Farmstink
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I must admit that despite its foibles, I am fascinated by Cubivore. I don’t really know what brought this on, considering that it’s a mostly forgotten about Gamecube exclusive (though interestingly, co-developed by Saru Brunei and Intelligent Systems, the latter responsible for Advance Wars and Paper Mario) that I only heard of when a guy I knew submitted a soundtrack sample from the game for a contest. It really stood out to me though, from the really quaint blocky environments and low-poly textures alongside its rather melancholic tunes and soothing ambience, to its core gameplay concept of devouring other panel monsters to evolve your protagonist and become the King of All Cubivores to restore Wilderness to the world. After finally finishing it, I’m honestly pretty impressed. Don’t get me wrong, I agree with a lot of the others here that the combat is extremely grueling, but I think that’s exactly what makes this game shine. It’s very barebones: the A button lets you both jump out of the way and pounce at enemies (depending on whether or not you’ve locked on to enemies by holding the left trigger, and letting this lock charge fully does more damage), and the B button lets you block but stops you in your tracks. Then, once you chip away all of the enemy’s health, you have to swing them around and tear off their limbs to eliminate them by furiously rotating the analog stick (which can take several tries because the timing is very tight). Combine this with the laborious task of dodging/fighting multiple enemies at once while carefully targeting the correct foes to snag the correct color upgrades from devouring foes, all while your enemies are trying to do the same to you, and you’ve got some absolutely brutal combat. It makes for these very tense moments, constantly rotating the camera due to the limited FOV and trying to read your opponent or get the jump on them while keeping an eye on your health, all so you also don’t get knocked down and devoured, and it absolutely sells its subtitle of “Survival of the Fittest.” At the same time, this further accentuates the game's contrast from any downtime spent wandering about these often peaceful and quiescent levels, really making you savor and appreciate your lingering moments of safety until you must once again, throw yourself into the breach.
That said, Cubivore does suffer from one fundamental flaw: it doesn’t do quite enough to prod the player into constantly experimenting and unlocking as many mutations as possible. You see, Cubivore’s final stage and bosses require the player to unlock at least 100 different mutations to proceed onwards after completing the third stage… but to my knowledge, it never fully tells the player that this is required, and is rather vaguely hinted at instead. The issue here is that Cubivore’s circumstances never really necessitate such a high number of mutations outside of gate-locking the final stage: there are a ton of different mechanics and traits that would take a ton of time to list, so I will simply say instead that it’s quite straightforward for players to figure out exactly what specific mutations and color-types mesh best with them, and focus on unlocking and using those forms with classic bread-and-butter combat skills to clear the levels. The alternative is gobbling up every single enemy to grab as many different color combinations as possible, but this could result in losing a valuable mutation on hand if you don’t already have it saved as an EZ-mutation (which must be unlocked from mating or from a specific number of the unlocked mutation, namely during mutations number 20, 50, 80, and 100). Personally, I was met with the pretty abrupt lock after only snagging 60 mutations myself during my first run, and was then sent back to the title screen, where I could select each of the first three stages (Piggy, Grizzly, and Chicky), and essentially had to replay them until I hit 100 mutations, which was definitely not as interesting and sapped some of my goodwill. If you don’t want to be forced to replay these stages, then you have to clear and fight enemies in a very specific manner because levels are quite linear: you can’t go back to previous segments of each stage once you move onto the next segment, enemies will never respawn until you go back to the title screen, and there are no quick checkpoints in-between the individual segments of each stage (so you won’t be able to “devolve” your character to a form with less limbs once you’re inevitably forced to mate to take down larger enemies that require nothing less than a difference of “one limb”), meaning that you can only restart stages at the very beginning. As such, this either requires previous knowledge of all the enemy traits present within a stage + meticulous planning to hit as many forms as possible, or closely following a walkthrough. The structure is definitely a bit of an impediment as a result, and I think this could have been greatly alleviated with more quality-of-life features that wouldn’t force me to constantly restart to respawn enemies for additional traits, as well as firmer messaging that would let players know outright to shoot for 100 mutations.
Regardless, I’m glad I finally got the chance to clear Cubivore. There was a really visceral satisfaction to be found from getting to the final stage and destroying all the final bosses with my now overpowered character, all from grinding out more powerful mutations and thoroughly upgrading all my stats via all the different training areas and collecting powerups along the way. Despite how unfortunately grindy it became from needing to replay levels, I do have a soft spot for these wacky yet interesting and lovable titles that were made during this era. It’s absolutely emblematic of a time when first- and third-party developers alike were readily willing to run with crazy concepts and push them to their limits. While I can’t quite say it’s worth the 400+ dollars asked for online, it’s definitely a nice little diversion that’ll get a few kicks out of you if you’re looking for something unpolished but definitely memorable.
That said, Cubivore does suffer from one fundamental flaw: it doesn’t do quite enough to prod the player into constantly experimenting and unlocking as many mutations as possible. You see, Cubivore’s final stage and bosses require the player to unlock at least 100 different mutations to proceed onwards after completing the third stage… but to my knowledge, it never fully tells the player that this is required, and is rather vaguely hinted at instead. The issue here is that Cubivore’s circumstances never really necessitate such a high number of mutations outside of gate-locking the final stage: there are a ton of different mechanics and traits that would take a ton of time to list, so I will simply say instead that it’s quite straightforward for players to figure out exactly what specific mutations and color-types mesh best with them, and focus on unlocking and using those forms with classic bread-and-butter combat skills to clear the levels. The alternative is gobbling up every single enemy to grab as many different color combinations as possible, but this could result in losing a valuable mutation on hand if you don’t already have it saved as an EZ-mutation (which must be unlocked from mating or from a specific number of the unlocked mutation, namely during mutations number 20, 50, 80, and 100). Personally, I was met with the pretty abrupt lock after only snagging 60 mutations myself during my first run, and was then sent back to the title screen, where I could select each of the first three stages (Piggy, Grizzly, and Chicky), and essentially had to replay them until I hit 100 mutations, which was definitely not as interesting and sapped some of my goodwill. If you don’t want to be forced to replay these stages, then you have to clear and fight enemies in a very specific manner because levels are quite linear: you can’t go back to previous segments of each stage once you move onto the next segment, enemies will never respawn until you go back to the title screen, and there are no quick checkpoints in-between the individual segments of each stage (so you won’t be able to “devolve” your character to a form with less limbs once you’re inevitably forced to mate to take down larger enemies that require nothing less than a difference of “one limb”), meaning that you can only restart stages at the very beginning. As such, this either requires previous knowledge of all the enemy traits present within a stage + meticulous planning to hit as many forms as possible, or closely following a walkthrough. The structure is definitely a bit of an impediment as a result, and I think this could have been greatly alleviated with more quality-of-life features that wouldn’t force me to constantly restart to respawn enemies for additional traits, as well as firmer messaging that would let players know outright to shoot for 100 mutations.
