EUREKA!
As much as this often frightening reboot feels constrained by its own series heritage, Tomb Raider lingers in the mind like a post traumatic encounter with death. Not just one death, but numerous visceral incidents where the body of the young Lara Croft is beaten, bruised, and expunged by the inhabitants (both living and ecological) of the aggressive island encasing her. Nearly every action taken -- scaling steep rockslides, forcing open doors and valves, investigating artifacts, skinning wildlife, hunting with bow and arrow -- emphasizes a burgeoning woman coming to grips with the menaces of culture as she explores and comes to recognize alarming truths.
A forested coming of age tale not unlike Gary Paulsen's Hatchet, sprinkled with the claustrophobic terrors of The Descent, and enveloped in Uncharted-inspired gameplay mechanics (with actual instated narrative accordance); Tomb Raider is overall a familiar product which often falls into typical AAA trappings. However, this wartorn experience investigates the fabrication of a brutal, apathetic soldier, a trepidatious tragedy made suitably empathetic by applying the lead's psychological journey through violent interactivity. In other words, Kill or be killed. "I can do this," Lara remarks early on, muttering affirmations to herself for the sake of survival, unaware of the monster she will later, inevitably become.
As the excessively gruesome scenarios unfold throughout the game, her determination to live eventually becomes an eagerness to conquer, as sickening as the incalculable death scenes prompted with every Game Over. A thrilling and dizzying ascent up an antenna tower to signal to civilization affirms the final process of her evolution: a huntress emerges bloodied and vindictive, callous towards those threatening her and fueled by an internal perseverance; she CAN do this. Supportive assurance becomes fact.
Indeed, every appalling casualty she suffers at the hands of the player's own failure wrecks the mind. Intentionally attempting to capture a debilitating and distressing audience reaction overall justifies the developers' brutal depictions, for it instills a similar determination within the player to push through hardships and ensure Lara's progress, no matter the human cost (her's or otherwise). A legitimate survival story as any other, flawed though it may be, thanks to forgettable archetypal characters and questionable scenarios; but nonetheless remarkably poignant and humanistic.
As much as this often frightening reboot feels constrained by its own series heritage, Tomb Raider lingers in the mind like a post traumatic encounter with death. Not just one death, but numerous visceral incidents where the body of the young Lara Croft is beaten, bruised, and expunged by the inhabitants (both living and ecological) of the aggressive island encasing her. Nearly every action taken -- scaling steep rockslides, forcing open doors and valves, investigating artifacts, skinning wildlife, hunting with bow and arrow -- emphasizes a burgeoning woman coming to grips with the menaces of culture as she explores and comes to recognize alarming truths.
A forested coming of age tale not unlike Gary Paulsen's Hatchet, sprinkled with the claustrophobic terrors of The Descent, and enveloped in Uncharted-inspired gameplay mechanics (with actual instated narrative accordance); Tomb Raider is overall a familiar product which often falls into typical AAA trappings. However, this wartorn experience investigates the fabrication of a brutal, apathetic soldier, a trepidatious tragedy made suitably empathetic by applying the lead's psychological journey through violent interactivity. In other words, Kill or be killed. "I can do this," Lara remarks early on, muttering affirmations to herself for the sake of survival, unaware of the monster she will later, inevitably become.
As the excessively gruesome scenarios unfold throughout the game, her determination to live eventually becomes an eagerness to conquer, as sickening as the incalculable death scenes prompted with every Game Over. A thrilling and dizzying ascent up an antenna tower to signal to civilization affirms the final process of her evolution: a huntress emerges bloodied and vindictive, callous towards those threatening her and fueled by an internal perseverance; she CAN do this. Supportive assurance becomes fact.
Indeed, every appalling casualty she suffers at the hands of the player's own failure wrecks the mind. Intentionally attempting to capture a debilitating and distressing audience reaction overall justifies the developers' brutal depictions, for it instills a similar determination within the player to push through hardships and ensure Lara's progress, no matter the human cost (her's or otherwise). A legitimate survival story as any other, flawed though it may be, thanks to forgettable archetypal characters and questionable scenarios; but nonetheless remarkably poignant and humanistic.