Galga_
7 reviews liked by Galga_
Rain World
2017
Andrei Tarkovsky's PAC-MAN
Rain World
2017
I'll confess that I've only played about 20 minutes of this game, so I'm not really reviewing it for myself, but for my best friend who passed away in March. We lived together so we would hang out and talk about video games almost everyday and before he passed away THIS was his favorite game, full-stop.
It's hard to describe how much I miss chatting with him about Rain World, it made him passionate about game ideas he was programming and passionate about games in general, it was exciting to see him have that spark for making art again. It's cringey, but I wish I could message the developers and let them know how much it meant to my friend that this game even EXISTED, let alone that it was this amazing to him.
The last conversation I ever had with him he was telling me about the lore for Rain World, how he beat every piece of content in it just to learn more about the story, and to my surprise, I found in one of his journals pages of him deciphering the lore and studying it on his own for fun.
It'll be a long while before I'm able to play any of his favorite games again, but I'm going to rate this a 5 on his behalf anyway, as I have no doubt in my mind it's what he would have given it. I'll never know why he chose to leave, but I at least have this game that spoke to him in a way you wish all art could, and as much as I wish he was here to tell you why it's a 5-star game, you'll just have to take my word for it. This was a perfect game to him, and he had way better taste than me!
It's hard to describe how much I miss chatting with him about Rain World, it made him passionate about game ideas he was programming and passionate about games in general, it was exciting to see him have that spark for making art again. It's cringey, but I wish I could message the developers and let them know how much it meant to my friend that this game even EXISTED, let alone that it was this amazing to him.
The last conversation I ever had with him he was telling me about the lore for Rain World, how he beat every piece of content in it just to learn more about the story, and to my surprise, I found in one of his journals pages of him deciphering the lore and studying it on his own for fun.
It'll be a long while before I'm able to play any of his favorite games again, but I'm going to rate this a 5 on his behalf anyway, as I have no doubt in my mind it's what he would have given it. I'll never know why he chose to leave, but I at least have this game that spoke to him in a way you wish all art could, and as much as I wish he was here to tell you why it's a 5-star game, you'll just have to take my word for it. This was a perfect game to him, and he had way better taste than me!
Super Metroid
1994
Apprezzato:
-Power up. Tra tutti i metroidvania che ho giocato è quello che mi ha trasmesso di più un senso di progressione con i nuovi poteri acquisiti. La dinamicità che si guadagna man mano che il gioco procede rivoluziona quasi completamente il gameplay e ci si trova alla fine con qualcosa di fondamentalmente diverso da ciò che si aveva all'inizio. I potenziamenti delle tute e delle armi rendono poi il backtracking una componente fondamentale del gioco.
-Esplorazione. Super Metroid è un gioco molto incentrato sull'esplorazione e sull'attenzione al dettaglio. Molti passaggi per procedere in avanti con la storia sono infatti spesso nascosti e bisogna studiare ogni area per essere sicuri che non ci sia un passaggio segreto. Tramite un sistema di capienze massime di alcuni oggetti, che possono essere aumentate trovando in giro per la mappa potenziamenti di essi, l'esplorazione diviene una componente essenziale e non è possibile privarsene, è d'altro canto però molto gratificante e premia sempre il giocatore.
-Estetica. Super Metroid ha un fascino davvero incredibile. Ogni suo aspetto trasmette originalità e al tempo stesso rimanda ad un'estetica sci fi/horror anni 80' arricchita da elementi fantasy più classici. Il mix che ne viene fuori è un'identità molto forte che rimane da subito ben impressa.
-Il suo essere senza tempo. Tra tutti i giochi classici che ho recuperato, Super Metroid è probabilmente quello in cui ho sentito meno di tutti il peso del tempo, sia per quanto riguarda il sistema di controllo, per le meccaniche che per l'estetica. Super Metroid è un gioco senza tempo, è grandioso tutt'ora ed è affascinante vedere come i metroidvania abbiano preso a piene mani da questo titolo.
