Played on default settings with Survivor.
Rain World's.. well, world, is utterly beautiful and captivating, there's something about it that strikes me as endlessly interesting with just how diverse each region is despite what could broadly be described as "post-apocalyptic industrial"; it effortlessly outclasses many in this aesthetic genre, with a sprinkling of Buddhist theming that elevates it to masterclass status in my book. It feels like a mashup of Girls Last Tour and Made in Abyss visually. I feel like this is where the intrigue for many comes in, especially in the last couple of years or so with the cutesy Slugcat fanart and gifs people love sharing around (I did so for ages before even playing), but I feel something is miscommunicated about the game from this angle by the fandom.
When people talk about a game having disregard for a player in a good way, the vast majority of the time they're talking about Demon's Souls or sometimes Dark Souls 1, or cheap shots in mostly old PC games; but these games always give the player the tools to overcome, especially the lauded Souls franchise and adjacent. Rain World does not, or at least not really; you might be given a spear, but the amount of hostile enemies you can actually kill with it? Like, two, at least somewhat reasonably. The world does not care if you wish to walk across that bridge, there is an eldrich horror larger than you could have imagined casually feasting on one of the beasts that previously demolished you. Wait... There's your chance to get past, RUN! Jump over that rock, hurry! Scurry along you silly little Slugcat and pray the monster is still engorging itself. Finally you reach the pipe, and on the other side, another beast, instantly snaps you up.
Press [start] to continue.
So you've learned something at least, about how this ecosystem interacts; but you died, despite how hard it may have been to get where you were. You can't go back though, you know it's a dead end, the worm nudges in that same direction still. You have to push on, Survivor. So you push forward again, with that depleting Karma meter you haven't payed much attention to only a couple hours in or so. You claw and climb your way through a (to you) arduous section with some beasts and perilous jumps, until you finally reach the door and shimmy through, to be met with a Karma Gate at tier 3, but alas you are only tier 1, and hungry. Time's almost up, the screen begins shaking and the sound becomes thunder, soon you're washed away into oblivion. How utterly frustrating, I thought, how could they make the player go through all of that knowing they'd likely die and be unable to get through? There's a lot of moments like this, and an area in particular that drove me insane, I constantly asked "how would I change this?", and each time I'd conclude, simply, that I wouldn't. To fix that or place that on a cycle or something rigid would defeat the purpose or at least severely crack the game's vision. To approach these challenges from the perspective of "how would I change this for the player experience" is to directly detract from the experience of the Slugcats.
This isn't about you, this is about a Slugcat which in this game no matter how good the player may be might as well be regarded as only a couple rungs above insects. The act of killing something that could also kill you is rare, and reliant on often single-use tools you happen across. You WILL be fumbling with Slugcat's movement to the very end and it's all the better for it. Why should things be easy? The decision as well to make the game fixed-screen was also massively beneficial to selling the uneasiness in a 2D space, it places extra emphasis on immersing yourself in the soundscape, listening to every little audio cue you can to clue yourself in on what's just around the corner. It also makes the game feel even larger than it already is, while still retaining measurable distance over "samey" screens such as certain waterways or long tunnels. The sound design is also masterful, and it synergizes perfectly with the visual presentation and how it impacts progression through the game.
With the Downpour DLC came a free update that optionally adds visual cues to things such as indicators for off-screen enemies and accessibility options such as an engine slowdown similar to Celeste's; I always appreciate these sorts of updates and tweaks on principle, but I would still strongly urge trying to Survive and to only tweak downwards if you're genuinely going to drop the game over these gripes. They are in my mind what makes Rain World, Rain World, but I get it.
Ultimately Rain World represents what I believe to be the most realized vision in a video game, period. Unfaltering in its indifference to the player and their usual power-trip-seeking behavior and drip feed dopamine addictions, it has a story to tell about the cutest thing in the world simply trying to reunite in an apocalyptic world, and it refuses every step of the way to fall victim to dissonance between its gameplay and its narrative.
