// Heavy Rain

David Cage’s philosophy of making gameplay secondary to a more realistic gaming experience is not to everyone’s taste. Quantic Dream’s second outing, the hugely underrated Fahrenheit (or Indigo Prophesy if you’re American), was criticised as being a five hour long interactive movie; an endless sequence of quick-time events and over extended unnecessary ‘action’ sequences. Certain moments were dragged out and exaggerated well beyond their welcome, especially that god-awful claustrophobic cop scene where you were required to walk slowly whilst alternating between pressing LT and RT to balance your breathing. It was like holding down a manual in Tony Hawks for ten minutes solid with all the fun surgically extracted.

 

I personally loved Fahrenheit and genuinely believe it to be one of the best games to come out of the last generation, even when it started to sacrifice the elements that made it unique during it's final chapters by turning you into a superhero and tasking you with saving the world. Hooray for innovation.

 

Anyway, that was 2005. Fast forward to 2010 and I’m pleased to say that Heavy Rain does not suffer from its' predecessor’s delusions of grandeur and frankly it’s all the better for it. Gone are the electricity men and wall running saviours of old, replaced by a bunch of relatable and mostly realistic characters. Mostly.

 

Do you remember the original teaser trailer? I do!

 

There are a total of four playable characters in Heavy Rain and the game cycles between them as you progress through its many, many chapters. All of them are interesting and stand up in their own right, although the cynic in me would say that they are slightly marred by cliché: There is the old cop who’s seen too much through the years and has turned to booze, the go-get’em journalist who will do anything for her next scoop, a young drug abusing FBI agent with an array of futuristic forensic tools and a reality altering pair of holographic projecting sunglasses… Ok, so that last one is pretty unique. But by far the most captivating character is one Ethan Mars, a guilt ridden father. Plagued by nightmares of losing his family Ethan Mars is tasked with a number of Saw-like missions to prove his parental love by the Origami Killer, the game’s mysterious antagonist. I found myself grinding out the chapters involving the other characters to rush to the next Ethan Mars stage to learn more about the twisted serial killer.

 

Heavy Rain is not about being mankind’s saviour or stopping the end of the world. It’s one of those rare games that is centred around a grounded and tangible plot: Hunting down a serial killer. In fact I think you only shoot a gun once or twice in the entire game, and even that was during a quick-time event…

 

The gaming world was sadly lacking in tooth-brushing simulators before Heavy Rain.

 

Yes, despite the fact that the majority of complaints received by Fahrenheit revolved around its heavy use of quick-time events, they have not been removed for Heavy Rain. If anything there is even more of them. I understand the purpose of quick-time events, by having context sensitive button presses flash up on screen your character can do anything the developers wanted, much more so than could be controlled by a rigidly defined controller layout, but I do wonder if there is a better way... perhaps the next generation may have the answers… touch screen controllers anyone??
 

I shouldn’t complain though, by and large the quick-time events are more tastefully used in Heavy Rain. There are some fantastic (although totally mundane) parts of the introductory chapter where you have to shave and brush your teeth and I loved the way this introduced you to the key concepts of the gameplay, fully utilising the PS3 six-axis controls. Whilst the majority of the quick-time events are well programmed and suit the situation, (for example having to gently manoeuvre the left stick to silently pick up a makeshift weapon before bopping a mugger over the head with a swift downwards swipe of the control), many felt forced-in to pad out the experience. Want to walk up a muddy slope? No problem, just press X, O, hold square and L2 then hammer the L1 and R1 button simultaneously. Silly.

 

Then I gently pressed X as she breathlessly L1'd...

 

This detachment from the direct control of your character does however free up the camera for some spectacularly cinematic (all be it heavily scripted) scenes and makes you feel like the director rather than the protagonist.
 