Non Apprezzato:
-Nulla.
Conclusioni:
Ritengo che Super Metroid sia un gioco fondamentale per ogni fan dei metroidvania, sia per le influenze che ha avuto che per quelle che avrà ancora in futuro. Un gioco perfettamente godibile, atemporale e gratificante. Stimolante nelle sue meccaniche, ti spinge sempre di più a cercare di perfezionarle tramite la risoluzione di piccole (non in quantità) fasi puzzle, alcune fondamentali per la storia altre secondarie ma altresì importanti. Perché il pregio principale di Super Metroid è quello di rendere tutto fondamentalmente importante, non capiterà mai di prendere una strada e, dopo essersi accorti che porterà a qualcosa di secondario, fermarsi e tornare indietro, perché ciò che c'è di secondario ha un riscontro diretto con ciò che c'è di primario. Un gioco consigliatissimo a fan, e non, del genere.
-Power up. Tra tutti i metroidvania che ho giocato è quello che mi ha trasmesso di più un senso di progressione con i nuovi poteri acquisiti. La dinamicità che si guadagna man mano che il gioco procede rivoluziona quasi completamente il gameplay e ci si trova alla fine con qualcosa di fondamentalmente diverso da ciò che si aveva all'inizio. I potenziamenti delle tute e delle armi rendono poi il backtracking una componente fondamentale del gioco.
-Esplorazione. Super Metroid è un gioco molto incentrato sull'esplorazione e sull'attenzione al dettaglio. Molti passaggi per procedere in avanti con la storia sono infatti spesso nascosti e bisogna studiare ogni area per essere sicuri che non ci sia un passaggio segreto. Tramite un sistema di capienze massime di alcuni oggetti, che possono essere aumentate trovando in giro per la mappa potenziamenti di essi, l'esplorazione diviene una componente essenziale e non è possibile privarsene, è d'altro canto però molto gratificante e premia sempre il giocatore.
-Estetica. Super Metroid ha un fascino davvero incredibile. Ogni suo aspetto trasmette originalità e al tempo stesso rimanda ad un'estetica sci fi/horror anni 80' arricchita da elementi fantasy più classici. Il mix che ne viene fuori è un'identità molto forte che rimane da subito ben impressa.
-Il suo essere senza tempo. Tra tutti i giochi classici che ho recuperato, Super Metroid è probabilmente quello in cui ho sentito meno di tutti il peso del tempo, sia per quanto riguarda il sistema di controllo, per le meccaniche che per l'estetica. Super Metroid è un gioco senza tempo, è grandioso tutt'ora ed è affascinante vedere come i metroidvania abbiano preso a piene mani da questo titolo.
Non Apprezzato:
-Nulla.
Conclusioni:
Ritengo che Super Metroid sia un gioco fondamentale per ogni fan dei metroidvania, sia per le influenze che ha avuto che per quelle che avrà ancora in futuro. Un gioco perfettamente godibile, atemporale e gratificante. Stimolante nelle sue meccaniche, ti spinge sempre di più a cercare di perfezionarle tramite la risoluzione di piccole (non in quantità) fasi puzzle, alcune fondamentali per la storia altre secondarie ma altresì importanti. Perché il pregio principale di Super Metroid è quello di rendere tutto fondamentalmente importante, non capiterà mai di prendere una strada e, dopo essersi accorti che porterà a qualcosa di secondario, fermarsi e tornare indietro, perché ciò che c'è di secondario ha un riscontro diretto con ciò che c'è di primario. Un gioco consigliatissimo a fan, e non, del genere.
Super Metroid
1994
Dove inizia la vera merda (the real shit)
The Walking Dead
2012
This review contains spoilers
I'm including my own spoiler warning here, just to be 100% safe. This has ending spoilers.
