it does seem sort of like a directionless assemblage of vibes at first, but a true dream logic emerges in the second half as elements and scenes start recurring and lighting up regions of the subconscious. the full moon in the fridge and the endless/beginningless ladder make me tense up my tummy for reasons i can't understand. the overflowing rainbow cup minigame (and accompanying text) is aggressively hopeful in a way that's almost too obvious, but then the bizarre closing city sequence rebalances the tone just right. for my tastes, anyway.

actually, by some mildly cruel technocosmic joke, i can't play that second half on my computer. the game positively refuses not to crash right after the flower sequence every single time, so i had to give up and make do with a handful of youtube playthroughs. i am bummed to have only experienced the ending vicariously, not least because i kinda feel like i've broken the developer's directive to "play alone". but at the same time, the fact that i find myself stuck on the other side of an arbitrary barrier from the most magical part of the game sort of makes it take on a personalized extra layer of melancholy. almost hilariously on-the-nose really. so thanks porting kit for sucking ass i guess <3

it's nothing life-changing, but it would be silly to ask that of it. i'm a little different now; that's what matters.

i fuckingggg figured out how to use porting kit to play windows games on mac fuck yeah :)

rips off the pikmin "retrieve all the pieces of your marooned spaceship" premise but adds the mildly brilliant twist of it not even being your own damn spaceship. instead, you're helping an alien continue their botched abduction of you. out of fear? kindness? boredom? we don't know; there's no dialogue. you get the sense that the player character themself doesn't even really know why they're doing it, or what they're hoping will happen upon repairing the craft. in the end, the alien happily flies you back home in return for your help, but we find that our family has all gone to sleep rather than spending the night frantically searching for us. maybe they didn't even notice we'd left.

it's a lonely game, very overtly so. plenty lonely even before considering that the most abundant species on this "alien" planet appears to be homo sapiens—something our hero visibly is not (just in case the theming wasn't clear enough). again, there's no dialogue; there's not even an interact button. we see a girl in a long dress sitting on a cliffside, deep into a train of thought we can't board. we see a forest dweller go for a leisurely daytime swim in water that will kill us instantly if we touch it. we see a sad middle-aged man shuffle out of his lakeside home, look around for a moment, and then shuffle back inside once we've failed to ask him what the matter is. no matter how we may want to involve ourselves in the lives surrounding us, we are only ever a visitor here.

accordingly, there's no map either—our only knowledge of the world is that which we obtain ourselves. what we do have, though, is a sort of compass/beacon thing which points us in the cardinal direction of the nearest spaceship part. admittedly, this feels like a bit of an inelegant concession. i think the ideal version of a mapless metroidvania-like probably would not contain a "tells you which way to go" button, though it probably wouldn't have been advisable to just remove it and leave the rest unchanged in this case, either. maybe a breadcrumb trail/landmark mechanic would have been a good solution? trickier to design to be sure, but as it is, the game doesn't feel 100% at peace with its own creative limitations, which is a small shame.

still, it's a pleasure to play through. it's palpable just how thoughtful the designers were in deciding how all these various areas should interconnect, and the heart flutters a bit every time you stumble upon a beautiful new terrain. by the time you've fully mapped it out in your head, you really have grown fond of this world you've traversed. ultimately, we know we have no business here, but the melancholy only turns our fondness all the more potent. knytt is a game deeply aware of the unique flavor beauty takes on in the eyes of lonely beholders. recommended for anyone who spent their teen years relating a bit too hard to belle and sebastian or radiohead songs. turn off the lights and play alone—this has all happened to you before.