The quick-time events serve another purpose though. Unlike every other game where you can familiarise yourself with the controls and therefore become more proficient as you progress, Heavy Rain is able to retain tension and fear by being entirely reaction based. If you don’t want to get crushed inside a car crusher or drilled in your private parts by a mad surgeon then you had better be ready for any button combination the game can throw at you. Sounds shallow? I guess it is, but it works and it is innovative.
 

The clever way in which the game has been constructed means that characters can die permanently, adding to the seamlessly woven tale and altering and changing events as you progress. I don’t want to spoil the ending, but I think Quantic Dream missed out on a trick by not alternating the identity of the serial killer with each successive play-through. The story sets up nearly every character as potential candidates for the serial killer and you’re left guessing Origami’s identity through your entire first play-through. By your second run however, you know the twists and turns of the story. It’s a shame, but this simple matter all but removes replayability, even though it is clear there are many ways you can arrive at the end of the story, its' overall mystery and majesty is ruined by the act of completing it.

 

This idylic lifestyle definitly looks sustainable. You can tell by the colours.

 

Heavy Rain is a game that keeps you on the edge of your couch with it’s gripping story, great soundtrack and amazing gritty visuals.
 

But is it art?
 

David Cage has a lot of guts. He is not afraid to defy genre and is a huge player in advancing games beyond mere time-killers into a viable story telling medium. Heavy Rain has some of the most memorable moments in gaming history within it, and I don’t say that lightly. It looks great, it sounds great and by and large it even feels great. It is a welcome breath of fresh air in the all too often stale, dank, mainstream market and the fact this game is a full title and not just an arcade game shows great courage. Heavy Rain holds true to its style and entrances it's audience. You really feel sad, happy, scared and at least one point desperate as you journey through the plot. It’s adult, mature and entertaining.
 

The watered down elongated sections and occasional poor voice acting however demote this game from the ranks of Art in my mind. Don’t take this the wrong way though, I strongly recommend playing this game, you won’t regret it.
 

Verdict: Just a Game

// Dear Esther

Dear Esther,

 

I found myself staring at a host of black boxes. Unfamiliar towers of complexity, distant from the comfort zone in which I reside. Are these tools inaccessible for a man of my age and custom, I ask myself? To begin this journey, however, I knew it was a leap I must make. A leap of faith that left me penniless and open to virus and crawling with bugs.

 

Upon arriving home that day I longed for rest and relaxation, but it was not to be. A tangle of wires and cords barred entry like a nest of vipers; and yet I pressed on until finally my charge was complete. Somehow, miraculously, the whir of electronic components rotating filled the darkened room with sound and a pale blue glow marked the minor success.

 

It was all so new to me, Esther. I fruitlessly navigated my vessel through the spider’s web, the near infinite world of convolution. My anger rose. I was lost in a dense haze of smoke, pornography and advertisements choked my progress to a near crawl, but then I saw you. A distant red beacon blinking through the Steam.

 

 

The room was cold when I arrived at this island. It’s strange; many experiences strive in vain to immerse you and yet by simply bypassing the option of warmth it was as if I were actually there. My fingers were barely able to push the peculiar keys that lay upon the board before me. I felt my right hand rest upon a small animal, but there was no heat to be found from the mouse. I pressed on using unfamiliar tools within an unfamiliar vessel where once only a pad did lie.

 

Dear Esther, It’s like a dream here, isn’t it? Or perhaps a nightmare. A vague ghost story both real and unreal, concise and contradictory, beautiful and barren. The thin veneer of vegetation turns to greet me as I pass but there is no welcome here. I am alone on this island, watched by a blinking red beacon wherever I venture. I try a closed door to seek refuge, but can’t. I try my pockets for items of aid, but can’t. I try to crouch, but can’t. I try to run, but I can’t. I try to swim…

 

Come back.

 

And so I do, as if I’d never entered the water at all. I’m beginning to understand this place, Esther. It’s unlike anywhere I’ve ever been.