In one word: Primordial.
Rain World's.. well, world, is utterly beautiful and captivating, there's something about it that strikes me as endlessly interesting with just how diverse each region is despite what could broadly be described as "post-apocalyptic industrial"; it effortlessly outclasses many in this aesthetic genre, with a sprinkling of Buddhist theming that elevates it to masterclass status in my book. It feels like a mashup of Girls Last Tour and Made in Abyss visually. I feel like this is where the intrigue for many comes in, especially in the last couple of years or so with the cutesy Slugcat fanart and gifs people love sharing around (I did so for ages before even playing), but I feel something is miscommunicated about the game from this angle by the fandom.
When people talk about a game having disregard for a player in a good way, the vast majority of the time they're talking about Demon's Souls or sometimes Dark Souls 1, or cheap shots in mostly old PC games; but these games always give the player the tools to overcome, especially the lauded Souls franchise and adjacent. Rain World does not, or at least not really; you might be given a spear, but the amount of hostile enemies you can actually kill with it? Like, two, at least somewhat reasonably. The world does not care if you wish to walk across that bridge, there is an eldrich horror larger than you could have imagined casually feasting on one of the beasts that previously demolished you. Wait... There's your chance to get past, RUN! Jump over that rock, hurry! Scurry along you silly little Slugcat and pray the monster is still engorging itself. Finally you reach the pipe, and on the other side, another beast, instantly snaps you up.
Press [start] to continue.
So you've learned something at least, about how this ecosystem interacts; but you died, despite how hard it may have been to get where you were. You can't go back though, you know it's a dead end, the worm nudges in that same direction still. You have to push on, Survivor. So you push forward again, with that depleting Karma meter you haven't payed much attention to only a couple hours in or so. You claw and climb your way through a (to you) arduous section with some beasts and perilous jumps, until you finally reach the door and shimmy through, to be met with a Karma Gate at tier 3, but alas you are only tier 1, and hungry. Time's almost up, the screen begins shaking and the sound becomes thunder, soon you're washed away into oblivion. How utterly frustrating, I thought, how could they make the player go through all of that knowing they'd likely die and be unable to get through? There's a lot of moments like this, and an area in particular that drove me insane, I constantly asked "how would I change this?", and each time I'd conclude, simply, that I wouldn't. To fix that or place that on a cycle or something rigid would defeat the purpose or at least severely crack the game's vision. To approach these challenges from the perspective of "how would I change this for the player experience" is to directly detract from the experience of the Slugcats.
This isn't about you, this is about a Slugcat which in this game no matter how good the player may be might as well be regarded as only a couple rungs above insects. The act of killing something that could also kill you is rare, and reliant on often single-use tools you happen across. You WILL be fumbling with Slugcat's movement to the very end and it's all the better for it. Why should things be easy? The decision as well to make the game fixed-screen was also massively beneficial to selling the uneasiness in a 2D space, it places extra emphasis on immersing yourself in the soundscape, listening to every little audio cue you can to clue yourself in on what's just around the corner. It also makes the game feel even larger than it already is, while still retaining measurable distance over "samey" screens such as certain waterways or long tunnels. The sound design is also masterful, and it synergizes perfectly with the visual presentation and how it impacts progression through the game.
With the Downpour DLC came a free update that optionally adds visual cues to things such as indicators for off-screen enemies and accessibility options such as an engine slowdown similar to Celeste's; I always appreciate these sorts of updates and tweaks on principle, but I would still strongly urge trying to Survive and to only tweak downwards if you're genuinely going to drop the game over these gripes. They are in my mind what makes Rain World, Rain World, but I get it.
Ultimately Rain World represents what I believe to be the most realized vision in a video game, period. Unfaltering in its indifference to the player and their usual power-trip-seeking behavior and drip feed dopamine addictions, it has a story to tell about the cutest thing in the world simply trying to reunite in an apocalyptic world, and it refuses every step of the way to fall victim to dissonance between its gameplay and its narrative.
In one word: Primordial.