If I were to say that this is the only Walking Dead media I’ve ever viewed, what would you anticipate that I would say in the review? One guess could be that since the setting was completely fresh, the story would be as impactful as it could possibly be. Another guess could be just the opposite, that without the depth and wordbuilding afforded by its predecessors, it wouldn’t feel nearly as dramatic as it should. No matter which way a player in my shoes ended up actually feeling, it’s impossible to get away from the influence of these personal or cultural reference factors. So, while I haven’t read The Walking Dead or seen its TV adaptation, I can’t help but feel like my experience with the game was tainted by similar reference points regardless.
If there’s one recurring motif in the post-apocalyptic genre, it’s the gulf between pragmatic and moral decision making. Choosing to save someone’s life when they might betray you, stealing food, leaving people to die so you can escape, these are the bread and butter of apocalypse dilemmas. However, making decisions that would jeopardize your survival aren’t impactful in the context of an episodic story with no narrative failure state. Having played other episodic games and adventure games in general, I knew that the story would always take priority over the minutiae of player decisions, and that a generous latitude would always be granted in favor of a smooth narrative. For example, if you decide not to steal a sweater for Clementine, the result would never be that she’ll freeze to death and end the game, but that there might be some complaints of being cold later on. However, in the case of The Walking Dead, Clem would never actually tell you to do something immoral, and this is where I feel like she’s emblematic of the game’s problems. She’s the only character Lee really has a reason to care for, she unerringly advocates for moral choices, and as previously established, there’s no benefit in going for the more pragmatic choices. What you’re left with is a human incarnation of the game’s moral compass, scolding you for choices that would be perfectly reasonable outside the context of a story where immorality doesn’t have actual benefits. This all comes to a head with the game’s finale, where Clementine is abducted by someone who claims they’ll be a better surrogate parent than you. He attempts to throw all your selfish decisions in your face, but the lack of benefits to pragmatism and the endless moral signposting will probably make this confrontation fall entirely on its face; he will have no ammo to use against you. Not only that, but in an example of the unshakable course of the narrative rearing its head, even the immoral version of Lee will still be the better choice for Clementine, thanks to the odd decision of making this villain an unhinged psychopath carrying his wife’s zombie head in a bag. Even the moment of Lee’s final judgement, the moment all your decisions have built up to, has to be stripped of consequence so that Lee can still be seen in a positive enough light for the final scene with Clementine to function.
Remember though, this damage to the tension and weight of the narrative is mostly flowing from the knowledge of genre reference points. What if I had no clue that episodic games worked the way they do, and instead functioned like choose-your-own-adventure novels where you could fail at any time? What if The Walking Dead actually did have a history of killing characters people thought were unassailable, and actually would kill a character like Clementine? For all I know, maybe it already does, and this knowledge deepened the drama for series fans. With that level of uncertainty, even if the story was still just as linear, the weight of each decision would be strong enough to support the drama of the narrative. However, it’s not like The Walking Dead is alone in wrestling with the cultural context of its release, it affects every piece of media that will ever exist. I understand that there’s a combination of influence factors that would make it engaging for people, but a failure to move beyond, or at least plan around, the predictability and limitations of its chosen format is a failure nonetheless.
If I were to say that this is the only Walking Dead media I’ve ever viewed, what would you anticipate that I would say in the review? One guess could be that since the setting was completely fresh, the story would be as impactful as it could possibly be. Another guess could be just the opposite, that without the depth and wordbuilding afforded by its predecessors, it wouldn’t feel nearly as dramatic as it should. No matter which way a player in my shoes ended up actually feeling, it’s impossible to get away from the influence of these personal or cultural reference factors. So, while I haven’t read The Walking Dead or seen its TV adaptation, I can’t help but feel like my experience with the game was tainted by similar reference points regardless.
