Es difícil hablar de Proteus sin hablar de lo que no es. Está claro que llega en un momento en el que sacar un walking simulator es un desafío a lo que se considera un videojuego, pero también creo que es una obra a la que, como a todas las que estaban haciendo cosas similares en la época, se les debe un análisis desde la normalidad ahora que el género está asentado y una propuesta así no resulta tan extravagante.

Por otro lado, hablar en detalle de Proteus implicaría examinarlo concienzudamente y creo que eso va en contra de lo que el juego propone. Proteus es un paseo por una isla llena de vida, vegetación y animales en la que podemos andar y contemplar. Todo depende de su experiencia estética, en especial los apartados visual y sonoro, aunque el movimiento también nos indica y limita la clase de interacción con el mundo que busca el diseño del juego. Su propuesta como walking simulator se aleja de lo que habían propuesto otras obras previamente como Dear Esther o incluso Yume Nikki, donde el complemento a la exploración pausada de un mundo que se podía observar era una narrativa críptica y evocadora en el primero y al segundo además se le añade la capacidad de escrutar hasta el último del mundo buscando misterios. Yo no interpreto Proteus como un walking simulator en este mismo sentido, es algo diferente.

Las cosas en Proteus existen en su gran mayoría con independencia de lo que hagamos con ellas. Los conejos saltan si nos acercamos pero hacen su vida si los dejamos en paz. Somos simplemente alguien que contempla. El mundo de Proteus no está pensado para el escrutinio obsesivo de Yume Nikki, sólo tendría sentido si dentro del juego roleamos el papel de un etológo o un biólogo que quiere entender cómo funciona la vida en general en este mundo. Pero mi sensación es que Proteus no busca esto. Proteus quiere que te des un paseo y que mires el paisaje. Ya está.

Esta forma de representar los ecosistemas es la consecuencia de haber asumido un respeto radical por ellos. Si por ejemplo en Aquaria los ecosistemas aparecen gamificados y existen simplemente como elementos dentro de un sistema de juego, cada criatura es un drop de recursos o un obstáculo a superar, la subversión clara de este planteamiento es que todo la vida representada en Proteus no tiene ninguna utilidad. Incluso reniega de ser contemplada como un espectáculo, pues lo que pueden hacer las plantas y animales no depende de que las estemos mirando, existen y, si queremos podemos mirar.

Narrativamente apuesta por cierto minimalismo a través del cliché de las estaciones, único elemento sobre el que se construye algún tipo de progresión, de forma muy similar a como ya lo hizo Journey. Nada especial que añadir, no me parece que termine de golpear emocionalmente porque no hace una construcción previa y tampoco resulta una forma demasiado genuina de transmitir un mensaje. Pero entendiendo que no es un elemento de lo más importante, que es que es un juego que nos quiere enseñar a relajarnos y tocar césped, me parece adecuado.

Это, в общем-то и не игра даже, а интерактивное искусство, предназначенное для наслаждения аудио-визуальным синтезом.

С аудио-составляющей у игры все в порядке. Композитор Дэвид Канага как всегда сделал свою работу на "отлично". С "геймплейной" и графической составляющей похуже. Что мешало разработчикам сделать мир Proteus более разнообразным, глубоким и развитым? Что мешало сделать графику менее квадратной? В результате вместо уникальной релаксационной лаборатории мы имеем милую мини-игру, которая все-же справляется со своими задачами.

"It's not even a game! You just....WALK around, you don't even use mouse buttons!"

True. But when has virtual walking ever been more meaningful?

Yes, more meaningful than Doom's twisting corridors of misery - certainly more meaningful than Dear Esther's pretty but pointless desolation. You may never press anything other than WASD, but this chunky pixel island is full of audio wonders, reactive life, and breathtaking time lapses. There's no better virtual dive into the collective unconscious than Proteus.

SPOILERS AHEAD. Not that there's any semblance of plot, but if you wish to keep your expectations in the dark.

I knew nothing about Proteus going in and intentionally stayed away from any explanation of its purpose. I was intrigued by the game's Myst-like non-direction, and wanted to figure out what I could on my own.

For a while, I wandered about this crudely pixelated and randomized island at a sluggish pace. I could sit, walk, take screenshots, and close my eyes slowly which I quickly learned was the way to quit.

I walked and walked, but didn't find much. I found what seemed like frogs that sprang musical notes with each hop. More animals that would do the same. I found one house with no entrance. That's about it.