 

 

 

Perhaps I’ll pour myself a drink? Relax and enjoy the sensation of floating over babbling brooks of ethanol. Allow the EtOH to well in the cave of my gut before coursing through the blue tunnels of my veins. Perhaps this island will feel warmer with a drink Esther? Perhaps I’ll pour myself one… but yet I might have to drive before this evenings done. I’d pour myself a drink were it not for the warnings in my heart.

 

The warnings are written all over the walls.  

 

Perhaps Donnelley would have made a different decision. The hermit certainly warned Paul of the dangers on the road to Damascus. Had Jacobson suffered from cold hands too? This island confounds. All sense of time is lost. I’m bored and yet enraptured simultaneously. It’s all part of the journey, the questions, magical and sensory. Intelligent and warning. I arrived at this game in a vessel with no bottom and now I’m drifting into it’s trap. As the light fades and the journey nears it’s closure, I understand.

 

 

Dear Esther, this will be my last entry. The last time I climb this hill. The last time I make this trudge. I’ll pass on word of this Island that others may visit or send rescue. As I make my way to the highest point, I’m filled with awe and relief. I cannot tell you what it is to be here, you will have to find out for yourself, carve your own parallel white lines into the cliff. And as the blackness sets in I know that this will be my last visit to this island.

 

Come back.

 

Verdict : ART

 

Amongst the wealth of remaining questions on the tip of my tongue one seems more pressing than all others: Dear Esther, you are indeed art itself. Sculpted and crafted into a subtle beauty rare amongst the greys and browns of the modern landscape. But something is missing from you… I enjoyed every moment I spent with you Esther… this is so hard to say…

 

Esther, I love you dearly, but you are not a game.

 

// FEZ

Initially announced in 2007 this retro arcade title seemed to go into hiding before its final release in 2012. Now, this is the place I usually start by saying “I watched this game’s development for yadayada…” like the gaming snob I am, however the truth is that I first heard about it around 3 weeks before its release.

As well as being plagued by Duke Nukem and Alan Wake syndrome, FEZ’s other claim to infamy comes in the form of its lead developer Phil Fish being viciously criticised by both fans and the press. Withholding patches that are ‘too expensive’ for indie game developers is one thing, but publicly insulting the entire Japanese gaming industry, stating that gamers are the worst type of people AND telling a critic to “Suck my di*k. Choke on it” on twitter, have cast Phil into a bad light… but enough about that! What matters is the product right? After all, Gordon Ramsey might not talk nice but he sure makes good food!

My story begins after I downloaded the demo out of curiosity. I then proceeded to sit and stare for a long time at the title screen before finally pressing anything and jumping into the action. 

This sense of illusion translates into all aspects of the game.
How many orientations can you see? 

The game starts by Gomez, a cute little… well I’m not certain when he is meant to be actually, rising out of bed ready to embrace the day. Leaving his drum kit alone and stepping outside, his first quest is to simply climb up to the top of his 2D village and take part in a ceremony of sorts.

Along the way you encounter a number of fellow villagers, many of whom are very vocal about their contentment of living in a 2D world. A few even make mention of ‘Devil Squares’, otherwise known as cubes to you and I, and several even joke of there being another dimension. It’s curiously innocent and fascinating to explore this area, looking in on a culture sheltered from something so basic as a third dimension strangely got me thinking that perhaps we too are sheltered?!

Although I’m aware that this was probably just me.

Jump and climb your way to victory. Simple, right?

Gomez’s idyllic everyday village lifestyle is soon interrupted and threatened when disaster strikes during a routine ritual involving the ‘Hexahedron’. The golden cube deity fractures and explodes hurling its 64 component parts (cubes and anti-cubes) all across the land sending the world and your mind into disarray. And when I say your mind, I mean your mind. The fourth wall has not been broken so well in gaming since Metal Gear Solid’s ‘Psycho Mantis’ could move your control pad across the floor with just the power of his thought.

