I can see why this is considered one of the quintessential ps2 era games. It was a special experience that really sticks out amongst a lot of other games of its time. The story is quite vague, but I loved it regardless.
after playing SotC i HAD to play this. absolutely beautiful game that i can tell is so influential in games as a whole:) a really unique and special experience
Uma obra de arte, a atmosfera é incrível e a história é simples mas bonita. É lindo de ver o laço entre o Ico e a Yorda se desenvolvendo durante o jogo. A gameplay não envelheceu muito bem e as vezes mais atrapalha do que ajuda
yall dont understand this game like I do man
beautiful. shame about the motion sickness
Coming from SotC, I was expecting the previous game from Fumito Ueda to be another jewel, and it didn't disappoint. The premise is pretty simple, and the puzzles are easy to complete (although I had to use a guide at times because I was genuinely lost, I won't lie). The setting and music are very beautiful and worth playing the game for them, as for the gameplay... It was frustrating. Won't bash the game too much, but the combat is terrible, and I understand that's the point, you're no warrior like Wander, you're just a child, but you can't avoid it either so you're forced to suffer through it. Also, not sure if it was a thing of the port, of my controller or just my feeling, but the controls were weird and janky at times. It's a shame that a game with such beautiful theming and story is paired with such an uncomfortable gaming experience, but still, if given the opportunity, I would still recommend you to play, it's worth it.
Meanwhile in Japan: oh, let's make a game where the player's worst enemy is the camera! Otherwise it's a great experience even today, beautiful production design for its time + timeless level design, gorgeous minimalistic story with classic puzzles.
cool ass game i guess. Slightly annoting at some parts
A very sweet and heartwarming experience focusing on the chains of fate and how the human heart cannot be restricted by barriers such as labels, heritage or language. Brilliant usage of the medium through lighting, sound design, movement and spacing through both the environments themselves and the camera. Quite possibly Team Ico’s most distinctive work, certainly the one that performs the best. Ueda’s philosophy of “design by subtraction” couldn’t have worked better, and its influence can be seen all across the medium of gaming.
One of my favorite games of all time. The game is very simple, but very amazing. It's all the little things. Moving though the castle and seeing the vast views. The puzzles all of which are well thought out. The combat is a little sloppy but there's not a lot of it. Music is great. The story is simple but powerful. The HD is very well done this isn't just a sloppy port.
There are always those monumental works within their respective mediums that I encounter from time to time. Each instance is a hard challenge when it comes to deconstruction, at least from my perspective. Whether I'm trying to outline my thoughts or writing down all my collective reflections, serving them justice becomes a tough task to do so.
No matter how hard I attempt to pen-down my thoughts about the game, Capturing my feelings becomes more complex. "Ico" undoubtedly stands as a masterpiece within its genre, largely due to its exceptional atmosphere that's constructed through various artistic elements. The impeccable interplay of sound design, the expansive yet isolating design of the castle, the vividly expressive animations of the characters – all of these combine to create an experience that invokes a powerful blend of hopelessness and determination. Furthermore, the game's exceptional cinematic camera work immerses players even further. My memory fails to recall a gaming experience evoked feelings of both hopelessness and nervous anticipation. The struggle to navigate the game armed solely with a stick, while simultaneously solving puzzles that practically rewired my approach, was truly stress-inducing. The philosophy approached here was pure minimalism, universal gameplay design choices weren't a thing which made the game feel unique and unforgettable.
This game stands as a remarkable experience that defies conventions. Incredible & exceptional design and storytelling, leaving me a profound impact that's hard to express.
No matter how hard I attempt to pen-down my thoughts about the game, Capturing my feelings becomes more complex. "Ico" undoubtedly stands as a masterpiece within its genre, largely due to its exceptional atmosphere that's constructed through various artistic elements. The impeccable interplay of sound design, the expansive yet isolating design of the castle, the vividly expressive animations of the characters – all of these combine to create an experience that invokes a powerful blend of hopelessness and determination. Furthermore, the game's exceptional cinematic camera work immerses players even further. My memory fails to recall a gaming experience evoked feelings of both hopelessness and nervous anticipation. The struggle to navigate the game armed solely with a stick, while simultaneously solving puzzles that practically rewired my approach, was truly stress-inducing. The philosophy approached here was pure minimalism, universal gameplay design choices weren't a thing which made the game feel unique and unforgettable.
This game stands as a remarkable experience that defies conventions. Incredible & exceptional design and storytelling, leaving me a profound impact that's hard to express.
I'm an unapologetic cynic when it comes to artsy indie games. Games that attempt to conjure some sense of wonder by having you stand atop a sacred monument, so you can float and glow as you acquire your new power-up. It's shallow and insincere. A painting you bought at B&Q. Fucking... products. I know where it comes from, and it's fucking ICO.