Regardless, I’m glad I finally got the chance to clear Cubivore. There was a really visceral satisfaction to be found from getting to the final stage and destroying all the final bosses with my now overpowered character, all from grinding out more powerful mutations and thoroughly upgrading all my stats via all the different training areas and collecting powerups along the way. Despite how unfortunately grindy it became from needing to replay levels, I do have a soft spot for these wacky yet interesting and lovable titles that were made during this era. It’s absolutely emblematic of a time when first- and third-party developers alike were readily willing to run with crazy concepts and push them to their limits. While I can’t quite say it’s worth the 400+ dollars asked for online, it’s definitely a nice little diversion that’ll get a few kicks out of you if you’re looking for something unpolished but definitely memorable.
Immortality
2022
Having played Her Story years ago and appreciating the concept though never really getting hooked by the story/ending, and having stayed away from Telling Lies due to bad press, I was a bit skeptical of Sam Barlow's newest title Immortality. However, I finished it earlier today, and I now think it's solid. Flawed, certainly, but I can't help but appreciate the craft.
The story goes like this: found footage of three unreleased films starring the fictional model turned actress Marissa Marcel has been recently unearthed (unreleased due to enigmatic circumstances), and it's up to you to uncover the mystery of what happened and why she disappeared. You start with a clip of a TV interview, and jump around through various clips by pausing/parsing footage and clicking on items of interest, such as the faces of those who appear and common objects. For example, clicking on a lamp in one scene may send you to another clip in another scene that has a different lamp present, clicking on water will transport you to a scene with water present, clicking on Marcel's face will transport you to another scene with her present, and so on so forth. It's an ambitious concept of scrolling through the database (as opposed to typing in keywords in Her Story), and while it seems to hasten the pace, it also introduces an element of randomness in that some scenes can only be accessed with certain objects, and you'll be transported to a random scene every time you click with no way to control the exact scene you jump to. This disjointed narrative telling, while broadening the mystery, could also potentially result in the mystery being spoiled prematurely if you accidentally bump into a crucial scene like 25% into the game and having it all not really make sense. If you're trying to collect all the scenes and see everything, this is probably more of an impediment than a boon.
Also without going into too much depth, let me give you a few pointers regarding the system that will aid the process, that I really wish I knew about before I started this up. The game's unfortunately not the best at explaining its various tools & gadgets.
- You can use the left and right arrow keys (or left and right on the d-pad if using a controller) to parse through all clickable objects of interest when the scene is paused.
- If you're using a controller, then the controller will vibrate at certain instances (or you'll be clued in on something strange going on when you notice flashes of black and white interspersed in the footage or the backing track turning "creepy"). That's your cue to parse the footage backwards at a very specific speed; on mouse and keyboard, you need to hold shift and tap the left arrow key twice, or on the controller, tap the left stick to the left twice. I won't say anymore on this.
- While paused and selecting clips, you can click on the clapperboard symbol to switch to object classification, which will give you a little subtitle for each shot indicating what category it falls under for that type of object.
Again, without going into spoiler territory, I think Immortality's strength is presenting layers of narratives and social commentary including the relationship between viewer and creator, art as a creative medium, meaning within art, and of course the norms & fads of filmmaking throughout the industry and its various eras; I won't comment too heavily upon these themes as I don't feel qualified to do so, but there is a lot to unpack between the narrative of the films themselves, the meta narrative of what happened as part of the creative process, and the meta narrative as part of the player's discovery. By instilling you, the player, as an active participant engrossed in the meta-narrative and not merely roleplaying an observer such as that in Her Story, Immortality is able to convey its thoughts and feelings in a much more direct and thought-out way; it is aware of its audience seeking meaning, and is not afraid to provoke the question of whether or not that meaning even exists in the first place. To boot, the attention to detail regarding its characterization of the common movie tropes and aesthetics of each era are definitely on point, down to the grainy film textures and static background buzzing in some cases, and I found the acting, especially that by lead actress Manon Gage, to be quite convincing.
While its main draw via its structure and formula is also most likely its biggest issue due to its variability, and potentially leading to tedium through constant, repetitive searching or early disappointment if key moments are brought up too early, it's nevertheless an ambitious and more realized work than Her Story and a fantastic example of how interactive media can convey a wide range of emotions in ways that are simply not possible in more static mediums such as books and films. Give this a shot if you're looking for an engrossing mystery with plenty of twists and turns to be uncovered by the player, and be prepared to experience a wide variety of emotions. I will say this is not for the faint of heart (despite having nothing I would consider a "jumpscare") but if you give it a chance, then perhaps Sam Barlow's latest thriller may give you quite a ride.
The story goes like this: found footage of three unreleased films starring the fictional model turned actress Marissa Marcel has been recently unearthed (unreleased due to enigmatic circumstances), and it's up to you to uncover the mystery of what happened and why she disappeared. You start with a clip of a TV interview, and jump around through various clips by pausing/parsing footage and clicking on items of interest, such as the faces of those who appear and common objects. For example, clicking on a lamp in one scene may send you to another clip in another scene that has a different lamp present, clicking on water will transport you to a scene with water present, clicking on Marcel's face will transport you to another scene with her present, and so on so forth. It's an ambitious concept of scrolling through the database (as opposed to typing in keywords in Her Story), and while it seems to hasten the pace, it also introduces an element of randomness in that some scenes can only be accessed with certain objects, and you'll be transported to a random scene every time you click with no way to control the exact scene you jump to. This disjointed narrative telling, while broadening the mystery, could also potentially result in the mystery being spoiled prematurely if you accidentally bump into a crucial scene like 25% into the game and having it all not really make sense. If you're trying to collect all the scenes and see everything, this is probably more of an impediment than a boon.
Also without going into too much depth, let me give you a few pointers regarding the system that will aid the process, that I really wish I knew about before I started this up. The game's unfortunately not the best at explaining its various tools & gadgets.
- You can use the left and right arrow keys (or left and right on the d-pad if using a controller) to parse through all clickable objects of interest when the scene is paused.
- If you're using a controller, then the controller will vibrate at certain instances (or you'll be clued in on something strange going on when you notice flashes of black and white interspersed in the footage or the backing track turning "creepy"). That's your cue to parse the footage backwards at a very specific speed; on mouse and keyboard, you need to hold shift and tap the left arrow key twice, or on the controller, tap the left stick to the left twice. I won't say anymore on this.
- While paused and selecting clips, you can click on the clapperboard symbol to switch to object classification, which will give you a little subtitle for each shot indicating what category it falls under for that type of object.
Again, without going into spoiler territory, I think Immortality's strength is presenting layers of narratives and social commentary including the relationship between viewer and creator, art as a creative medium, meaning within art, and of course the norms & fads of filmmaking throughout the industry and its various eras; I won't comment too heavily upon these themes as I don't feel qualified to do so, but there is a lot to unpack between the narrative of the films themselves, the meta narrative of what happened as part of the creative process, and the meta narrative as part of the player's discovery. By instilling you, the player, as an active participant engrossed in the meta-narrative and not merely roleplaying an observer such as that in Her Story, Immortality is able to convey its thoughts and feelings in a much more direct and thought-out way; it is aware of its audience seeking meaning, and is not afraid to provoke the question of whether or not that meaning even exists in the first place. To boot, the attention to detail regarding its characterization of the common movie tropes and aesthetics of each era are definitely on point, down to the grainy film textures and static background buzzing in some cases, and I found the acting, especially that by lead actress Manon Gage, to be quite convincing.