Charged with the task of recovering these errant cubes you are granted a brain bogglingly complex power, the power of a 3D perception. This power, bestowed upon you by the red fez on your head, forms the core gameplay mechanic. By tapping either LB or RB (on the xbox) the world will rotate by 90 degrees allowing you access to areas previously unreachable. This mechanic opens up worlds unimaginable to the village’s 2D inhabitants, allowing you to defy logic and physics by solving puzzles using forced perspectives and optical illusions that would make the likes of M.C.Escher and Victor Vasarely proud.

FEZ even has its own day/night cycle. Yes, this does affect the puzzles.

Navigating this beautiful environment is surprisingly simple by and large, and you rapidly come to understand FEZ’s own unique physical world. Should you make a mistake and plummet to your death, you return to exactly where you fell from, all but erasing the frustration element that plagues nearly all platform games. You’re also joined by a guide named Dot (with similarities to Navi from Ocarina of Time) to aid you on your quest who provides the occasional funny one liners and the odd vague hint to assist you with certain puzzles…

Oh god, the puzzles…

I’ve left the puzzles until last as they are for me the defining element of FEZ. Do you remember playing games like 'MYST' and 'Are you afraid of the Dark' when you were younger? Keeping a piece of paper and pen on standby to write down clues and hints as you figured them out? Making notes of strange symbols trying to piece them together or writing down disparate sentences from a riddle? FEZ taps directly into that mentality and takes you back to an innocent and happier (although occasionally perplexing) place.

Someone should put this on a T-shirt.

A friend and I played this game together and were enjoying it on a superficial level for a time. We saw the hidden QR codes and we had an inkling that perhaps there was more to the hieroglyphic letters than mere aesthetics. Then my clever, clever friend cracked it. We had stumbled upon the de-coding tablet in the woods, deciphered the alphabet and we were hooked. My friend even cancelled his planned train journey home in favour of 100%ing this game, which we did with only 2 checks of the internet (anyone who has played this game will understand this feat).

We were simply staggered by the subtle complexity of this game. It is THE most cryptic and understated game I have EVER played. Even now I can still read the language almost fluently because of the pure repetition of reviewing notes. And the hidden language was not the only code to crack in this game… still, I’ve said too much as it is. FEZ’s cute and enchanting exterior belies the intensely intricate game beneath.

But is it art?

FEZ is beautiful in a similar way to Sword and Sorcery or Another World and Polytron has absolutely nailed the retro 8-Bit aesthetic in both the visuals and audio. Jumping and climbing around as Gomez to locate the lost cubes is reminiscent of childlike adventuring. The range of locations is vast and the animation is magical. Your eyes are drawn to caterpillars and birds and the whole experience is strangely relaxing. It never ceases to amaze me what immaculate indie wonders can come from such a limited pallet.

But FEZ is a conundrum.

Developed by people with a sincere love of the gaming of yesteryear, and a profound mathematical vision, it is a modern day rubix cube locked in a 6 digit code safe, disguised as a retro soda stream. It is simultaneously both supremely simple and tremendously complex. It has puzzles ranging in difficulty from pushing a button all the way through to solving an upside down riddle in another language. It is safe to say that FEZ has something for everyone who gives it a chance, and whilst I only played this game during the weekend of its release – I only played this game during the weekend of its release.

Charming, sprightly and cerebral…

// LIMBO

Ah LIMBO.

I followed the development of this intriguing title through various magazines and internet articles for months prior to its release in July 2010. Denmark based developer Playdead really excelled when they designed this very special and striking IP. Now, having sold over 1 million copies across various platforms, LIMBO is heralded as one of the all-time great downloadable titles. A hefty feat considering this was the independent studio's  first effort.

LIMBO plays like a puzzle game crossbred with a platformer. Playing as an enigmatic glowing eyed boy, you move from ‘room to room’ encountering increasingly difficult and convoluted logic puzzles with a bit of magnetism, physics and gravity thrown in for good measure. Overall, it’s an addictive and rewarding lateral thinking experience, akin to games like Braid and Portal in some respects...