This isn't a game that's dated. It's always been this unique and defiant of trends, but I think people tend to overlook its strengths on the criteria of a standard videogame. It's like a surreal, somewhat realistic version of Zelda. Like a regular kid actually had to go through all of that, panting and wheezing through every climb and fight. It's not a game that gratifies, but it's so much more tangible and relatable for that. Puzzle pieces are obscured by the imposing scale of these giant halls and walkways. You're very small, weak and unsure of where to go. You'll enter a room you don't belong in, and you feel unwelcome. That's something everyone has felt before, and the game is so effective in conveying that emotion.
ICO is a real credit to the group at SCEI that would later be known as Japan Studio. The cutscene animator from Enemy Zero on the Saturn walked in with an experimental pitch video he'd put together and they supported his project from PS1 prototype to complete overhaul and eventual release on PS2. It's no wonder that when Uncharted 2 turned Sony's fortunes around and determined the trajectory that the company would radically shift towards, would they fire every member of corporate responsible for that decision.
The game runs on a consistent sensation of weight and frailty. The boyish tug at Yorda's hand. The sense of dread whenever you have to separate. The distrust of yourself before attempting a perilous jump that might be the route forward, and the subsequent fear when you have to ask the emaciated Yorda to do the same. Ico, reassuringly holding out his hand to catch her, but shaking in fear at the uncertainty. The relatable tangibility in all of that massively benefits from Ueda's background in visual art and animation. This game is a keeper.
Ueda has described his approach as "design by subtraction". ICO was seen as shockingly sparse and minimalist in its day. Even its most influential and daring contemporaries like GTA3 and MGS2 were still utilising floating power-ups, on-screen status bars and detailed objectives, and it was strange to see a game without them. Picking up an old save today, there's an almost instinctive search for a map screen as you try to recall your bearings. Ueda has frequently cited Another World as a primary influence, and it wouldn't be right to suggest that this style of game design was entirely his invention, but for a game with this level of nuanced interaction and free movement, it was quite daring. There's no old RPG mechanics holding this thing together. You're not looking at numbers and trying to determine the best strategy you can afford. It feels physical. If you need an item, you have to go find it and pick it up. You're not told what state the protagonists are in, or how strong the enemies might be, and there's a fear in the ambiguity.
I expect this is basic knowledge to anyone with a similar attitude towards games, but so much has been lost in the utilitarian homogenisation of camera systems today. The right stick swivelling around the playable character as its constant centre. It's so boring and limiting as a design principle. Back in the early days of game design, there was real thought put into what a screen needed to show. That one screen was your whole game, so it better be good. Predetermined camera angles have as much potential to games as they have to films. It's also good when your artists don't have to piss around texturing every pebble from every conceivable angle and just focus on making each moment look as good as possible. In ICO, you're always looking down at the characters. Ico and Yorda are always very small, and the full dimensions of the giant, suffocating castle are difficult to discern. In the action scenes, you don't always know where the shadowy figures are. Yorda might turn her head towards them, as a subtle warning, but that aide is gone if she's ever taken away, and it's a scramble to determine where she is. The emotion in the game wouldn't resonate nearly as effectively if it played like Ratchet & Clank.
Then there's the sofas. A surreal sight in the middle of these stone ruins. Ico and Yorda sit side by side on them and you can save the game. They don't exist in the scenario's logic. I don't know if I even want to recognise them as canon. They're brilliantly symbolic, though. A small home comfort in this desperate, lonely situation. You don't have to suffer through this. You save and return when you want to come back. Ico and Yorda sit side by side. There's no implication of romance or anything, just mutual trust, respect and devotion. The castle is intimidating, but there's nothing to distrust in these two.
The rigid, uniform, endless brickwork you find yourself trapped within, and the rare glimpses of the boundless, vibrant forest beyond. The catharsis you feel whenever you work against the castle's symmetrical, straightline logic.
Sometimes, I like to keep the game paused and let the ambience take over. The rolling waves and birdsong. There's a mood that envelops the room whenever I turn on ICO.
ICO is in no ways a perfect game. It's easy for current fans to overlook how obtuse an old favourite can be, or even admire it for that very quality, but it's not really an aspect of game design to be applauded. Anyone who has played an old adventure game will know the frustration of not knowing how to progress, rummaging around in desperation and fighting off the growing desire to quit. A first-time ICO playthrough has plenty of those moments to offer. They add to that important sense of powerlessness, sure, but you feel you need to be very gentle in recommending the game to potential players.
