don't want to come off like I'm bashing this game. I have a lot of respect for it, despite my ultimate decision to drop it - I just wanted to express this feeling I've had welling ever since I tried Rain World last year, and Ico was just a much better vessel for doing so.

Gotta be the nicest looking PS2 game running at 512x224. Interlacing? Hell no, me and the boys about that low-res progressive scan.

I don't have much to say about Ico, which I guess is a little surprising because I feel like Ico is also a game that is important enough to be discussed at length. In a lot of ways, it reminds me of Another World with its meticulously keyframed animations and focus on creating a particular tone, though a bit wonky from a pure gameplay perspective. You spend much of Ico jumping between platforms, climbing, and solving puzzles, and on its own none of that stuff feels particularly good to me. However, it's all in service of something more: selling you on the bond between Ico and his partner, Yorda.

The thing that makes Ico work is how effectively it conveys the relationship between its two lead characters without relying upon dialog. It's all communicated through action, a lot of which you're participatory in, and though I find certain aspects of its gameplay to not always be fun to interact with directly, the way it loops back into Ico's emotional core is what makes it all work in the end. Plus, holding hands is pretty nice. Call me "touch starved" or whatever, but I'd like to grab someone by the wrist and yank them around really hard while going "Uh! Uh!"

Ico is a good game, but it's also not one I find myself all too eager to return to. I think once you've absorbed what it's about, you've gotten all you're going to get from it. Or at least that's true of me. Shadow of the Colossus is the more approachable of the two, but that's because you get to fight and kill a bunch of cool monsters. Uh, heh, sorry Ico, but I'd take a cool guy action game over a contemplative hand-holding sim any day! B-)

Ico is a bizarre game to review. It set the standard for Team Ico's methods and staples that still topple over the industry today, with their near-perfect understanding of how to make you interpret everything perfectly with practically no words. The animation is gorgeous, the environments are serene and the story is heartfelt, yet I hesitate to call it a masterpiece of any kind. It does everything right as an action-adventure-puzzle-platformer-you name it, but it's still not really effective at the core goal at hand: making you and Yorda feel a connection. You'll be fighting, she'll be standing there, you'll be solving puzzles, she'll be standing there. She practically never gets involved in any way, which isn't to say she needs to, but I started relegating her as "the puzzle solving tool" by the end as she awkwardly sits, awaiting me to call her to do this specific thing while she has no mind of her own. It stops feeling like a connection and more like she's just something you need to progress, which is self-destructive for a game like Ico, where immersion and believability might as well be the focal point. A beautiful game, yet it could've been much more to me.

Fumito Ueda's grand adventure. Ico! It's simplistic nature and cinematic platforming roots give us unlike anything that come before... maybe since.

This is a game that stripped all of it's flashy parts and only did the bare minimum with it's mechanics. Because it just wants to be a handholding adventure game and just does that. Nothing more, nothing less. If it's mechanics are barebones then why this game is super highly regarded? It's because they used all of their development budget on giving you the VIBES.

It's suspenseful atmosphere, it's dark foreboding loneliness, the feeling that you are in a unknown mysterious place, giving you the feeling that light is your friend, shadows are your enemy. It's masterfully constructs this atmosphere with it's foreboding castle structures, it's cinematic camera angles, it's realistic sound effects. Also it's rare use of music is a super effective choice in this as well. They only come in cutscenes or when you found a save station to make you feel secure(like go and give a listen to Ico: Healing. It's perfect save room music in my opinion).

Only game that come close to giving the same vibes is again another Fumito Ueda game, The Last Guardian, but even that one is more on the hopeful adventurous side in my opinion. This one just in the middle, both suspenseful, both hopeful. It's just perfect vibes.

Now, is this game perfect? No. It does have it's issues like all the other Fumito Ueda games. For example sometimes fixed camera angles obstructs the interactables or doesn't give you a good angle to be able to plan your jump. Our attacks or jumps can't be cancelled nor change their direction after initiating so this adds to the janky feeling a bit. Also our partner Yorda's Ai gets dumb when you are around ladders for some reason(she decides to climb it all the way even tho I am not near it nor I didn't order it to do so sometimes).

Then why 5/5 then? It's hard to explain, but when the atmosphere, the vibes takes you in, I can't help but give it a 5/5. Because there is no other game like it.

What's the bare minimum you need for a game? How little do you truly need to be engaging? How much do you really have to put in front of a player? ICO is a 2001 adventure game that is an exercise in minimalist game design: a game designed around weaving a tale of romance and trust whilst having as little as possible interrupt your experience.