While its main draw via its structure and formula is also most likely its biggest issue due to its variability, and potentially leading to tedium through constant, repetitive searching or early disappointment if key moments are brought up too early, it's nevertheless an ambitious and more realized work than Her Story and a fantastic example of how interactive media can convey a wide range of emotions in ways that are simply not possible in more static mediums such as books and films. Give this a shot if you're looking for an engrossing mystery with plenty of twists and turns to be uncovered by the player, and be prepared to experience a wide variety of emotions. I will say this is not for the faint of heart (despite having nothing I would consider a "jumpscare") but if you give it a chance, then perhaps Sam Barlow's latest thriller may give you quite a ride.
Saints Row
2022
this game is bad and was made by overworked oompa loompas withdrawing from an obscene booger and ant smoothie addiction, would rather sit on a cactus then play this. actually no i wouldnt that would hurt but hopefully this literary device i used in this written review conveys the poor quality of another one of aaa's modern attempts of stealing $60 and using that money to wipe their asses with
This review contains spoilers
There is something to be said about the inevitability of the human spirit. Through many trials and much toil, humanity continues to persist against all odds, always finding a way to forge a new destiny and strive to maintain continuous progress. But what happens when humanity goes too far? How will we know that we’ve gone astray? And when will it finally be time to stop pretending that we’re certain of our path forward regardless of all that we’ve done?
Those were some of the questions I sought to answer upon my replay of Shadow of the Colossus. Six months after finishing it last Christmas day, I still couldn’t get my experience out of my head; it felt like a product of its time and yet simultaneously felt so ahead of its time. I suppose there’s a part of me that’s drawn towards the quirky, the interesting, and the compelling, and for some reason I remember Shadow of the Colossus checking off all three boxes. Thus, I decided to give the old classic another go, and hopefully do it justice this time expressing my sentiments with more than one word.
It goes something like this; a hawk soars into a dark canyon while a lone young man and his horse companion trod onto a long, lonely bridge, slowly making their way through a quiet yet dignified tower. There in the shrine, he puts the body of his loved one to rest, and hears the voice of a foreign entity, offering him a deal; in exchange for taking down sixteen colossi across the land, his lover shall be revived and brought back to him. So, the young man (aptly named Wander), makes his way through this still yet sprawling land in hopes of fulfilling his duty, wherever it shall take him.
Most action-adventure games present themselves as this glorious epic where the young, up and coming hero strives against his inexperience and fears to conquer the unknown, slay hordes of monsters and tear down obstacles in his way, and upon having slew the scheming and conniving big bad bringing despair to all, returns home triumphantly to confetti and fanfare as a hero’s welcome. Shadow of the Colossus stands starkly to this idea; as I made my way across this foreboding territory, I was greeted with… nothing. There are ruins of a once glorious civilization scattered throughout this forsaken land where the wild has reclaimed its bounty, with no other visible records to be found. Aside from fruit trees and blue tailed salamanders to collect at shrines serving as save points, there is virtually no other interaction to be found in this world. There’s no triumphant and exciting overworld music to be found, just the stillness of the wind and the echoes of the forest. Forget what you know about emptiness regarding other video game worlds; aside from the aforementioned salamanders and a few turtles and fish here and there, I and my horse companion (Agro) were genuinely alone. The bare walls and isolated plains of the forbidden wild perhaps have millennia of stories to be told, but they were not for me; I don’t belong in this place, and I never would. Yet, here I was, a boy on his horse aiming to change the course of history by eliminating the other sixteen dignified inhabitants of this lonely land. And who exactly decided I was to be the arbiter of this sealed off earth?
I slowly make my way up the cliffs across from the shrine to come across this magnificent and imposing creature, just sauntering its way across the empty landscape. There’s this subtle yet growing sensation that I’ve stumbled upon something that will change my life forever. I creep behind what I refer to as “the hulking beast” and find its weakness; close to the beast’s ankle, a crack glows blue. I latch onto the fur and stab the crack for all it’s worth. By now it’s noticed me, but it’s too late. The beast falters, and I take this time to scale its back; as it stands back up, I clutch onto the top of its head and repeatedly plunge my sword into its temple as it writhes in fear and agony. A sense of finality looms in the air as the beast takes its final blow, leans back slowly, and collapses upon the earth, never to rise again. I am almost immediately injected with these black-blue ribbons spewing out of the fallen colossus, with no time to admire my handiwork or ponder the consequences of my actions, and black out.
I’m not sure if I would say the going got harder from there, but it most certainly got rougher. I and Agro would make our way through endless placid landscapes to finally encounter once tranquil, dignified colossi that for all I know were just living day by day in this abandoned universe. I would need every advantage I could get; I was but an ant with a stick and a sling against these glorious beasts that were the size of a small building. Many of these colossi are capable of taking me out with a few fell blows, and my equipment much less my physique could not hope to win in one on one open combat; I needed every advantage I could get, and the designers did a magnificent job sneaking in subtle hints of how to manipulate both the colossi and their surrounding environments to target and exploit their weaknesses, whether it be from their visible characteristics, the glowing blue cracks and sigils revealed with the sword, or from the colossi’s behavior themselves and clues given via descriptions from the echoing voice. There’s this constant sense of fragility as I ascended the features of each colossi; I was limited by my stamina which gets sapped every time I clung, jumped, and climbed to find the vitals and avoid being toppled by sudden movements. I’ll also mention that while it took some time to get used to the camera and seemingly strange controls, I ultimately did not mind them in the scope of the overall experience; fighting the colossi is meant to be this untamed, frenzied experience meant to instill apprehension into the player, as this fight between the lives of strangers, much less life and death.
And that’s where Shadow of the Colossus really excels: bringing this complex emotional rush to the player as they discover, slay, and exit the lives of the colossi scattered across the land. Every colossus has their own approaches, their own quirks, and their own story to tell as you seek to justify the means with your ends. I had never felt so small and insignificant as Gaius loomed over me, sauntering their way and pulling back the sword to slam upon my intrusive presence. I had never felt so desperate and powerless as when I was clasping onto Avion’s wings, soaring through the skies with the currents rushing around me as I tensed up trying not to fall off for the fifth time as Avion barreled its way over the lake. And I had never felt such primal fear as Dirge tunneled at me with those unmoving eyes, seeking to devour my very soul as Agro & I galloped away, doing whatever we could to avoid a fate in the belly of the beast. Every fight felt completely different in both the actions taken and the emotions spilled across; I am not sure if there is glory to be found in battle, but there are certainly moments that I will never forget.