I sometimes talk about the frustration and anguish in ICO's combat. How that complements the setting. You know - I'm not confident it's fully intentional. With as much as folk love ICO, we tend to forget the scene it came out of. Have you played any of those late-90s hack n slashes recently? When was the last time you had a go on T'ai Fu or Ninja: Shadow of Darkness? I'm not confident that they're a million miles away from ICO's punishing repetition. This game was made by a small, somewhat inexperienced team, and it's probably a little pretentious to suggest that everything in the game was done with great insight and intent. When there's something really great in this game, you can typically attribute that to Ueda and not the handful of software specialists under him.
The surprising thing is that ICO remains very gamey. You solve puzzles by sliding big blocks onto platforms and lighting giant Tom & Jerry bombs. Puzzles are self-contained and utilise a small selection of playing pieces. Core Design-era Tomb Raider climbing and Pikmin 1 partner management. It's good. We like games.
Ueda has frustrated interviewers who have attempted to pry into the game's setting and lore with a down-to-earth, utilitarian attitude. He insists the ruins aren't intended to suggest anything. They were just a good match for the gameplay he wanted to explore. I don't think he's being dishonest. ICO is first and foremost a video game, and seemingly, any abstractions on top of that are only intended to guide the player's emotion. I've always enjoyed reflecting on the out-there ceremonial purpose of each location in the castle, but that's really just me seeing what I want to in this series of elaborately decorated puzzles. There isn't a fantasy novel behind this, though Ueda's never deterred audiences from their interpretations. ICO is just a distinctive, ambitious artist trying to make his own version of Kula World. If this was all a serious, dour exploration of the nature of trust, do you think he'd have put a hidden lightsaber in this thing?
Even though I haven't played through the original PS2 version since getting my CRT, I found myself sucked into the PS3 HD remaster this time. What can I say? I'm weak. I like wireless controllers and an internal hard drive. There are arguments to be made against the purist approach, though. Ueda was deeply involved in the remaster, and the level of detail in some of the more ornate texturework is really something to admire. It's still his vision, even I have my reservations about the sharp, high-contrast tiling covering every floor. I think a washed-out, foggy presentation really benefits ICO's atmosphere, and if there was ever a PS2 game to play on a CRT, this is probably it (please stick with me here, Silent Hill 2 fans), but there's appealing qualities unique to the PS3 release too. Don't get too high and mighty about it. It's a fine way to play. And no matter which revision you play, jumping on that piston always blows.
ICO is just a very different idea of what games can be. What we thought they might be when the PS2 came out. It's so richly evocative of that promise. The launch-era dream that makes me cherish my Horizontal Stand so dearly. The quiet before the Vice City boys got in, and Sony went full boar on getting themselves a Halo Killer. I couldn't put my finger on what was missing from them at the time, but the market's influence on this year's Zelda and Pikmin sequels really made me appreciate another run through ICO. No matter which direction the industry goes in, this game will still exist. The dream goes on.
This isn't a game that's dated. It's always been this unique and defiant of trends, but I think people tend to overlook its strengths on the criteria of a standard videogame. It's like a surreal, somewhat realistic version of Zelda. Like a regular kid actually had to go through all of that, panting and wheezing through every climb and fight. It's not a game that gratifies, but it's so much more tangible and relatable for that. Puzzle pieces are obscured by the imposing scale of these giant halls and walkways. You're very small, weak and unsure of where to go. You'll enter a room you don't belong in, and you feel unwelcome. That's something everyone has felt before, and the game is so effective in conveying that emotion.
ICO is a real credit to the group at SCEI that would later be known as Japan Studio. The cutscene animator from Enemy Zero on the Saturn walked in with an experimental pitch video he'd put together and they supported his project from PS1 prototype to complete overhaul and eventual release on PS2. It's no wonder that when Uncharted 2 turned Sony's fortunes around and determined the trajectory that the company would radically shift towards, would they fire every member of corporate responsible for that decision.
The game runs on a consistent sensation of weight and frailty. The boyish tug at Yorda's hand. The sense of dread whenever you have to separate. The distrust of yourself before attempting a perilous jump that might be the route forward, and the subsequent fear when you have to ask the emaciated Yorda to do the same. Ico, reassuringly holding out his hand to catch her, but shaking in fear at the uncertainty. The relatable tangibility in all of that massively benefits from Ueda's background in visual art and animation. This game is a keeper.
Ueda has described his approach as "design by subtraction". ICO was seen as shockingly sparse and minimalist in its day. Even its most influential and daring contemporaries like GTA3 and MGS2 were still utilising floating power-ups, on-screen status bars and detailed objectives, and it was strange to see a game without them. Picking up an old save today, there's an almost instinctive search for a map screen as you try to recall your bearings. Ueda has frequently cited Another World as a primary influence, and it wouldn't be right to suggest that this style of game design was entirely his invention, but for a game with this level of nuanced interaction and free movement, it was quite daring. There's no old RPG mechanics holding this thing together. You're not looking at numbers and trying to determine the best strategy you can afford. It feels physical. If you need an item, you have to go find it and pick it up. You're not told what state the protagonists are in, or how strong the enemies might be, and there's a fear in the ambiguity.