It's a tale as old as time immemorial: boy meets girl. Our lead Ico and the girl he's escorting, Yorda, are trapped in a massive citadel, and cannot communicate with each other due to a language barrier. Despite this, the duo must work together to escape the labyrinthine prison they find themselves in. It's a plot we all know the basic beats to, but what makes it unique is the minimalist way the story is told. On the gameplay front, we play as Ico, who handles the heavy lifting: he climbs chains and cliff-faces, pushes blocks, carries items to-and-fro and engages in combat. While Yorda cannot do any of this, she is needed to help open the magically sealed doors that Ico cannot open by his lonesome. Therefore, each puzzle is designed around creating a path as Ico for Yorda to travel and open the next door up ahead. This gameplay loop builds dependence on Yorda for both Ico and by extension, the player. You will often lead Yorda through each room hand-in-hand, and the little moments and stellar animation work, like Ico helping Yorda climb up tall ledges or extending his hand to catch Yorda as she makes leaps of faith builds trust in both Ico and the player. In turn, Yorda will often wander around environments looking for puzzle solutions, or inviting Ico to rest at a save point. In a game with as sparse a story as Ico's, these little moments do most of the heavy lifting for the player's investment in the plight of the duo.

The atmosphere is the other part of why ICO works so well. Very rarely is any actual music heard, and what little of it there is, it's mostly ambient and drone. Your journey is instead backed by the sounds of howling wind, running water, crackling torches, and Ico and Yorda's footsteps. Lacking a HUD or a UI of any kind outside of the save points and the pause menu, the game is all about the vistas: a camera more interested in big panning shots of the citadel and it's walls, where you are a secondary, if not tertiary concern. You exit the citadel momentarily to see an endless ocean, and the far walls of the rest of the citadel, places you have been and places you will go. It's one big connected odyssey, that fully engrosses you in it's world. When I sat down for my first playthrough, I was so invested I completed the entire game in one sitting.

ICO is a beautiful game that thrives in what it lacks rather that what it has. Its striking minimalism and strong aesthetics tell a story stronger than any normal narrative ever could, purely through it's use of in-game actions and mechanics, and it is an experience you won't regret having.

Artfully hides its linearity and fundamental game-ness by stripping away ornament. The player isn’t told where to go or what to do, and the feeling of anxiety that shadows the illusion of free will remains although there’s only one thing to do, and one way to do it. The process of subtraction extends beyond the game’s mechanics and into its themes and visual language too: that is, the language barrier (who needs dialogue) adds to the feeling of alienation the player feels when experiencing said illusion, and this is set against the bare backdrop of the sublime: the foreboding cliffs and vast landscapes constantly reminding of the relative insignificance of one's struggle for existence. This forced reflection strengthens the game's drive — the feeling of dread when experiencing "the dizziness of freedom" (the push/pull: to jump or not, to turn the system off, etc) becomes insignificant when compared to the responsibility one feels for saving Yorda. Love triumphs, life too.

Children of Llullaillaco were three Inca kids found in the Northernmost part of my Country. They were human sacrifices that took place in a religious ceremony at the top of a cold mountain, were they were buried alive.
One of these children was a high-born lady, destined from birth to become a sacrifice for the gods.
The other was a random kid they found in the streets of the Empire, while the lady was well dressed and clean, the boy was blindfolded, wore rugged clothes and fought nails and teeth to save his life.


The vivid mummies of Llullaillaco are one of the most well preserved of all times, they don't look dead or ancient. They are just sleeping children.

While I was playing this game I found small parallels between these stories. In my head it felt like the boy (who looks just like the mummy) was given one last chance to save his life and that of the Maiden. The desperate running, the way he swung his sword not as a skilled swordsman, but as a kid trying to fend off something he doesn't quite understand. It felt personal, yet distant. Like the events of Llullaillaco only happened a mere 500 years ago, right were I live.

The tale of Ico unequivocally places the player on the shoes of a kid; He runs like a kid, fights like a kid, jumps as a kid and even sits as one. Every mechanic is built in service of this: The combat is simple, doesn't have a Health bar cause' it doesn't need to. The tight jumps where you need to catch the maiden, where you are at the edge of your seat waiting for your joystick to just slightly vibrate is executed masterfully.

This 20 year old game creates an immersive and rich experience, polished by the subtle art of subtraction. Ico tells the story that those kids never had. I'm not sure if Fumito Ueda was inspired by the Childrens of Llullaillaco, but his team manages to tell a tale where for about six hours-

You were there.

Thank you ConeCvltist for the recommendation.

What can you do to make a game better? I've always thought adding to a game can only improve the experience. After playing Ico I've realised that sometimes less is more.