Yet at the time of its release the overwhelming reaction of punters seemed to be a bit “is that it?”. Costing around £10 for only 4-5 hours gameplay (only 45 minutes from beginning to end once you’ve cracked it) and having no DLC or multiplayer support, LIMBO was often criticised as not having enough bang for your pounds (or bucks, depending upon where you’re from).

This spider is definitely your friend

Nowadays in these enlightened times we can appreciate that LIMBO is, of course, the correct length. It does exactly what it has to do with no excess chaff, and this is particularly evident in it's presentation style.

Cleverly using a wide array of colours such as black, white and… well that’s it actually, Playdead succeeded in crafting an instant and beautiful cult classic. There are no lush green woodlands or fiery orange sunsets in LIMBO, but yet it is beautiful. It’s not the colourful beauty of spring’s vibrant blooming, but the cold and haunting beauty of a foggy autumn dawn. The silhouetted scenery is emotive and sad, though lined here and there with hopeful beams of struggling sunshine.

Its monochromatically morbid visual style is more than just an eye catching gimmick; it embodies everything that LIMBO is - minimalistic and concise. I remember reading a story about Playdead wanting to make the achievements impossibly hard to obtain so that the intrusive green and grey notifications would not ruin the atmosphere… As my old man always used to say; “why use 16.7 million colours when you can do it in 2”.

Even the music is low key. And by low key I mean absent. Rather than having a rich and complex orchestral score, like many would-be-art-games, LIMBO opts for setting the scene with eerie sound effects and ambient background noise. Be it the dry creaking of wooden planks underfoot or the oppressively piercing shriek of a circular saw blade, the audio always perfectly suits the situation at hand.

It's a cheery sort of game

As well as with LIMBO’s sensory aspects, this stark design philosophy is reflected in it’s storyline and gameplay too. Starting you out lying on the grass in a dark mysterious forest infested with flies and bear traps, the aim of the game is to move right until you win, tying in nicely with the non-existent narrative… Somewhere in the game’s description on the Xbox Live Marketplace is the hidden story ‘Uncertain of his Sister’s Fate, a Boy enters LIMBO…’ but there are next to no clues of this as you play. No dialog, no wordy descriptions and no scrolling backstory; you must simply press on to your unknown fate.

Enjoy having all your limbs while it lasts

All of LIMBO’s elements combine seamlessly and intelligently to create a feeling. You’re never told why you should empathise with the small boy, you just do. LIMBO is psychological, drawing on childhood fear of the dark, mute helplessness, monsters and menace. If you’ve ever had a nightmare in which you’re running away from something unseen and evil, or one wherein you’re unable to move and can’t control your actions, then you know how LIMBO can make you feel.

And it’s hard.

The challenging gameplay absorbs you, and the perpetual lemmings-like bloody, gory, gruesome deaths set your nerves on edge. If you want to finish in <5 lives you’re in for a tough ride. Every twig on the ground seems rigged to spring up and impale your small body and every bump on the ceiling is a loose boulder waiting to crush the light from your eyes. Paranoia and distrust set in fast and can even overwhelm you. Don’t play your first run-though in the dark.

Oops... Timing is key...

But is it art?

LIMBO sticks to it's guns, with its bare visuals and rudimentary audio defying the conventions of modern gaming. Analyse its meaning or accept it as it is, LIMBO leaves the player alone to their own imagination, and that for me is exceptional.

The grim, desolate and frankly terrifying world of LIMBO will have you pause in your tracks to stare awestruck and confused at the genius puzzle design, only to be chopped in two by clipper saw. The graphical details seen consistently throughout the game are astonishing, particularly the small touches like the way the dead grass sways as you pass by.

It’s highly polished, challenging, fun, oppressive, depressing, exhilarating, perplexing and oddly funny too. Once you have completed the game and seen it's conclusion you can even add deep and provocative to that list.