I expect this is basic knowledge to anyone with a similar attitude towards games, but so much has been lost in the utilitarian homogenisation of camera systems today. The right stick swivelling around the playable character as its constant centre. It's so boring and limiting as a design principle. Back in the early days of game design, there was real thought put into what a screen needed to show. That one screen was your whole game, so it better be good. Predetermined camera angles have as much potential to games as they have to films. It's also good when your artists don't have to piss around texturing every pebble from every conceivable angle and just focus on making each moment look as good as possible. In ICO, you're always looking down at the characters. Ico and Yorda are always very small, and the full dimensions of the giant, suffocating castle are difficult to discern. In the action scenes, you don't always know where the shadowy figures are. Yorda might turn her head towards them, as a subtle warning, but that aide is gone if she's ever taken away, and it's a scramble to determine where she is. The emotion in the game wouldn't resonate nearly as effectively if it played like Ratchet & Clank.
Then there's the sofas. A surreal sight in the middle of these stone ruins. Ico and Yorda sit side by side on them and you can save the game. They don't exist in the scenario's logic. I don't know if I even want to recognise them as canon. They're brilliantly symbolic, though. A small home comfort in this desperate, lonely situation. You don't have to suffer through this. You save and return when you want to come back. Ico and Yorda sit side by side. There's no implication of romance or anything, just mutual trust, respect and devotion. The castle is intimidating, but there's nothing to distrust in these two.
The rigid, uniform, endless brickwork you find yourself trapped within, and the rare glimpses of the boundless, vibrant forest beyond. The catharsis you feel whenever you work against the castle's symmetrical, straightline logic.
Sometimes, I like to keep the game paused and let the ambience take over. The rolling waves and birdsong. There's a mood that envelops the room whenever I turn on ICO.
ICO is in no ways a perfect game. It's easy for current fans to overlook how obtuse an old favourite can be, or even admire it for that very quality, but it's not really an aspect of game design to be applauded. Anyone who has played an old adventure game will know the frustration of not knowing how to progress, rummaging around in desperation and fighting off the growing desire to quit. A first-time ICO playthrough has plenty of those moments to offer. They add to that important sense of powerlessness, sure, but you feel you need to be very gentle in recommending the game to potential players.
I sometimes talk about the frustration and anguish in ICO's combat. How that complements the setting. You know - I'm not confident it's fully intentional. With as much as folk love ICO, we tend to forget the scene it came out of. Have you played any of those late-90s hack n slashes recently? When was the last time you had a go on T'ai Fu or Ninja: Shadow of Darkness? I'm not confident that they're a million miles away from ICO's punishing repetition. This game was made by a small, somewhat inexperienced team, and it's probably a little pretentious to suggest that everything in the game was done with great insight and intent. When there's something really great in this game, you can typically attribute that to Ueda and not the handful of software specialists under him.
The surprising thing is that ICO remains very gamey. You solve puzzles by sliding big blocks onto platforms and lighting giant Tom & Jerry bombs. Puzzles are self-contained and utilise a small selection of playing pieces. Core Design-era Tomb Raider climbing and Pikmin 1 partner management. It's good. We like games.
Ueda has frustrated interviewers who have attempted to pry into the game's setting and lore with a down-to-earth, utilitarian attitude. He insists the ruins aren't intended to suggest anything. They were just a good match for the gameplay he wanted to explore. I don't think he's being dishonest. ICO is first and foremost a video game, and seemingly, any abstractions on top of that are only intended to guide the player's emotion. I've always enjoyed reflecting on the out-there ceremonial purpose of each location in the castle, but that's really just me seeing what I want to in this series of elaborately decorated puzzles. There isn't a fantasy novel behind this, though Ueda's never deterred audiences from their interpretations. ICO is just a distinctive, ambitious artist trying to make his own version of Kula World. If this was all a serious, dour exploration of the nature of trust, do you think he'd have put a hidden lightsaber in this thing?
Even though I haven't played through the original PS2 version since getting my CRT, I found myself sucked into the PS3 HD remaster this time. What can I say? I'm weak. I like wireless controllers and an internal hard drive. There are arguments to be made against the purist approach, though. Ueda was deeply involved in the remaster, and the level of detail in some of the more ornate texturework is really something to admire. It's still his vision, even I have my reservations about the sharp, high-contrast tiling covering every floor. I think a washed-out, foggy presentation really benefits ICO's atmosphere, and if there was ever a PS2 game to play on a CRT, this is probably it (please stick with me here, Silent Hill 2 fans), but there's appealing qualities unique to the PS3 release too. Don't get too high and mighty about it. It's a fine way to play. And no matter which revision you play, jumping on that piston always blows.