If there’s one recurring motif in the post-apocalyptic genre, it’s the gulf between pragmatic and moral decision making. Choosing to save someone’s life when they might betray you, stealing food, leaving people to die so you can escape, these are the bread and butter of apocalypse dilemmas. However, making decisions that would jeopardize your survival aren’t impactful in the context of an episodic story with no narrative failure state. Having played other episodic games and adventure games in general, I knew that the story would always take priority over the minutiae of player decisions, and that a generous latitude would always be granted in favor of a smooth narrative. For example, if you decide not to steal a sweater for Clementine, the result would never be that she’ll freeze to death and end the game, but that there might be some complaints of being cold later on. However, in the case of The Walking Dead, Clem would never actually tell you to do something immoral, and this is where I feel like she’s emblematic of the game’s problems. She’s the only character Lee really has a reason to care for, she unerringly advocates for moral choices, and as previously established, there’s no benefit in going for the more pragmatic choices. What you’re left with is a human incarnation of the game’s moral compass, scolding you for choices that would be perfectly reasonable outside the context of a story where immorality doesn’t have actual benefits. This all comes to a head with the game’s finale, where Clementine is abducted by someone who claims they’ll be a better surrogate parent than you. He attempts to throw all your selfish decisions in your face, but the lack of benefits to pragmatism and the endless moral signposting will probably make this confrontation fall entirely on its face; he will have no ammo to use against you. Not only that, but in an example of the unshakable course of the narrative rearing its head, even the immoral version of Lee will still be the better choice for Clementine, thanks to the odd decision of making this villain an unhinged psychopath carrying his wife’s zombie head in a bag. Even the moment of Lee’s final judgement, the moment all your decisions have built up to, has to be stripped of consequence so that Lee can still be seen in a positive enough light for the final scene with Clementine to function.
Remember though, this damage to the tension and weight of the narrative is mostly flowing from the knowledge of genre reference points. What if I had no clue that episodic games worked the way they do, and instead functioned like choose-your-own-adventure novels where you could fail at any time? What if The Walking Dead actually did have a history of killing characters people thought were unassailable, and actually would kill a character like Clementine? For all I know, maybe it already does, and this knowledge deepened the drama for series fans. With that level of uncertainty, even if the story was still just as linear, the weight of each decision would be strong enough to support the drama of the narrative. However, it’s not like The Walking Dead is alone in wrestling with the cultural context of its release, it affects every piece of media that will ever exist. I understand that there’s a combination of influence factors that would make it engaging for people, but a failure to move beyond, or at least plan around, the predictability and limitations of its chosen format is a failure nonetheless.
7/10
On a surface level, a supernatural teen drama revolving around time travels. A thrilling investigation, an alleged apocalypse approaching, bullies all over, loss and addiction, parent issues, and implied love stories are the very core of the game's narrative (with perhaps too evident Donnie Darko vibes).
On a deeper level, it's about a bunch of hipsters that cannot accept that time passes for many reasons. Chloe can't accept that Rachel is gone as her own father; photography is seen as a tool to freeze (and turn back) time (and Blackwell students therefore are incapable of letting time pass - Kate cannot accept having being photographed during a party; Nathan and Victoria bully her and others through photos); Max cannot accept letting things (and most importantly, people) go. The gameplay (except for dozens of tedious environmental puzzles) revolves around this: you can unmake and remake your choices over and over but there is no ultimately good or bad choice - you increasingly get attached to past moments and past choices and yet this doesn't allow you to better face the present (see how powerless Max - and players - feel after Kate's sequence).
In the end, the game also reflects on destiny and free will. Spoilers ahead.
The final choice is great in this sense. There, players find themselves in the position of many protagonists in determinism-vs-free-will fictions. As Lily in Devs, as Miles in Across the Spider-Verse, as Donnie Darko, you must choose whether or not to accept that Chloe dies (as it should be, preventing the apocalyptic consequences of your defying time to save her). It's empowering and disempowering at the same time, as you basically have to accept having killed the only one you wanted to save or thousands of innocents. At the same time it's brilliant as you find yourself in the position of making a choice that's more than philosophical: accepting the world as it is (or should be?) or going against it. It's political, existential, and quite moving at the same time.