I’ve referenced the soundtrack numerous times at this point but I don’t think I see it talked about enough here, so I’ll talk about the soundtrack as a microcosm in the context of the overall scope for a bit. Kow Otani and the orchestra do an incredible job intensifying moods with its shifts in the background tracks, allowing you to associate each track with different moments. I’ve already spoken about the quietude that comes with traversing the forbidden land and its many artifacts; there’s no epic adventure theme to be found here, because you’re not supposed to be here in the first place conducting this taboo ritual. As a result, there’s this break between your moments of reflection whenever you do stumble upon the resting places of colossi that the beams of light from your sword have brought you towards. These foreboding ambient themes that begin playing, such as the curiously named “Silence”, seem to highlight this feeling of anticipation and tension that begins to build upon your discovery. Once this short lived peace is broken down, the soundtrack transitions into full blown battle tracks, often with shifts in the track selection themselves as you progress to another “phase” by exposing or gaining access to a colossi’s weakness. I could go on and on about how I got this exhilarating rush when Dirge’s chase theme transitioned right into “Counterattack” as Dirge, suddenly blinded by my arrow, crashed into a wall, giving me the chance to leap from Agro onto its exposed back, or how my initial intimidation upon stumbling into Quadratus suddenly tearing down the cliff cave walls transformed into the rising orchestral melody of “Revived Power”, pushing me forward with this feeling that I couldn’t fail now when I had come so far. The songs perfectly emphasize and capture the moods that I felt fighting these complex creatures of habit, and only served to further accentuate their struggles and personalities. Truly, it was one for the books, this song & dance between an unwilling participant and an uncertain instigator.
I think it’s also interesting how the songs on the soundtrack also reflect this paradigm shift as you continue to fell colossus after colossus in your quest. “In Awe of the Power” begins perhaps as this frame to signify how the looming Gaius, with its thundering steps as it slowly approaches you, towers and threatens to snuff out your very existence. You can’t even attack any weaknesses off the bat compared to the last two colossi; you have to wait until Gaius attempts to slam its sword upon you and crack its own armor upon the solid pedestal in the middle of the arena. Compare this to the last time that "In Awe of the Power" plays, during the late game fight versus Phalanx. Phalanx is notable in that it never attempts to directly harm the player; it’s just this majestic snake-like creature flying in the desert sky that happened to become the player’s next bounty. Even when the player ascends onto Phalanx’s body, all Phalanx can do is attempt to slowly barrel roll to try and throw off the player and bury itself back into the sand to regain the use of its air sacs. Thus, my interpretation here is that somewhere along the lines, the prey has become the predator and the predator has become the prey; you’ve transformed from this greenhorn to this grizzled and weary veteran monster hunter, and it is in fact the colossi themselves that shudder in fear as you ascend their bodies, seeking to terminate their once peaceful and storied lives. Similarly, “The Opened Way” is considered to be one of the most emblematic themes of the game in that it is the first “success” theme that plays as you topple the first colossus, Valus, and climb onto its head. There’s this feeling of anxiety yet triumph as you taste your first morsels of progress as the beginning of what will be a long and memorable journey to revive your loved one; maybe all of this will be possible and worth it after all. It’s also one of the last battle themes to play, as you disarm the fifteenth colossus, Argus, of its glove after stabbing the vital on the back of its right arm. By the time you’ve gotten this far, there’s little left for you to finish off in this much emptier world as Argus desperately tries to fend you off with what little energy it has remaining. You’ve long decided your fate and the fate of the colossi by now; in a sense, the opened way has closed.
This paradigm shift becomes even more evident as you approach the final colossus, Malus. Agro is gone, having sacrificed herself leaping over a canyon bridge to bring Wander to his final destination. The air around you tingles with gloom as storm clouds blacken the sky and torrents pour upon the lonely earth. There’s no uplifting, upbeat final boss music to be found here; "Demise of the Ritual" is a lament for all that has happened and all that could have been as I trudged my way through tunnels and barriers, dodging the desperate energy shots of Malus in a last ditch attempt to avenge its family. And as I scaled Malus, all Malus could do was give me this curious and troubled stare after I stabbed its hand to ascend to its vital on top of its head like it was just another day at the office. The colossi can’t speak of course, but I’ve wondered for a while what it would say if it had a voice. “What brought you this far, little man? How and why did you take down all fifteen of my siblings and make it here in one piece? What will become of you, and what will become of me?”
At the end of the day, I’m left uncertain as to if there really was a big bad to be found in all of this. The colossi certainly didn’t do anything wrong, simply choosing to exist as peaceful beings in a forbidden land, left undisturbed for perhaps eons. Dormin kept their end of the bargain and revived Mono as promised even after Dormin no longer needed Wander. Emon was right that Dormin presented a threat having done something so sacrilegious as to disturb the natural order of the land practically overnight, even as rueful as he was that Wander would remain embedded in the forsaken land for eternity. And Wander… perhaps he was misguided from the start, trying to alter the game of fate as is, but I suppose grief and desperation drive us to consider the unfathomable, going as far to defy human nature itself. Or perhaps it is simply inherent in human nature to begin with to defy our limitations, simply because we can and because we believe in doing what we think is right even if we may not truly be sure of what lies ahead of us as the light at the end of the tunnel.
So as Emon takes his departure and Dormin is exorcised once again, we are left with those who remain. Wander’s lover, Mono, finally awakens and finds only a limping Agro and an infant child with horns as a reminder of the events of the game. The bridge connecting the shrine with the outside world has collapsed as Emon takes his final glance at the ruins, and our heroes’ fate is uncertain. And yet, there is a glimpse of hope; as Mono makes her way to the courtyard, she encounters the rays of the sun for the first time in perhaps many years, and sights a curious deer admiring the newborn infant. And as the hawk ascends once more into the skies beyond the forsaken land, bookending this tragic and thoughtful tale while the credits wrap up, I’m reminded once again why I admired this game so much to begin with as I lean back in my chair, contemplative and stupefied that such an intricate work was ever conceived in the first place.
I don't think my questions were ever answered really, nor if they ever will be. But I’d like to quote Anton Chekhov here, as presumptuous as that may sound comparing a video game to one of the most storied authors in history: “The role of the artist is to ask questions, not answer them.” Perhaps that is why I continue to play video games, to immerse myself with more stories and pass those stories along, to feel something different, to genuinely believe in the power of this medium. I spoke with my mom about my thoughts and feelings regarding Shadow of the Colossus last night, and she advised that I search for more games that inspired me the same way that this did. I’m not sure if I’ve found any that even come close to achieving Fumito Ueda’s vision all those years ago, but I’ll keep searching, and I’ll certainly be back next year.
I don’t think Shadow of the Colossus is a game for everyone. But I do think that everyone should experience Shadow of the Colossus in their lifetime.
Those were some of the questions I sought to answer upon my replay of Shadow of the Colossus. Six months after finishing it last Christmas day, I still couldn’t get my experience out of my head; it felt like a product of its time and yet simultaneously felt so ahead of its time. I suppose there’s a part of me that’s drawn towards the quirky, the interesting, and the compelling, and for some reason I remember Shadow of the Colossus checking off all three boxes. Thus, I decided to give the old classic another go, and hopefully do it justice this time expressing my sentiments with more than one word.