ICO is just a very different idea of what games can be. What we thought they might be when the PS2 came out. It's so richly evocative of that promise. The launch-era dream that makes me cherish my Horizontal Stand so dearly. The quiet before the Vice City boys got in, and Sony went full boar on getting themselves a Halo Killer. I couldn't put my finger on what was missing from them at the time, but the market's influence on this year's Zelda and Pikmin sequels really made me appreciate another run through ICO. No matter which direction the industry goes in, this game will still exist. The dream goes on.
Obscenely overrated.
This is a great example of how the atmosphere is sometimes all you need to make something engaging and thought-provoking. I didn't completely understand the story when it was over, but I think that's the point.
an extremely rewarding game to solve puzzles and explore in.
WOW! You can feel the passion and emotional weight poured into this game for every minute of playtime. I love the puzzles, I love the game logic, I love the combat, and I love the characters! To me this deserves the ports that shadow the colossus has gotten, not to disparage that game, but this game has an incredible soul in it that you can still feel. I'm still not entirely sure why shadow of the colossus is labelled a "spiritual successor" to this game. It can make sense in terms of gameplay with the ledge hanging, jumping, and acrobatics you can make your little boy do, but to me the AI companion role is not filled in by Agro. I like that there are no collectibles in Ico. I don't think this game would have been as good with the modern sensibilities that many games have now. This game is so focused, brilliant, and enlightening that I need another dose of it.
Beautiful. The controls however are very dated.
(****ing watermill)
(****ing watermill)
A medida que lo jugaba, me iba enamorando del juego. Esto es arte.
No se que nota darle a este juego, nisiquiera se si debería darle una nota, este juego me hizo sentir cosas muy curiosas, no sabría decir si me gustó o no , por un lado el juego es hermoso y me gusta mucho su filosofía minimalista y de limpieza, el juego se deshace del Hub, no hay barras de vida o interfaz de ningún tipo, utiliza una paleta de colores simple ,su sistema de combate es muy sencillo y apenas hay diálogos. El juego no necesita nada de eso para construir la relación entre tú y Yorda, simplemente el caminar juntos tomados de las manos va poco a poco fortaleciendo su relación, al menos así lo sentí yo, al principio no la agarraba mucho de la mano y siempre la llamaba mientras caminaba pero con el tiempo empecé a soltarla menos cada que una de las sombras se la llevaba , me preocupaba cada vez más, sin decir una palabra pude sentirme su amigo, su compañero, sentir que estaba ahí con ella haciendo todo lo posible por escapar y creo que esa sensación no se hubiese conseguido sin esa filosofía de limpieza. Es muy catartico y emocionante ver que cuando te encuentras en un aprieto ella te salve tomándote de la mano mostrando el avance en su relación y la importancia de ese gesto. Por otro lado no negare que a la largo del juego sentí una sensación de incomodidad, no por controles sino por el diseño del escenario, es muy ridículo y muchas veces me sacaba por completo de onda, es cierto que el lugar es una prisión pensada para que no escapes lo cual podría justificar algunas cosas pero en general la poca coherencia del escenario me provocó una gran incomodidad al jugar, se siente muy extraño. No creo que este error dañe lo que el juego hace bien y Admito que es uno de los juegos que más me han emocionado de todo lo que he jugado estos últimos meses, es un juego en el que seguiré pensando de aquí a un tiempo, no puedo olvidarme de la belleza de sus paisajes ni de mi amistad con Yorda, de la misma forma que no podré olvidar la incomodidad de recorrer el castillo.
Eso sí el final es hermoso y hacerte recorrer una playa iluminada con un sol radiante casi sintiendo como el aire te da en la cara es increíble.
Edit: Creo que ya se de donde viene esa incomodidad, el juego me hace sentir pequeño, muy pequeño, la cámara se va lejos y te hace ver como algo pequeño e insignificante, he estado rejugando a Shadow of the colosus y sentí lo mismo. Ahora entiendo mejor ese sentimiento, me sentía pequeño en un espacio claustrofobico, de ahí venía mi incomodidad , este juego es fascinante.
Eso sí el final es hermoso y hacerte recorrer una playa iluminada con un sol radiante casi sintiendo como el aire te da en la cara es increíble.
Edit: Creo que ya se de donde viene esa incomodidad, el juego me hace sentir pequeño, muy pequeño, la cámara se va lejos y te hace ver como algo pequeño e insignificante, he estado rejugando a Shadow of the colosus y sentí lo mismo. Ahora entiendo mejor ese sentimiento, me sentía pequeño en un espacio claustrofobico, de ahí venía mi incomodidad , este juego es fascinante.
