One of the many tragedies of the human condition is that before something can be thought, it must be felt. Threads of logic are usually created backwards, towards the emotionally preordained conclusion, rather than forwards to some objective truth. With that in mind, I can’t actually give any thoughts on Celeste, because I didn’t feel anything when I played it. It’s a well presented platformer and all, but I’ve played so many spike-filled indie platformers before that all I experienced was emotional detachment. I’ve played so, so many pixely indie platformers. I’ve fallen into spikes thousands of times. I’ve seen overearnest protagonists learn to believe in themselves more than could ever be counted. I’ve seen characters fight personified versions of their inner demons even more times than that. Unless this game ended up being the absolute best implementation of all these tropes, I was never going to feel anything but resignation at seeing the same old thing all over again. While this feeling could launch an argument of how Celeste treads over well-worn ground instead of doing its own thing, it’s important to recognize that this “flaw” simply won’t exist for the people without the same sort of fatigue. To anyone who hasn’t played a ton of agonizingly hard platformers, this one will feel pretty amazing, with fluid animations and a satisfying take on the standard mechanics. The main campaign introduces them all at an even clip, and the more advanced techniques can be explored in the load of optional challenges. For anyone who wants to get into the vast world of hard platformers and fangames, this would be a good place to start, but it’s impossible to impress someone who’s seen it all before.