Hey. Gonna be a lot of talking about mechanics and mechanical themes and then, right at the end: a single spoiler. Just so you know.
So. Directions have implications in video games. Go onwards, you go further from home. Downwards means to venture into increasingly hostile forces. And up? Up is special. Up is often you against the environment. Up carries the fear of falling. Up and failure are linked, the former made special by the threat of the latter.
Let's just get this out of the way: Jusant is not a bad game. Its exploratory, lore-dusted indie vibe may be well-trod but it's not worn out, its art style nothing exciting but absolutely appealing if safe. The music swells when it should swell, the camera pans to show you sweeping vistas. There is a little creature that is cute if not largely inconsequential. It's all very fine. I had a good time with it. A fair recommendation.
And yet.
Jusant may not be a bad game, but it is a bad game about going up. There is no tension, no threat. Paths are obvious, spraypainted pebble stucco and obvious handhelds. There are no false paths, no real loss of progress should you fall. You cannot die, or at least I never did. You don't need to be careful about your routing, you don't need to conserve your stamina or your rope. Progress comes easily, a rapid fluttering of the triggers more than enough to move you along 80% of the paths, a little swinging and the occasional jump serving for the rest. The climbing of Assassin's Creed, with ever-so-slightly more engagement.
The problem is that it's all been done before, better and with greater understanding of why up is special. Super Metroid's panicked escape, Getting Over It's grueling, frustrating climb making every inch of progress gained and lost felt. New Heights brings realism and tension as you path, Grow Home makes the path's evolution part of the gameplay. Jump King brings raw, breath-holding tension as you barter precision for hope. There's more, of course. No need to run down the history of it all.
Jusant is a walking simulator turned on its side. A few more buttons to press, a few more impediments. A vertical stroll and not a climb at all. Nothing wrong with that, I suppose.
And now for that spoiler.
In the end, Jusant commits the greatest sin of any game about climbing: it robs you of the summit. You end on a setpiece ride to the top. You never crest the lip. One final challenge lies before you, but that challenge feels empty now that the tower is taken from you. The finale awaits, but the core is gone.
So. Directions have implications in video games. Go onwards, you go further from home. Downwards means to venture into increasingly hostile forces. And up? Up is special. Up is often you against the environment. Up carries the fear of falling. Up and failure are linked, the former made special by the threat of the latter.
Let's just get this out of the way: Jusant is not a bad game. Its exploratory, lore-dusted indie vibe may be well-trod but it's not worn out, its art style nothing exciting but absolutely appealing if safe. The music swells when it should swell, the camera pans to show you sweeping vistas. There is a little creature that is cute if not largely inconsequential. It's all very fine. I had a good time with it. A fair recommendation.
And yet.
Jusant may not be a bad game, but it is a bad game about going up. There is no tension, no threat. Paths are obvious, spraypainted pebble stucco and obvious handhelds. There are no false paths, no real loss of progress should you fall. You cannot die, or at least I never did. You don't need to be careful about your routing, you don't need to conserve your stamina or your rope. Progress comes easily, a rapid fluttering of the triggers more than enough to move you along 80% of the paths, a little swinging and the occasional jump serving for the rest. The climbing of Assassin's Creed, with ever-so-slightly more engagement.
The problem is that it's all been done before, better and with greater understanding of why up is special. Super Metroid's panicked escape, Getting Over It's grueling, frustrating climb making every inch of progress gained and lost felt. New Heights brings realism and tension as you path, Grow Home makes the path's evolution part of the gameplay. Jump King brings raw, breath-holding tension as you barter precision for hope. There's more, of course. No need to run down the history of it all.
Jusant is a walking simulator turned on its side. A few more buttons to press, a few more impediments. A vertical stroll and not a climb at all. Nothing wrong with that, I suppose.
And now for that spoiler.
In the end, Jusant commits the greatest sin of any game about climbing: it robs you of the summit. You end on a setpiece ride to the top. You never crest the lip. One final challenge lies before you, but that challenge feels empty now that the tower is taken from you. The finale awaits, but the core is gone.