Ico is an exceptional work of art, and is among the greatest games of all time. There is a magic to Ico that got me to invest heavily in its characters, to feel the thins the characters felt. When the story required me to leave Yorda behind, even if only for a little bit, I was always extremely anxious because I was worried something might happen to her. Ico could be described as a game about what it truly means to care for another person, going out of your way to bond with another to fight against evil forces.
The storytelling of Ico is amazing in its minimalism. There are very few lines of dialogue, but the game suggests so much with its few simple elements. The empty castle invites questions about how it was used, and what it's purpose was. You are invited to think about why the Queen does what she does. Do the spirits work for her, and if so, why? Why was Ico sacrificed? If you pay attention there are small repeated details that aren't enough to form a whole picture, but in suggesting that there are patterns, that the world is deliberately designed, it invites players to think about the castle and what it means for themselves. And the fact that it can convey its story primarily through interactive elements speaks to the strength of Ico's storytelling chops and the potential for games as a whole. "Story" in games is often thought of as all of the stuff that is there to be experienced but not interacted with. Cutscenes, data logs, journal entries, these are what people usually point to when they discuss "narrative" in games, but Ico is light on that. Rather its story is felt in the actions you perform. Its in the tension of a perilous jump from a chain high above a court yard. Its in the terror of watching Yorda get carried away by a bird spirit.
The architecture of the game helps significantly as well. The castle's architecture has a natural sense to it, while also feeling otherworldly and distant. The tall rooves and anxious spires make the protagonists feel small and fragile in the shadow of such a formidable structure. One could break down the architecture in a full video or article, and maybe I will. I'll save that for a future time though.
There are some issues with Ico, some that are quite noticeable, but I find myself very willing to forgive these mistakes. Some are technical. Yorda's AI sometimes is a bit odd and can feel a bit artificial at times as you wait for her to get the idea that she has to jump across a gap to join you. It's not bad because its slow, but it reveals a bit of the illusion that this is just a computer game. However, being on the PS2, this is an understandable issue. Making fully convincing human AIs in games is still hard today, let alone back then. Secondly, there are a decent number of puzzles that I got stuck on, not because I had not figured out the solution, but because I didn't know about a mechanic. I hadn't realized that I could swing on chains, which made one puzzle impassible until I looked it up. Another example is more egregious. After getting the sword you are taught it can cut ropes. Handy. However, there is a part where there is a bridge held open by a rope slightly above Ico's head. It looks like he can hit it with the sword, but swings won't damage it. I assumed I needed a new solution. I was wrong. Instead I just had to get the 3 hit combo to swing my sword in the air for the swing to connect. Even knowing about how to solve the puzzle, it was really finnicky to line up. This puzzle would be no different if you could just hit the rope with a normal swing. Thirdly, there are a few jumps that are really bad. The first is a jump that you have to make in time with a spring machine to launch yourself into the air. I was attempting this for minutes before it worked, and the timing is way too strict. I had the right idea but gave up on it because I didn't think it could throw me higher. Then, right after that the wheel jump onto the bars took me minutes of attempts, and has no right being as precise as it is. Most of the game has pretty generous and forgiving platforming, so these two examples stick out significantly, and could cause some people who would otherwise love the rest of the game to give up because they can't make the jump.
Even with these problems, Ico is a masterpiece and its hard for me to hold them against the game too much. Its easy to see why Ico is such an influence on gaming.
The storytelling of Ico is amazing in its minimalism. There are very few lines of dialogue, but the game suggests so much with its few simple elements. The empty castle invites questions about how it was used, and what it's purpose was. You are invited to think about why the Queen does what she does. Do the spirits work for her, and if so, why? Why was Ico sacrificed? If you pay attention there are small repeated details that aren't enough to form a whole picture, but in suggesting that there are patterns, that the world is deliberately designed, it invites players to think about the castle and what it means for themselves. And the fact that it can convey its story primarily through interactive elements speaks to the strength of Ico's storytelling chops and the potential for games as a whole. "Story" in games is often thought of as all of the stuff that is there to be experienced but not interacted with. Cutscenes, data logs, journal entries, these are what people usually point to when they discuss "narrative" in games, but Ico is light on that. Rather its story is felt in the actions you perform. Its in the tension of a perilous jump from a chain high above a court yard. Its in the terror of watching Yorda get carried away by a bird spirit.
The architecture of the game helps significantly as well. The castle's architecture has a natural sense to it, while also feeling otherworldly and distant. The tall rooves and anxious spires make the protagonists feel small and fragile in the shadow of such a formidable structure. One could break down the architecture in a full video or article, and maybe I will. I'll save that for a future time though.