On a surface level, a supernatural teen drama revolving around time travels. A thrilling investigation, an alleged apocalypse approaching, bullies all over, loss and addiction, parent issues, and implied love stories are the very core of the game's narrative (with perhaps too evident Donnie Darko vibes).
On a deeper level, it's about a bunch of hipsters that cannot accept that time passes for many reasons. Chloe can't accept that Rachel is gone as her own father; photography is seen as a tool to freeze (and turn back) time (and Blackwell students therefore are incapable of letting time pass - Kate cannot accept having being photographed during a party; Nathan and Victoria bully her and others through photos); Max cannot accept letting things (and most importantly, people) go. The gameplay (except for dozens of tedious environmental puzzles) revolves around this: you can unmake and remake your choices over and over but there is no ultimately good or bad choice - you increasingly get attached to past moments and past choices and yet this doesn't allow you to better face the present (see how powerless Max - and players - feel after Kate's sequence).
In the end, the game also reflects on destiny and free will. Spoilers ahead.
The final choice is great in this sense. There, players find themselves in the position of many protagonists in determinism-vs-free-will fictions. As Lily in Devs, as Miles in Across the Spider-Verse, as Donnie Darko, you must choose whether or not to accept that Chloe dies (as it should be, preventing the apocalyptic consequences of your defying time to save her). It's empowering and disempowering at the same time, as you basically have to accept having killed the only one you wanted to save or thousands of innocents. At the same time it's brilliant as you find yourself in the position of making a choice that's more than philosophical: accepting the world as it is (or should be?) or going against it. It's political, existential, and quite moving at the same time.
Outer Wilds
2019
This review contains spoilers
I just finished it so I cannot exclude its ranking will be lowered (or raised!) some day - but for now I'm just too astonished to give it less.
Gameplay-wise, this is undoubtedly environmental/indexical storytelling at its best. There are so many things to know, to understand, so many dots and hints to connect, and it is so brilliant you are totally on your own in gathering knowledge about alien civilizations, scientific discoveries, technological advancements, individual feelings and relationships, and so on. The game seems to follow up one of the best intuitions of Jonathan Blow's The Witness: everything you find, learn, and understand unveils new perspectives and approaches, new ways to deal with something you had right in front of you from the very beginning. In this sense, there are no secret paths to unlock, no keys to find or invisible doors popping up: as the game progresses, you just learn how this universe works. In this sense Outer Wilds uses some of the best design and storytelling techniques I have ever seen.
[Even its shortcuts are great: DLC SPOILERS HERE for example the one you find at the entrance of The Stranger, which is not beyond a closed door or an elevator you must activate and instead is right there, accessible from the very beginning, and only very hard to see - so brilliant, and so incredibly unmatched in other shortcut-based level designs (see soulsborne games for example DLC SPOILERS: END)].
The design of the game not only enhances the beauty of exploration and discovery but questions power fantasies of all sort. Growth is not in power, technology, and/or a combination of both. It's your knowledge growing. Your sensibility, the attention and depth of your dealing with the game's universe. In this sense, just like The Witness' ng+, Outer Wilds sounds like a transcendence-simulator of sort - in which reality stays the same from beginning to end but your conscience, action, and gaze do not.
Narrative-wise, it is even better.
SPOILERS HERE. Within the game, your journey is so emotionally and cognitively deep, and yet so ultimately useless, that it gathers philosophical meaning loop after loop. In the end, every effort is ultimately vain - reaching the Eye grants you a privileged place to witness the universe's end and nothing more, and after all what did you expect? The game doesn't even ask you to ponder about saving the universe or breaking the loop. The urge to understand pushes you forward but from within, it is not imposed by design. The game gets more and more philosophical as the end approaches. Its final section is undoubtedly the most moving and deep - as in MGS2 and Undertale, the game experience eventually finds final meaning in the memories it generates. The gathering of everyone we met at the final bonfire is one of the most moving I've ever experienced (perhaps with that of the tv series Lost) - and it gets more and more self-reflexive: the game is over, the loops are over, and these feelings are its legacy before we finally "move on" (yep it's a Lost reference). It is also, metaphorically, a reflection on life, death, and the meaning of existence (as the new universe resembles the white blinding light at the end of the tunnel, with all the dying ghosts waiting to be submerged by it). It is so cruel and emotional at the same time. SPOILERS: OVER.