It goes something like this; a hawk soars into a dark canyon while a lone young man and his horse companion trod onto a long, lonely bridge, slowly making their way through a quiet yet dignified tower. There in the shrine, he puts the body of his loved one to rest, and hears the voice of a foreign entity, offering him a deal; in exchange for taking down sixteen colossi across the land, his lover shall be revived and brought back to him. So, the young man (aptly named Wander), makes his way through this still yet sprawling land in hopes of fulfilling his duty, wherever it shall take him.
Most action-adventure games present themselves as this glorious epic where the young, up and coming hero strives against his inexperience and fears to conquer the unknown, slay hordes of monsters and tear down obstacles in his way, and upon having slew the scheming and conniving big bad bringing despair to all, returns home triumphantly to confetti and fanfare as a hero’s welcome. Shadow of the Colossus stands starkly to this idea; as I made my way across this foreboding territory, I was greeted with… nothing. There are ruins of a once glorious civilization scattered throughout this forsaken land where the wild has reclaimed its bounty, with no other visible records to be found. Aside from fruit trees and blue tailed salamanders to collect at shrines serving as save points, there is virtually no other interaction to be found in this world. There’s no triumphant and exciting overworld music to be found, just the stillness of the wind and the echoes of the forest. Forget what you know about emptiness regarding other video game worlds; aside from the aforementioned salamanders and a few turtles and fish here and there, I and my horse companion (Agro) were genuinely alone. The bare walls and isolated plains of the forbidden wild perhaps have millennia of stories to be told, but they were not for me; I don’t belong in this place, and I never would. Yet, here I was, a boy on his horse aiming to change the course of history by eliminating the other sixteen dignified inhabitants of this lonely land. And who exactly decided I was to be the arbiter of this sealed off earth?
I slowly make my way up the cliffs across from the shrine to come across this magnificent and imposing creature, just sauntering its way across the empty landscape. There’s this subtle yet growing sensation that I’ve stumbled upon something that will change my life forever. I creep behind what I refer to as “the hulking beast” and find its weakness; close to the beast’s ankle, a crack glows blue. I latch onto the fur and stab the crack for all it’s worth. By now it’s noticed me, but it’s too late. The beast falters, and I take this time to scale its back; as it stands back up, I clutch onto the top of its head and repeatedly plunge my sword into its temple as it writhes in fear and agony. A sense of finality looms in the air as the beast takes its final blow, leans back slowly, and collapses upon the earth, never to rise again. I am almost immediately injected with these black-blue ribbons spewing out of the fallen colossus, with no time to admire my handiwork or ponder the consequences of my actions, and black out.
I’m not sure if I would say the going got harder from there, but it most certainly got rougher. I and Agro would make our way through endless placid landscapes to finally encounter once tranquil, dignified colossi that for all I know were just living day by day in this abandoned universe. I would need every advantage I could get; I was but an ant with a stick and a sling against these glorious beasts that were the size of a small building. Many of these colossi are capable of taking me out with a few fell blows, and my equipment much less my physique could not hope to win in one on one open combat; I needed every advantage I could get, and the designers did a magnificent job sneaking in subtle hints of how to manipulate both the colossi and their surrounding environments to target and exploit their weaknesses, whether it be from their visible characteristics, the glowing blue cracks and sigils revealed with the sword, or from the colossi’s behavior themselves and clues given via descriptions from the echoing voice. There’s this constant sense of fragility as I ascended the features of each colossi; I was limited by my stamina which gets sapped every time I clung, jumped, and climbed to find the vitals and avoid being toppled by sudden movements. I’ll also mention that while it took some time to get used to the camera and seemingly strange controls, I ultimately did not mind them in the scope of the overall experience; fighting the colossi is meant to be this untamed, frenzied experience meant to instill apprehension into the player, as this fight between the lives of strangers, much less life and death.
And that’s where Shadow of the Colossus really excels: bringing this complex emotional rush to the player as they discover, slay, and exit the lives of the colossi scattered across the land. Every colossus has their own approaches, their own quirks, and their own story to tell as you seek to justify the means with your ends. I had never felt so small and insignificant as Gaius loomed over me, sauntering their way and pulling back the sword to slam upon my intrusive presence. I had never felt so desperate and powerless as when I was clasping onto Avion’s wings, soaring through the skies with the currents rushing around me as I tensed up trying not to fall off for the fifth time as Avion barreled its way over the lake. And I had never felt such primal fear as Dirge tunneled at me with those unmoving eyes, seeking to devour my very soul as Agro & I galloped away, doing whatever we could to avoid a fate in the belly of the beast. Every fight felt completely different in both the actions taken and the emotions spilled across; I am not sure if there is glory to be found in battle, but there are certainly moments that I will never forget.
I’ve referenced the soundtrack numerous times at this point but I don’t think I see it talked about enough here, so I’ll talk about the soundtrack as a microcosm in the context of the overall scope for a bit. Kow Otani and the orchestra do an incredible job intensifying moods with its shifts in the background tracks, allowing you to associate each track with different moments. I’ve already spoken about the quietude that comes with traversing the forbidden land and its many artifacts; there’s no epic adventure theme to be found here, because you’re not supposed to be here in the first place conducting this taboo ritual. As a result, there’s this break between your moments of reflection whenever you do stumble upon the resting places of colossi that the beams of light from your sword have brought you towards. These foreboding ambient themes that begin playing, such as the curiously named “Silence”, seem to highlight this feeling of anticipation and tension that begins to build upon your discovery. Once this short lived peace is broken down, the soundtrack transitions into full blown battle tracks, often with shifts in the track selection themselves as you progress to another “phase” by exposing or gaining access to a colossi’s weakness. I could go on and on about how I got this exhilarating rush when Dirge’s chase theme transitioned right into “Counterattack” as Dirge, suddenly blinded by my arrow, crashed into a wall, giving me the chance to leap from Agro onto its exposed back, or how my initial intimidation upon stumbling into Quadratus suddenly tearing down the cliff cave walls transformed into the rising orchestral melody of “Revived Power”, pushing me forward with this feeling that I couldn’t fail now when I had come so far. The songs perfectly emphasize and capture the moods that I felt fighting these complex creatures of habit, and only served to further accentuate their struggles and personalities. Truly, it was one for the books, this song & dance between an unwilling participant and an uncertain instigator.