There are some issues with Ico, some that are quite noticeable, but I find myself very willing to forgive these mistakes. Some are technical. Yorda's AI sometimes is a bit odd and can feel a bit artificial at times as you wait for her to get the idea that she has to jump across a gap to join you. It's not bad because its slow, but it reveals a bit of the illusion that this is just a computer game. However, being on the PS2, this is an understandable issue. Making fully convincing human AIs in games is still hard today, let alone back then. Secondly, there are a decent number of puzzles that I got stuck on, not because I had not figured out the solution, but because I didn't know about a mechanic. I hadn't realized that I could swing on chains, which made one puzzle impassible until I looked it up. Another example is more egregious. After getting the sword you are taught it can cut ropes. Handy. However, there is a part where there is a bridge held open by a rope slightly above Ico's head. It looks like he can hit it with the sword, but swings won't damage it. I assumed I needed a new solution. I was wrong. Instead I just had to get the 3 hit combo to swing my sword in the air for the swing to connect. Even knowing about how to solve the puzzle, it was really finnicky to line up. This puzzle would be no different if you could just hit the rope with a normal swing. Thirdly, there are a few jumps that are really bad. The first is a jump that you have to make in time with a spring machine to launch yourself into the air. I was attempting this for minutes before it worked, and the timing is way too strict. I had the right idea but gave up on it because I didn't think it could throw me higher. Then, right after that the wheel jump onto the bars took me minutes of attempts, and has no right being as precise as it is. Most of the game has pretty generous and forgiving platforming, so these two examples stick out significantly, and could cause some people who would otherwise love the rest of the game to give up because they can't make the jump.
Even with these problems, Ico is a masterpiece and its hard for me to hold them against the game too much. Its easy to see why Ico is such an influence on gaming.
I remember playing the demo for this game on PS2 from some break-beat fuelled demo disc. How those vibes clashed.
The atmosphere of this game is expertly crafted. The scale of the castle and the feeling of isolation is captured really well. It's unfortunate that the gameplay hasn't stood the test of time.
I recently read through the novelisation of Ico, and although different in some key aspects it really made me want to go back to this game and others from Team Ico.
Although I feel an itch to replay, i'm holding out for a potential remake similar to what they did with SotC which hopefully irons out some of those janky camera/control issues that are indicative of the era of release.
The atmosphere of this game is expertly crafted. The scale of the castle and the feeling of isolation is captured really well. It's unfortunate that the gameplay hasn't stood the test of time.
I recently read through the novelisation of Ico, and although different in some key aspects it really made me want to go back to this game and others from Team Ico.
Although I feel an itch to replay, i'm holding out for a potential remake similar to what they did with SotC which hopefully irons out some of those janky camera/control issues that are indicative of the era of release.
Definition of masterpiece.
The words I'd use to describe Ico are 'Monumentality' and 'Wonder.' The Castle fills me with a sense of both; being able to see places you've been and will go to, as tiny parts of a much larger map fill me with the feeling of how big this palace really is. Seeing the Windmill from the Eastern Gatehouse specifically made me gasp, just a little bit. Wonder is also a very prevelent thing in the game, wonder at what this castle used to be in its heyday, what the shadows were, who Ico was, and where he came from; it inspired me with an imagination, and made me really think while exploring. Ico makes you wonder a lot, and makes you think, but in the end it is an amazingly fun game, which is I think, might be the whole point.
Decente
I can definitely see what people really enjoy about this game, but it isn't for me. I didn't find the gameplay very fun, neither the combat or having to bring your partner around the different levels. The platforming was also pretty bad. I did find the environment very fun to look at and I liked the atmosphere.
Please make this the cover art for all versions, thank you.
THE SHADOWS TRYNA STEAL MY GIRL!
What is destiny?
To some, its the path they seek to forge for themselves, a future that quenches their every desire in life.
Whereas for some others, its the path they have no control of - a fate chosen for them due to circumstances beyond their control, an ending that ultimately leaves them languishing in despair and tragedy.
Both Ico and Yorda fit the latter definition. Initially, at least. Ico, condemned to an eternal prison of misery within the shackles of a tomb, purely because of the two horns on his head; Yorda, bound to the whims of her mother's selfish desire for eternity, born merely to serve a vessel to the Queen's means.
And yet it is also destiny that brings them together. It was destiny that lead to a small tremor that fateful day that released Ico from his prison, and destiny that led him to Yorda's cage in his attempt to escape. From that point onward, their destinies are intertwined.
Ico isn't just a game entirely about trust, or subtractive design, no: it's also a subtly told, well-executed tale of breaking free of destiny. These themes are used in tandem to construct the core foundation of Ico. Without the other beside them, neither Ico nor Yorda can successfully escape the castle, and their mutual trust in one another as well as their individual strengths allows them to constantly punch destiny in the face figuratively. It is their bond that allows them to overcome every obstacle laid before them in the castle. One might even argue that it was destiny that every tool they needed to bypass an area was laid out before them in a visible manner.