I'd like to discuss about many other things. About how some puzzles alone are so great they deserve an in-depth analysis on their own, for example. Or about how the game uses music to enhance catharsis, to break compulsive playstyles, and to favour epiphanies. Or about how it reflects on nostalgia, disempowerment, the ludic sublime, and technology in a powerful and quite original way. But I guess I'm too excited now so I should give it some time, think about it a little more, and perhaps write down and record a podcast soon.
Gameplay-wise, this is undoubtedly environmental/indexical storytelling at its best. There are so many things to know, to understand, so many dots and hints to connect, and it is so brilliant you are totally on your own in gathering knowledge about alien civilizations, scientific discoveries, technological advancements, individual feelings and relationships, and so on. The game seems to follow up one of the best intuitions of Jonathan Blow's The Witness: everything you find, learn, and understand unveils new perspectives and approaches, new ways to deal with something you had right in front of you from the very beginning. In this sense, there are no secret paths to unlock, no keys to find or invisible doors popping up: as the game progresses, you just learn how this universe works. In this sense Outer Wilds uses some of the best design and storytelling techniques I have ever seen.
[Even its shortcuts are great: DLC SPOILERS HERE for example the one you find at the entrance of The Stranger, which is not beyond a closed door or an elevator you must activate and instead is right there, accessible from the very beginning, and only very hard to see - so brilliant, and so incredibly unmatched in other shortcut-based level designs (see soulsborne games for example DLC SPOILERS: END)].
The design of the game not only enhances the beauty of exploration and discovery but questions power fantasies of all sort. Growth is not in power, technology, and/or a combination of both. It's your knowledge growing. Your sensibility, the attention and depth of your dealing with the game's universe. In this sense, just like The Witness' ng+, Outer Wilds sounds like a transcendence-simulator of sort - in which reality stays the same from beginning to end but your conscience, action, and gaze do not.
Narrative-wise, it is even better.
SPOILERS HERE. Within the game, your journey is so emotionally and cognitively deep, and yet so ultimately useless, that it gathers philosophical meaning loop after loop. In the end, every effort is ultimately vain - reaching the Eye grants you a privileged place to witness the universe's end and nothing more, and after all what did you expect? The game doesn't even ask you to ponder about saving the universe or breaking the loop. The urge to understand pushes you forward but from within, it is not imposed by design. The game gets more and more philosophical as the end approaches. Its final section is undoubtedly the most moving and deep - as in MGS2 and Undertale, the game experience eventually finds final meaning in the memories it generates. The gathering of everyone we met at the final bonfire is one of the most moving I've ever experienced (perhaps with that of the tv series Lost) - and it gets more and more self-reflexive: the game is over, the loops are over, and these feelings are its legacy before we finally "move on" (yep it's a Lost reference). It is also, metaphorically, a reflection on life, death, and the meaning of existence (as the new universe resembles the white blinding light at the end of the tunnel, with all the dying ghosts waiting to be submerged by it). It is so cruel and emotional at the same time. SPOILERS: OVER.
I'd like to discuss about many other things. About how some puzzles alone are so great they deserve an in-depth analysis on their own, for example. Or about how the game uses music to enhance catharsis, to break compulsive playstyles, and to favour epiphanies. Or about how it reflects on nostalgia, disempowerment, the ludic sublime, and technology in a powerful and quite original way. But I guess I'm too excited now so I should give it some time, think about it a little more, and perhaps write down and record a podcast soon.