I think it’s also interesting how the songs on the soundtrack also reflect this paradigm shift as you continue to fell colossus after colossus in your quest. “In Awe of the Power” begins perhaps as this frame to signify how the looming Gaius, with its thundering steps as it slowly approaches you, towers and threatens to snuff out your very existence. You can’t even attack any weaknesses off the bat compared to the last two colossi; you have to wait until Gaius attempts to slam its sword upon you and crack its own armor upon the solid pedestal in the middle of the arena. Compare this to the last time that "In Awe of the Power" plays, during the late game fight versus Phalanx. Phalanx is notable in that it never attempts to directly harm the player; it’s just this majestic snake-like creature flying in the desert sky that happened to become the player’s next bounty. Even when the player ascends onto Phalanx’s body, all Phalanx can do is attempt to slowly barrel roll to try and throw off the player and bury itself back into the sand to regain the use of its air sacs. Thus, my interpretation here is that somewhere along the lines, the prey has become the predator and the predator has become the prey; you’ve transformed from this greenhorn to this grizzled and weary veteran monster hunter, and it is in fact the colossi themselves that shudder in fear as you ascend their bodies, seeking to terminate their once peaceful and storied lives. Similarly, “The Opened Way” is considered to be one of the most emblematic themes of the game in that it is the first “success” theme that plays as you topple the first colossus, Valus, and climb onto its head. There’s this feeling of anxiety yet triumph as you taste your first morsels of progress as the beginning of what will be a long and memorable journey to revive your loved one; maybe all of this will be possible and worth it after all. It’s also one of the last battle themes to play, as you disarm the fifteenth colossus, Argus, of its glove after stabbing the vital on the back of its right arm. By the time you’ve gotten this far, there’s little left for you to finish off in this much emptier world as Argus desperately tries to fend you off with what little energy it has remaining. You’ve long decided your fate and the fate of the colossi by now; in a sense, the opened way has closed.
This paradigm shift becomes even more evident as you approach the final colossus, Malus. Agro is gone, having sacrificed herself leaping over a canyon bridge to bring Wander to his final destination. The air around you tingles with gloom as storm clouds blacken the sky and torrents pour upon the lonely earth. There’s no uplifting, upbeat final boss music to be found here; "Demise of the Ritual" is a lament for all that has happened and all that could have been as I trudged my way through tunnels and barriers, dodging the desperate energy shots of Malus in a last ditch attempt to avenge its family. And as I scaled Malus, all Malus could do was give me this curious and troubled stare after I stabbed its hand to ascend to its vital on top of its head like it was just another day at the office. The colossi can’t speak of course, but I’ve wondered for a while what it would say if it had a voice. “What brought you this far, little man? How and why did you take down all fifteen of my siblings and make it here in one piece? What will become of you, and what will become of me?”
At the end of the day, I’m left uncertain as to if there really was a big bad to be found in all of this. The colossi certainly didn’t do anything wrong, simply choosing to exist as peaceful beings in a forbidden land, left undisturbed for perhaps eons. Dormin kept their end of the bargain and revived Mono as promised even after Dormin no longer needed Wander. Emon was right that Dormin presented a threat having done something so sacrilegious as to disturb the natural order of the land practically overnight, even as rueful as he was that Wander would remain embedded in the forsaken land for eternity. And Wander… perhaps he was misguided from the start, trying to alter the game of fate as is, but I suppose grief and desperation drive us to consider the unfathomable, going as far to defy human nature itself. Or perhaps it is simply inherent in human nature to begin with to defy our limitations, simply because we can and because we believe in doing what we think is right even if we may not truly be sure of what lies ahead of us as the light at the end of the tunnel.
So as Emon takes his departure and Dormin is exorcised once again, we are left with those who remain. Wander’s lover, Mono, finally awakens and finds only a limping Agro and an infant child with horns as a reminder of the events of the game. The bridge connecting the shrine with the outside world has collapsed as Emon takes his final glance at the ruins, and our heroes’ fate is uncertain. And yet, there is a glimpse of hope; as Mono makes her way to the courtyard, she encounters the rays of the sun for the first time in perhaps many years, and sights a curious deer admiring the newborn infant. And as the hawk ascends once more into the skies beyond the forsaken land, bookending this tragic and thoughtful tale while the credits wrap up, I’m reminded once again why I admired this game so much to begin with as I lean back in my chair, contemplative and stupefied that such an intricate work was ever conceived in the first place.
I don't think my questions were ever answered really, nor if they ever will be. But I’d like to quote Anton Chekhov here, as presumptuous as that may sound comparing a video game to one of the most storied authors in history: “The role of the artist is to ask questions, not answer them.” Perhaps that is why I continue to play video games, to immerse myself with more stories and pass those stories along, to feel something different, to genuinely believe in the power of this medium. I spoke with my mom about my thoughts and feelings regarding Shadow of the Colossus last night, and she advised that I search for more games that inspired me the same way that this did. I’m not sure if I’ve found any that even come close to achieving Fumito Ueda’s vision all those years ago, but I’ll keep searching, and I’ll certainly be back next year.
I don’t think Shadow of the Colossus is a game for everyone. But I do think that everyone should experience Shadow of the Colossus in their lifetime.
The Wonderful 101
2013
I think I can guess why they call it "The Wonderful 101"—it's because you're guaranteed to fall asleep at least 101 times while playing this game. Talk about a snooze fest! For a second, maybe 12 hours in, I thought I had gotten to the "good" part of this game. Turns out I had just nodded off and was dreaming about playing a better game. If I was at the ESRB, I wouldnt rate it T for teen, I'd rate it "Z", for "Zzz zzz I'm falling asleep this game is so boring."
I'd reccomend Viewtiful Joe to anyone who is having some trouble sleeping, especially if something like Ambien isn't working. If the pitch drop experiment stream is a little too stimulating for you, this game will help you take the express train to snooze town. Sometimes kids try to pull "all-nighters," where you stay up all night to play a fun video game or study for a test. This game is an "all-dayer" where if you play it you'll be so bored you accidentally sleep all day. 3/9, the soundtrack was ok.
I'd reccomend Viewtiful Joe to anyone who is having some trouble sleeping, especially if something like Ambien isn't working. If the pitch drop experiment stream is a little too stimulating for you, this game will help you take the express train to snooze town. Sometimes kids try to pull "all-nighters," where you stay up all night to play a fun video game or study for a test. This game is an "all-dayer" where if you play it you'll be so bored you accidentally sleep all day. 3/9, the soundtrack was ok.
Game Dev Tycoon
2012
In the battle between Game Dev Story and Game Dev Tycoon, I think GDT comes out on top. They're fairly similar and both very simple. However, GDT's absurd amount of topics to choose from when making a game really helps it feel like your choice matters there, and the use of sliders over choosing an individual employee for each stage of production aids in making you feel more like a studio of workers and less like you're just picking the guys with the best stats every time (even though you still kind of do? I didn't and was successful, but my friend did and he beat my score by 20 million points so...).
There are some areas where the game falls flat. Only six genres feels a little lacking, although you do eventually gain the ability to double-up on genres which opens for a bit more experimentation. Not having a yearly Game Awards to judge how you're doing against other developers was a bit disappointing, as gunning for GOTY in GDS was always my favorite part. GDS also created a more filled out world, as silly as it sounds. Having news reports of crazy characters to hire like a pro wrestler or a bear was really fun. GDT has none of that, and the only pop-ups you get are for new consoles or for Game Hero to tell you your game was ass when everyone else gave it 10s.