The musical score of washy tones is decent, but I wasn't blown away by the animals trotting along with the music; we've seen music accompany actions in games like Rez and The Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker. The bright and simplistic art direction wasn't that impressive, either. While I strolled around this tiny island, I wondered if the music and graphics would gradually improve if I hit the right triggers... Maybe that was the objective. As it were, it felt like a terribly unfinished version of Skyrim.

I walked around the same dull, but admittedly tranquil island. I saw some sweeping mist and fixed myself into its pull, and raced along with it for a few seconds until it formed a swirling ring. I sat inside of it like in Journey, which I think was unnecessary. The season changed. I had another long look around and found nothing new except the seasonal aesthetic. I repeated the mist routine once more and changed the season again. And again.

And then, for some reason I was doing something I would define as hardly flying, and then the game ended as a trophy popped along with the credits.

Afterwards, I checked the trophy list and the internet to see if there was anything deeper. The trophy list seemed to make me think there was, while all online explanations of the game remarked on its interactive simplicity and pure exploratory nature- another "soothing" experience. On the game's Wikipedia page, one of the creators admitted that he was attempting to make an Elder Scrolls type game but grew discouraged and gave up. I guess I wasn't too far off.

Should Proteus be regarded as an artsy release that challenges the classifications of a video game, or should it be considered unfinished and unworthy of the fifteen dollar price tag? I feel a bit ripped off. Let's leave daring questions like, "what is a video game?" to thatgamecompany. The hoopla around Proteus should beg a different question: can the implementation of trophies turn a hardly interactive game of nothing into an exploration game with objectives?

Maybe it's just my personal associations with the pixelated view of a world full of nature and my memories of the indie scene at the time, but the first impression of Proteus is reminiscent of Minecraft. Where the world importance comes from its elements and not their particular arrangement, capable of being procedurally generated, making each particular world unique and common at the same time. The major difference, all your world changing actions are taken away. What is left is one of the most important aspects in any game, and in life, to observe. Navigating through a hypersensitive world, since observation and perception are the sole focus, everything seems to carry some life.

Observing how the world changes and how perception changes the world. Getting atop a mountain when the rain comes to see the sky again, to know what time it is, look down again to see that the land has turned into the sea, descend into it and watch how the sky is now the sea. To find comfort upon finding that this world has a moon when the night comes too. Try to find a pattern in the stars, look at the land and see that the lights are mirrored below. Discover that, same as everywhere, magic appears at night.

One of the most important moments is to stand still and observe what's out of reach. How the clouds move, how the sun goes down and how the moon rises on the opposite side. Everything is the life of nature, except for the human tombstones. Because it's about opposites too. To appear on the sea facing the land where to spend the rest of your time. To do anything but escape the cycle of day and night and then seasons and then life.

If Proteus is about life, and life is about observing, the game, of course, can only end in one way. An eye getting closed.

Proteus is the kind of game you play only once the same way and then never again, in the sense that is personal: a short, simple experience to stimulate the memories in a form of interactive deep meditation. It is leaving me with "The giving tree" vibes, the kind of simple stories which reflects more of you by consuming the piece of art and relating it to your own experiences and understandings of reality, rather that feeling the impact straight on during the said consumption.

My favorite "scene" during the gameplay is waiting for nightfall after my first day cycle there and coming up the small hill - above the clouds where all those statues are standing in an ominous circle. On top of that hill I could see the sun behind me and moon rising head on; which is funny because again Proteus is the kind of "unique" sandbox, in which every person's experience utterly intimate - for a moment I was transported back in my childhood in my days of playing minecraft and hearing the lonely music in the vast digital world. And I felt a kid again and I teared up while waiting for the night to come. It felt artistic, in a way most games aren't. And I find it ironic that i got so emotional on some random music/sounds and some pixels but that's it - the human mind can be an indescribable madness and sometimes we just connect with random moments of peace that bring us home again.

looking back 10 years after its release, it's clear that proteus possesses the bones of something beautiful, but it's not fleshed out. to be certain there is some joy to be found in this vibrant world that is so alive despite being so simple. to be honest i wasn't expecting to come out of the experience with a newfound appreciation for it, only revisiting it in preparation to to Bernband, but booting it up and visiting that island once again is like being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, a familiar and comforting feeling. along the way i kept discovering things i had forgotten, little details that on their own perhaps don't add up to much, but when taken in totality make the experience much more enjoyable than i remember. call it nostalgia, call it a change in perspective, but i think proteus is a better work than many - myself included - have given it credit for.