Yet, destiny does not relent that easily. Towards the end of the game, the Queen once again interferes with Yorda's fate by turning her into stone, leaving her helpless once again in the strings of her mother's greed. And as Ico rushes back into the castle to save her, he is greeted by the shadows of every child encased in tombs before him, a reminder of his supposed destiny of eternal torture and futility in their efforts to protect a soul they will never truly comprehend. Perhaps, then, is it fitting that Ico slashes them down one by one, as their tombs glow in response. Ico, much like what he did with Yorda, ultimately sets them free from their imprisonment, and saves them from their own destiny.
The story of a hero overcoming their destiny and finding their own path is a tale countless times, Ico does things differently. It allows its subtle animations and the experience of its gameplay tell the entire story, all with barely a line of dialogue from either protagonist. But somehow, by chance, the bond that they share doesn't need that dialogue at all to speak volumes.
All of this makes the ending of the game more rewarding, as Ico and Yorda, whose bond had carried them past the most challenging barriers imaginable, finally reunite on a sandy beach, the shackles of the fates that bound them shattered. Their surroundings are serene, quiet... peaceful. When Yorda awakens from her slumber and sees Ico beside her, we see nothing but a smile.
A smile that promises a future where they can shape their own destiny.
Final rating: 10/10
Focus: The subtle themes of overcoming destiny in Ico
Theme: Destiny.
To some, its the path they seek to forge for themselves, a future that quenches their every desire in life.
Whereas for some others, its the path they have no control of - a fate chosen for them due to circumstances beyond their control, an ending that ultimately leaves them languishing in despair and tragedy.
Both Ico and Yorda fit the latter definition. Initially, at least. Ico, condemned to an eternal prison of misery within the shackles of a tomb, purely because of the two horns on his head; Yorda, bound to the whims of her mother's selfish desire for eternity, born merely to serve a vessel to the Queen's means.
And yet it is also destiny that brings them together. It was destiny that lead to a small tremor that fateful day that released Ico from his prison, and destiny that led him to Yorda's cage in his attempt to escape. From that point onward, their destinies are intertwined.
Ico isn't just a game entirely about trust, or subtractive design, no: it's also a subtly told, well-executed tale of breaking free of destiny. These themes are used in tandem to construct the core foundation of Ico. Without the other beside them, neither Ico nor Yorda can successfully escape the castle, and their mutual trust in one another as well as their individual strengths allows them to constantly punch destiny in the face figuratively. It is their bond that allows them to overcome every obstacle laid before them in the castle. One might even argue that it was destiny that every tool they needed to bypass an area was laid out before them in a visible manner.
Yet, destiny does not relent that easily. Towards the end of the game, the Queen once again interferes with Yorda's fate by turning her into stone, leaving her helpless once again in the strings of her mother's greed. And as Ico rushes back into the castle to save her, he is greeted by the shadows of every child encased in tombs before him, a reminder of his supposed destiny of eternal torture and futility in their efforts to protect a soul they will never truly comprehend. Perhaps, then, is it fitting that Ico slashes them down one by one, as their tombs glow in response. Ico, much like what he did with Yorda, ultimately sets them free from their imprisonment, and saves them from their own destiny.
The story of a hero overcoming their destiny and finding their own path is a tale countless times, Ico does things differently. It allows its subtle animations and the experience of its gameplay tell the entire story, all with barely a line of dialogue from either protagonist. But somehow, by chance, the bond that they share doesn't need that dialogue at all to speak volumes.
All of this makes the ending of the game more rewarding, as Ico and Yorda, whose bond had carried them past the most challenging barriers imaginable, finally reunite on a sandy beach, the shackles of the fates that bound them shattered. Their surroundings are serene, quiet... peaceful. When Yorda awakens from her slumber and sees Ico beside her, we see nothing but a smile.
A smile that promises a future where they can shape their own destiny.
Final rating: 10/10
Focus: The subtle themes of overcoming destiny in Ico
Theme: Destiny.
ico is so timeless and influential it became the industry standard for adventure games, and every single company copied it wrong.
ico makes it's narrative be so compelling by making every aspect of the game geared towards it. the combat is simple, the puzzles are simplistic, even the two characters in the journey don't even understand each other. sometimes less is more and ico understands this perfectly.
it's a simple game, with a simple story about companionship, executed flawlessly.
if someone asked me what makes videogames art, this is the first game i'd show.
ico makes it's narrative be so compelling by making every aspect of the game geared towards it. the combat is simple, the puzzles are simplistic, even the two characters in the journey don't even understand each other. sometimes less is more and ico understands this perfectly.
it's a simple game, with a simple story about companionship, executed flawlessly.
if someone asked me what makes videogames art, this is the first game i'd show.