Game Dev Tycoon is definitely a step in the right direction for a game dev simulator, but I'd be lying if I said anything other than "5/10. Looking forward to the sequel!"
There are some areas where the game falls flat. Only six genres feels a little lacking, although you do eventually gain the ability to double-up on genres which opens for a bit more experimentation. Not having a yearly Game Awards to judge how you're doing against other developers was a bit disappointing, as gunning for GOTY in GDS was always my favorite part. GDS also created a more filled out world, as silly as it sounds. Having news reports of crazy characters to hire like a pro wrestler or a bear was really fun. GDT has none of that, and the only pop-ups you get are for new consoles or for Game Hero to tell you your game was ass when everyone else gave it 10s.
Game Dev Tycoon is definitely a step in the right direction for a game dev simulator, but I'd be lying if I said anything other than "5/10. Looking forward to the sequel!"
Death's Door
2021
Death's Door is a pretty little game. It's really short (I beat it in about 5.5-6 hours) and mostly pretty easy. The puzzles and combat are, for the most part, not at all challenging. The combat is mostly a button masher where sometimes you'll decide to use your ranged attack because it's been a while. The hookshot shows some promise of depth to combat but by the time you get it the game is already over so the use is moot. The game really only shines during the final boss fight, which is a shame because it makes me wish the rest of the game were nearly as fun. The visuals and music are amazing and basically saved this game for me. It would be really dull without those, I think. The biggest issue I had with the game was the strange tonal dissonance. The music and locales and story were all very somber and lonely, but most interactions with other characters had a jokey tone like something out of A Hat In Time. It felt very obnoxious to have the game seem to be afraid to take itself seriously, especially at times where it may have actually made the player feel something. Still, I'm a sucker for the music, visuals, birds, short games, and killer finales, so Death's Door still had something to offer.
A prime example of a game feeling like more than the sum of its parts. There's a lot that feels dated about this game, and a lot to dislike, but it still has a certain charm to it that made me want to finish it out. The combat mechanics are passable but get overused in boring combat rooms that are unnatural looking and apparent as soon as you walk into them. There's some variation added at the very end of the game which is nice but it's too little too late for how much combat there is in the game. The exploration and climbing is fine, and probably the best part of the gameplay even though it's been done better since. The puzzles are very basic but do enough to be a change of pace and add to the vibe the game's going for. The story really isn't anything special either, it's like a trope-filled mix of indiana jones and national treasure, but it was still fun enough to want to see it through. I will commend how the major twist is handled. I was spoiled on it beforehand but still enjoyed the execution of it a lot. Very interested to see how they polish this formula in the later games and see if they live up to the hype.
"I often think about that old metaphor, the one that says we are all islands on a wide sea. Especially these days, now that things are more difficult than before and the world appears to be harsher than we once imagined it to be. We are all like islands, the philosopher said. Perhaps it's true. Yet I cannot help but remember an older saying, scratched on a cave wall somewhere by a long-forgotten prophet: in the end, the sea will claim everything."
If you've read any of my recent reviews lately, you might be able to tell that I've sort of been in a pickle. I've felt a bit restless yet exhausted trying out different things only for nothing to seemingly stick; Deus Ex is always just a bit too much for my tired mind after a long day at work (and I suck at stealth), Skies of Arcadia looks and sounds so cool but right now it feels a bit too drawn-out for my fickle being, Muv-Luv is filled with these loud characters that seem to just act at their own whim, the older Ys games I've tried have been pretty fun but haven't lived up to Origin or Lacrimosa of Dana, and party game weekend was lightning in a bottle that quite frankly, I'm not sure I really ever want to go through or attempt to capture again. And it makes me wonder, where I went wrong to make gaming feel less like a hobby and more like a chore. But playing through Root Film recently got me thinking that maybe, I should just go back to the classics for a bit.
I don't usually take the time to replay older games I've enjoyed. My backlog is bursting with titles (and only gets larger when my friends dig up yet another dusty title that they played back in the day), and I'd like to think I'm past those days of mindlessly comboing CPUs in Rivals of Aether to instrumental music. And even if I were to revisit some favorites, point and clicks don't tend to fall on that list; they're great for a quick fix of adventure and simple puzzle solving, and you move on with your day, never to play it again because you've seen it all. That said, The Sea Will Claim Everything continues to stand out in my memory, so... why not revisit it to find out why?
This is probably one of the harder reviews that I have had to write; I can usually pin down exactly why I like or dislike certain games due to specific gameplay elements and features, and as such most of my reviews tend to be more mechanically focused. But how do you even begin describing a game like The Sea Will Claim Everything? It is about as barebones as a point and click adventure game can get. There's no dragging items to and from an inventory for interaction; the usual motley of "verbs" for interacting with objects have been replaced with 4 buttons describing the human senses. Most of the game involves clicking and reading text with no voice acting or animations, and many of the "puzzles" could be simplified as straight fetch quests. And finally, there really aren't any forced "gameplay" execution tests to be found here; what you see is what you get.
And yet, I am confident that this is still the most distinct point and click adventure game I've ever played. The game will outright start by telling you that time behaves differently in the Land of Dream; it warns you that if you try to interact with things at a similar pace to our world, you might find the whole experience outright unpleasant. So take your time and just soak in the moment, observing all you see and can click on. And it's absolutely worthwhile to do so; embedded in the game are tons of silly references, jokes, narratives, flights of fancy, and much more. The game walks this tightrope between being too other-worldly versus being too rooted in reality, but it just understands how to capture its wistfulness well without feeling too heavy. It's not afraid to break the fourth wall every now and then alongside its philosophical tangents, but it's also subtly daring in how it tightly constructs its surrealist world with so many varied and colorful locations and individuals. There's a lot to unpack from speaking with everyone in this evocative and unfamiliar world, and plenty of bright and whimsical moments to be found alongside the pangs of yesterday. And despite this world feeling so unknown, it's deeply humanizing in how it emphasizes connection and reminds us all that there is so much we share despite our differences. It's such a mood that I've never quite experienced to this extent in any point and click adventure game I've ever played, and maybe any video game I've played to this day.
Fun fact by the way, did you know that this is written by Jonas Kyratzes, one of the writers of the Talos Principle? Or that Chris Christodoulou, the composer of the Risk of Rain soundtracks, handled the music for this game? I only just found out about this now, but it's such an interesting collaboration between two greats that have handled such different works in video games. (Go check out Jonas Kyratzes' other works by the way, they're all just as strange and as fascinating as this one!)
So I'm left with not enough words and not enough time to really decipher exactly how to put it all down. The fanciful hand drawn graphics, the contemplative tinkering background tunes, the flurry of silly jokes and references scattered across the dreamy landscapes, and the messages sent and felt through the window; it all comes together almost seamlessly and I can't imagine how it would play out any other way. You just have to experience this for yourself to really capture an understanding for what makes this seemingly innocent title so powerful. It's fantastical yet familiar, simple yet layered, and nostalgic yet unafraid of the future. I think we could all learn something from The Sea Will Claim Everything, in that it never forgets to emphasize how important it is to enjoy the now and then; I sure know I won't be forgetting about this anytime soon.
