Greater than the sum of its parts, Shadow of the Colossus delivers a cinematic experience from start to finish. It's success is rooted in the atmosphere the game cultivates - a beautiful, tranquil landscape juxtaposed against chaotic, epic battles with the colossi. The former teaches you to develop a routine. I became very comfortable with riding Agro around, searching the wilderness for my next opponent, and the pre-battle ritual of finding a shrine and catching a lizard. The boss fights themselves teach you to think differently and throw you off-guard.

It's this atmospheric thread that flows throughout the game structure itself as well, and binds the story together. In the beginning of the game, everything is presented as simple - you are to gain the power to bring back Mono by defeating evil colossi. However, as you progress towards your goal, it becomes apparent that everything is not as it seems. The treks to the boss-fights become trickier, the bosses change from relaxing puzzles to dodging things like fireballs, and things begin to take on an un-easy feeling.

If I wanted to put on my literary criticism hat, I could also tie the playfully mischievous camera into this as well. The camera, oftentimes, seems to work with its own agency against the player. It's designed to create sweeping cinematic angles, most easily seen when riding Agro, which are indeed beautiful, but they aren't practical. In the beginning, I kept trying to wrest control from the camera in order to control it myself, and while it is possible, it always took great effort and threw me off of my game. I got used to the camera while traveling pretty quickly after I learned that faithful Agro will never throw you off of an unsuspecting ledge. However, I'm a little embarrassed to say it took me until the 10th colossus, Dirge, to actually give control over to the camera. I realized that it showed me exactly what I wanted to see on its own, and I could focus on fighting the colossus instead of the controls. Another sign of the Wanderer being driven by an invisible hand, unable to act with his own agency? Maybe. But I'm no longer an English teacher, so I won't force you to take my more literary perspective on game mechanics.

The colossi battles themselves range from spectacular to frustrating, though most of the time, the frustration is with the Wanderer's limitations rather than his opponent. Lying on the ground for what seems like eons after being hit, awkward aerial controls that sometimes send you a different direction than expected, and his penchant for falling over at the slightest change in momentum by a colossus all can be fairly frustrating. Overall though, I really enjoyed the puzzle-like nature of the battles. In fact, I wish there were more multi-layered puzzles in the vein of Pelagia and Argus that took full use of the environment and multiple weak-points rather than an over-reliance on the massive enemies just shaking endlessly. I understand that they need a defense against the Wanderer's attacks, but you have so much stamina by the end, that shaking isn't a deterrent - it just makes things take longer.

I realize that my take on the colossi battles borders on nitpicking for a game that came out on the PS2. I never played the PS2 version, though I can only imagine how vast and epic the game and world must have seemed in that time. That's the true heart of the game anyways - the feelings of awe, comfort, solitude, struggle and triumph you get while playing the game, all culminating in an ending which truly brings the pieces of the largest puzzle together, and provides satisfying closure to the experience.