You start the game with no objective or a marker to follow, you're simply left to explore the castle and try to find a way out. Nothing is explained to you and it makes it so much more rewarding as you work out how to progress through the game. The castle feels so real as it doesn't play out like a linear level, instead it is one big interconnected world.

Ico takes a very minimalist approach with its game design but that is in no way a negative. Having no HUD makes you feel more immersed in the world and the lack of music at times helps enhance the atmosphere. All of these simple approaches make you forget that your playing a game and helps create a beautiful world to get lost in.

Ico flourishes with its simplicity and tells a powerful story that only a video game can tell. Now I've played Ico I can see how much of an impact it has had on the gaming industry, inspiring so many games since its release. This is a must play if you are a fan of video games.

Living in the UK means I own a PAL copy of the game so I am blessed with the beautiful cover art.

Fumito Ueda's hyper-sensual debut is the most influential single player experience of the 21st century. While Ico may have adapted Out of This World's style of puzzle-platforming gameplay from a decade prior (taking it from 2D into 3D), its most unprecedented innovations actually lie in its immersive value.

Here's a bold claim: Ico is the first 3D game with fully believable animation. It's difficult to believe that characters designed and animated at the turn of the century, appearing first on sixth generation hardware, manage to be so captivating in their motions. Yorda patting a save bench in hopes that you'll come sit with her is one of countless soaring moments. You'll believe she really was there and gesturing to you, not merely conveying some mechanic you need to make use of. There's nothing uncanny about it at all. Ico is a purely interactive experience, so almost nothing that happens in the game registers in the mind as text or 'concepts'. It all must be felt to be processed, and it never seemslike the game design is punishing your progress despite how uncompromising it is.

Also worthy of note, Yorda being older than you (or at least taller) prevents the game from seeming like it can adhere to a standard otaku fantasy. Yorda must be protected, but you'd have to be pretty depraved to desire possessing her. After all, the first thing you do with her is break her out of a cage.

You'll need some patience to get through this game. Before getting your first "weapon upgrade" fights take too long, your companion's AI is a little unresponsive, and controls in general can be a little janky. Considering who the protagonists are, on the realism side of things, it does a good job, but this isn't for everyone. Rushing will get you nowhere, so if you're feeling frustrated with the game, turn it off and come back later. It will make for a far better overall experience.

Where this game excels is in the presentation.
The game is incredibly minimalistic in pretty much all of its aspects.
The overall atmosphere and environment is really well done. It has to be experienced and can't exactly be put into words.
The story is open to interpretation and you're free to fill in the wide gaps however you wish.
The puzzles are made in a clever way where they aren't difficult, but if you're not paying attention to the little hints given to you by either by the camera angles or your companion (although you have to wait for a bit before she points it out) you'll be stuck for longer than you normally would.

On a first playthrough, it can take a bit before you're used to the game's systems and overall feel. On a second playthrough, while you'll know what's going on, it's fun to catch the little details you may have missed and it will be an overall smoother experience.

Even with the flaws this game has, if you're interested in playing through a good chunk of the PS2's library, I'd recommend you give this game a try.

When we see a great film or finish reading a long novel, we have some words to describe our impressions.

Fumito Ueda's games are very difficult to put into words.
But one thing is for sure. Fumito Ueda's games are more than just action games. I'm hesitant to use the adjective "writer" for video games. But if it were allowed, Fumito Ueda would certainly be one of them.

I would like to write about what's in the game, but I don't seem to have the ability to do so. I'm sorry. Rather, I hesitate to even give it a score.

Oh, but I think the package illustration on the left is the worst. (How did this happen? lol)

Kind of a perfect game to come back to after a long kind of absence from the medium. It was so easy to find myself getting lost in the atmosphere of Ico. Even when I would personally get frustrated while playing I was to compose myself right away because everything else just felt so serene. Some of my favorite moments in the game were just jumping around and climbing the castle. With detailed sound design and beautiful visual direction to pair alongside each other.

However what I think what ultimately makes Ico so incredible is its narrative. Its interesting to play this after playing Shadow of the Colossus a while ago because I feel as though their stories are sort of different takes on a central theme. That being the "boy tries to save girl" found in a lot of video games and just stories in general. In Shadow of the Colossus Mono is already under her deep sleep and needs Wander to revive her. Resulting in a journey that he embarks on alone to save her. Whereas here in Ico Yorda is apart of our journey every step of the way. We have to fend off the shadow creatures in order to protect her. Even if these two aren't able to understand each other the simple gesture of holding onto each other is something far more powerful. Ico the boy who was destined to be scarified and Yorda the girl who was destined to be possessed by her evil mother. Coming together like that? How could I not tear up by the end?