If you've read any of my recent reviews lately, you might be able to tell that I've sort of been in a pickle. I've felt a bit restless yet exhausted trying out different things only for nothing to seemingly stick; Deus Ex is always just a bit too much for my tired mind after a long day at work (and I suck at stealth), Skies of Arcadia looks and sounds so cool but right now it feels a bit too drawn-out for my fickle being, Muv-Luv is filled with these loud characters that seem to just act at their own whim, the older Ys games I've tried have been pretty fun but haven't lived up to Origin or Lacrimosa of Dana, and party game weekend was lightning in a bottle that quite frankly, I'm not sure I really ever want to go through or attempt to capture again. And it makes me wonder, where I went wrong to make gaming feel less like a hobby and more like a chore. But playing through Root Film recently got me thinking that maybe, I should just go back to the classics for a bit.
I don't usually take the time to replay older games I've enjoyed. My backlog is bursting with titles (and only gets larger when my friends dig up yet another dusty title that they played back in the day), and I'd like to think I'm past those days of mindlessly comboing CPUs in Rivals of Aether to instrumental music. And even if I were to revisit some favorites, point and clicks don't tend to fall on that list; they're great for a quick fix of adventure and simple puzzle solving, and you move on with your day, never to play it again because you've seen it all. That said, The Sea Will Claim Everything continues to stand out in my memory, so... why not revisit it to find out why?
This is probably one of the harder reviews that I have had to write; I can usually pin down exactly why I like or dislike certain games due to specific gameplay elements and features, and as such most of my reviews tend to be more mechanically focused. But how do you even begin describing a game like The Sea Will Claim Everything? It is about as barebones as a point and click adventure game can get. There's no dragging items to and from an inventory for interaction; the usual motley of "verbs" for interacting with objects have been replaced with 4 buttons describing the human senses. Most of the game involves clicking and reading text with no voice acting or animations, and many of the "puzzles" could be simplified as straight fetch quests. And finally, there really aren't any forced "gameplay" execution tests to be found here; what you see is what you get.
And yet, I am confident that this is still the most distinct point and click adventure game I've ever played. The game will outright start by telling you that time behaves differently in the Land of Dream; it warns you that if you try to interact with things at a similar pace to our world, you might find the whole experience outright unpleasant. So take your time and just soak in the moment, observing all you see and can click on. And it's absolutely worthwhile to do so; embedded in the game are tons of silly references, jokes, narratives, flights of fancy, and much more. The game walks this tightrope between being too other-worldly versus being too rooted in reality, but it just understands how to capture its wistfulness well without feeling too heavy. It's not afraid to break the fourth wall every now and then alongside its philosophical tangents, but it's also subtly daring in how it tightly constructs its surrealist world with so many varied and colorful locations and individuals. There's a lot to unpack from speaking with everyone in this evocative and unfamiliar world, and plenty of bright and whimsical moments to be found alongside the pangs of yesterday. And despite this world feeling so unknown, it's deeply humanizing in how it emphasizes connection and reminds us all that there is so much we share despite our differences. It's such a mood that I've never quite experienced to this extent in any point and click adventure game I've ever played, and maybe any video game I've played to this day.
Fun fact by the way, did you know that this is written by Jonas Kyratzes, one of the writers of the Talos Principle? Or that Chris Christodoulou, the composer of the Risk of Rain soundtracks, handled the music for this game? I only just found out about this now, but it's such an interesting collaboration between two greats that have handled such different works in video games. (Go check out Jonas Kyratzes' other works by the way, they're all just as strange and as fascinating as this one!)
So I'm left with not enough words and not enough time to really decipher exactly how to put it all down. The fanciful hand drawn graphics, the contemplative tinkering background tunes, the flurry of silly jokes and references scattered across the dreamy landscapes, and the messages sent and felt through the window; it all comes together almost seamlessly and I can't imagine how it would play out any other way. You just have to experience this for yourself to really capture an understanding for what makes this seemingly innocent title so powerful. It's fantastical yet familiar, simple yet layered, and nostalgic yet unafraid of the future. I think we could all learn something from The Sea Will Claim Everything, in that it never forgets to emphasize how important it is to enjoy the now and then; I sure know I won't be forgetting about this anytime soon.
Fez
2012
Phil Fish is dead. Or like, he doesn't want to do games anymore. Edmund McMillan seems content to just keep releasing Issac over and over. Is Jonathan Blow still around? Seems like no one talks about games from that era anymore. Compare that to 2012: Fez was a huge fucking deal back in the day. For months at a time, Humble Bundle would exclusively feature pixel art puzzle platformers that seemed designed specifically to ride it's wave. Phil Fish, Edmund McMillan, Johnny Blow, there were all these upstart indie devs fucking around getting too big for their britches. It seemed to be a hopeful time for gaming. Games have changed. Indie games, specifically, have changed. Things are different. But despite all that, Fez still holds up pretty well.
It's just nice! The visuals are great, and the world is filled with little animals and foliage, making it feel very alive. There's a cohesiveness to the game that is very apparent after a few hours.
The main puzzles are easy enough, and keep twisting the gimmick in challenging or fun ways. Something as simple as lining up the climbable ivy on walls is satisfying and they replicate that feeling throughout without ever feeling stale. I haven't yet gotten into the more cryptic shit, but surely that will be fun or interesting.
You have to wonder where Fez would've landed if it had been dropped in the 2022 ecosystem. Would it just be the same, maybe. Maybe it would be a Battle Royale somehow, or a rougelite? Would Fish have stuck it out and maybe eventually dropped Fez 2? I don't have answers. I don't even really have questions. Either way, Fez is worth a play. Especially if you're a recovering ironist who may have dismissed it out of hand based on its anti-popularity on video game image boards. I invite readers of this review, if you've made it this far, to check out my notes on my playthrough of this game. No clue how to get to that part of this website, but hey, give it a look.
It's just nice! The visuals are great, and the world is filled with little animals and foliage, making it feel very alive. There's a cohesiveness to the game that is very apparent after a few hours.
The main puzzles are easy enough, and keep twisting the gimmick in challenging or fun ways. Something as simple as lining up the climbable ivy on walls is satisfying and they replicate that feeling throughout without ever feeling stale. I haven't yet gotten into the more cryptic shit, but surely that will be fun or interesting.
You have to wonder where Fez would've landed if it had been dropped in the 2022 ecosystem. Would it just be the same, maybe. Maybe it would be a Battle Royale somehow, or a rougelite? Would Fish have stuck it out and maybe eventually dropped Fez 2? I don't have answers. I don't even really have questions. Either way, Fez is worth a play. Especially if you're a recovering ironist who may have dismissed it out of hand based on its anti-popularity on video game image boards. I invite readers of this review, if you've made it this far, to check out my notes on my playthrough of this game. No clue how to get to that part of this website, but hey, give it a look.