A perfect example of a game that knows exactly what it does - and does not - need to have. There are so many games I've played that are bloated with half-baked gestures towards mechanics, purely for the sake of satisfying convention, and I couldn't count the amount of totally extraneous jump buttons I've encountered. It's really refreshing to play something that's pared back to the strengths of its premise, and the creative behind it. Those presumably self-imposed limitations - the visuals being limited to a UI and a topographical map, the comparatively tiny text boxes, the distance between the player and their actions in the world - really help slow things down, and make room for the space to be filled with that most precious of experiences in video games: contemplation.

The story unfolds steadily, and somewhat predictably. There's a degree to which it's stifled by the monologue format, and the degree to which the player has any input of expression drops off severely later in the game. It's a style of writing that grabs my attention much more in the short bursts of description and commentary you get while exploring the ocean than in the grand gestures or academic notes. 'Stuff' 'happens', but it's nothing terribly special, and doesn't need to be. More could have been done, even with the mentioned creative limitations, but what's here is easily enough to be enjoyed.

Like with many other brief, distinct titles, I really don't have any good reason not to recommend it. There's several reasons to bounce off it, sure, but it sets out to do something unique and intriguing, and it does it well.