Awesomeness: The Game
Loved it!! I've had this game (including most of the other games in the series) since I was a kid, but I never got past the first level back then. I love the world. It's quite "odd" to say the least. The puzzles are great and when you get the hang of them, they feel so satisfying to complete. They could sometimes be annoying though, and it became frustrating to do some levels over and over again because of one tiny section that was hard to get the hang of. I love Abe and the other mudokons, they are all so adorable.

I'm not very high on cinematic platformers. Hell I find trial and error gameplay frustrating beyond belief. But for once a game with that kind of energy hooked me. The world of Abe's Odyssee is something to behold, the drop dead gorgeous pre rendered backgrounds, the atmosphere and the story is all masterfully done. Unlike most games in the genre the deaths are entirely your fault and you will learn from your mistakes. This isn't like Heart of Darkness where you die by random BS. This is the pinnacle of the genre for a reason. If you enjoy the genre or want a fantastic game to stare at this one is for you

Oddworld is one of the most artistically, narratively, and sonically beautiful, dark, funny, and mysterious game worlds ever created, and it all began here in Abe’s Oddysee, the original, iconic, first chapter in its saga.

If it weren’t for one major drawback in the gameplay department, I would genuinely consider Abe’s Oddyssey to be one of the rare examples of a truly perfect game, seeing how everything else besides this lone design oversight is masterfully executed, like a great film, lean and mean with zero fat on its bones, brilliant in its visual storytelling, filled with flawless character design, classic physical comedy (I view Abe as the Buster Keaton of gaming), and often Rube Goldberg-esque, ingenious puzzles.

That’s just it, though. Its deadly gauntlets of perfectly-timed obstacle-dodging, enemy-outsmarting ingenious puzzles can sometimes feel like they literally require you to be a genius. Now, I’m obviously aware that it’s an older game, the studio’s first attempt at a game, and, frustrating or not, young children were able to complete it at its time of release. Thus, its high difficulty is by no means an objective design flaw. It’s a deliberate design choice. However, it could certainly be a barrier to much of the game’s imaginitive and inspiring later content for someone not used to such brutally unforgiving retro game design.

If the difficulty, itself, is not its one major flaw that keeps it from being the otherwise perfect game that it could be, then what is? Well, it’s definitely Abe Odyssey’s checkpoint system. Firstly, there’s no quick save. Again, this is, in itself, not a flaw per se. However, being able to try the hellishly challenging puzzle in the room you’re in over and over until you get it right would be just fine. Some might even still give up and quit, as it would still retain each individual room’s challenge. You can’t do this. Instead, you’re often forced to also do the past 4-5 dangerous, difficult, “miss a jump by a pixel and die” puzzles in the rooms before the one you’re in if you die and it wasn’t near one of the uncharitably-placed checkpoints.

So, “Checkpoints punishing. Checkpoints bad.” That’s it? Well, no. To compound their poor implementation even further, in the original PS1 version, there is no indicator, be it visual or aural, to signal that you’ve even reached one. You have no clue where the last one you passed was (except for load screens, which one can typically assume do signal a checkpoint, but which aren’t always super frequent).

There is a “Save” option on the pause menu, but this only saves up until your last check point, meaning that if you save and turn off the game six difficult rooms after a checkpoint (and, remember, you likely won’t even know that you passed one), you’ll be brought back to wherever that mystery checkpoint was upon the next time you load your save.

I think it’s telling that the sequel to this game was not released decades later, with changes made to the checkpoint/save system in order to appeal to “babies” used to modernized game design, who know nothing of the days of “actual challenge”. Instead, the sequel to Abe’s Oddysee, Abe’s Exoddus, came out very shortly after and (what do you know!) included the ability to quicksave anywhere. Given the fact that the sequel is not notorious for being some dumbed down or overly easy entry, this can really only be interpreted as the developers, Oddworld Inhabitants, admitting that there WAS one element that wasn’t perfect in their previous work of art, and they wanted to fix it.

So, that’s why a perfect game has a big enough flaw to rob it of a perfect score from me. Thankfully, while I write and share this review to both organize my thoughts on something I love and potentially help someone who’s thinking of playing the game, it won’t be playing any part in the public opinion of the game. This game has already been long-cemented as a classic, and rightly so.

The story of Abe’s Oddysee is a tale that could easily come off as preachy, but while it is surprisingly heavy and dark, it offsets this with moments and characters that are anything but serious. In a way, this is the perfect example of a “message game” and how to do it right. It’s an admirably empathetic, but also highly critical story of greedy corporations, environmental plundering, and an obvious love for and goal of a wider-spread understanding and respect for everything from nature’s underdogs to the shamanic rituals of indigenous tribes and the overall power of myth. It posits that an epic and noble quest, the kind that can be found mirrored and shared across cultures and best summed up by Joseph Campbell as “The Hero’s Journey “, can begin within the soul of even the most unassuming of “heroes”.

Abe’s journey takes him from a cynical, vicious, mercenary world of industry and apathy into one of old, grand temples, new cultures, and strange species. There’s an unspoken emphasis on using the land while being in harmony with it (rather than striving for control over it), a connection with beasts for mutual aid, the mysterious power and magic of ancient music, and, of course, the universal, healing humor of flatulence.

The way Abe Oddysse’s checkpoints were handled is a shame, and it can sometimes make it harder to get lost in some of its puzzles, trying again and again, and happy to, due to a brain-teasing drive spurred on by fair design, rather than frustration. However, absolutely nothing in the game hinders the player’s ability to get lost in the game’s world, one that, odd as it is, often reflects our own in both ways that one may not wish to admit and ones that, in their relatable struggle and mysterious beauty, could very well inspire one to go on their own odyssey, with a newfound interest, perhaps, in researching the equally surreal creatures, ancient stories, and fascinating cultures of our own world.

To me, that’s an astounding legacy for Abe’s Oddyssey to have and one that will easily overshadow its main design issue in the long run. I can’t stress enough just how perfect of a game it would be without its lone, but significant aspect that is so often a source of frustration. Frustration does not, however, rob Abe’s Oddyssey of its timeless magic and, with what I’ve covered in mind, if you feel that you possess the expectations and patience necessary to face it, I highly recommend that you give it a play and experience the genesis of one of video games’ finest fictional realms and the debut of one of its most unlikely, but most likable heroes.