Verdict = ART

Thanks to Andy for his input on this one xxx

// Bastion

Games like Bastion are few and far between. Xbox live arcade games are released ten to the dozen but only one or two are worthy of mention following their completion. Bastion lingers on in people's memories not because it is addictive like Trials HD or cute like Castle Crashers but because it is distinctive in a different way. There is something about Bastion that is very rare in modern games… but I’m getting ahead of myself…

Before I get into the art / not art debate, let me first of all give a little backstory about the game itself. Bastion is an action adventure game with lite-RGP elements, developed by a tiny team of only 7 people from Supergiant Games. It was released in July 2011 to a generally positive reception and even received a few awards including 'Best Downloadable Title'.

Much of the gameplay is run of the mill, the hero is charged with the task of reassembling the world by collecting ‘shards’ and bringing them to the safe haven of the Bastion, which by and large translates into the player sprinting around levels smashing boxes and collecting money and experience points. Enemies appear upon entering new areas which you can then hit with a melee weapon, shoot with a ranged weapon or use special moves on and the occasional boss battles help to break up the grind. It’s fun, fluid and polished but it is certainly not something that hasn’t been done bags of times before.

“So why the high praise then, you intelligent and handsome man?” I hear you ask me.

Well, it takes only one look at a screenshot to see that this game is visually exceptional. The world appears almost hand painted and is bursting with vibrant colours all but forgotten by this generation of realistic gritty grey games. The isometric top-down forced perspective works really well at ensuring that the player perceives the land of Caelondia the way it was intended and the inability to directly control the camera harks back to a simpler time of gaming, freeing up the right analog stick to aim.

The game starts with a white haired boy lying in a bed upon an isolated mass of floating rock which once belonged to a beautiful city. The world has been recently ravaged and rent apart by an event referred to only as the Calamity, and uncovering what this disaster was and why it happened is a big driving force as you journey through the game. As you take control of ‘The Kid’ and walk out of your bedroom door new ground rises up to meet you and walls fall from the sky, permanently adding sections to the map piece by piece.



Where you gonna go, huh?

It’s an interesting re-imagining of an old mechanic; many games have a ‘fog of war’, greyed or blacked-out unvisited areas that reveal themselves as you travel and progress, but Bastion has managed to tie this exploration into the storyline of the game in such a way that is both visually and audibly satisfying to experience.

The presentation of Bastion is it's true selling point and a big, BIG part of that is owed to the game’s audio. Now, the music is by no means bad – in fact according to Wikipedia (the source of all knowledge and truth) 30,000 copies of the soundtrack alone had sold within only a few months of the games release, but it’s the narration that really captures your imagination.

The narration is constant throughout Bastion and from a gameplay perspective it’s the main way in which the storyline is driven and delivered, but it’s so much more than that in practice. The world of Caelondia and the events that led up to the Calamity are explained via short and poignant phrases by the narrator who is soon revealed to be an NPC by the name of Rucks. Voiced by Logan Cunningham (who you will remember from…? and also the equally famous film…?), Rucks paints such a beautiful picture of the land and it's former residents that you find yourself playing almost exclusively to hear what he has to say next, it really is that good. If the directors of Supergiant Games had secretly crossbred Morgan Freeman and David Attenborough the offspring would still have struggled to beat Logan’s performance.

And it’s not just the provocative and well delivered lines that makes this aspect so special, it’s how and when they are delivered that is truly matchless. When you first get out of bed the narrator says in a deep and gravelly voice “He gets up” and shortly after receiving your first weapon (and unleashing it on some nearby innocent crates and boxes) he says “The Kid just raged a while”. Nearly everything that you do is accompanied by a voice over and yet it never gets old or repetitive. This is not like the Guildmaster of Fable constantly saying “Your health is low, do you have any potions or food?” or the now infamous “Jason!” scene from Heavy Rain; the voice-over in Bastion is always wanted and really helps define the game.



The Kid just raged a while

It’s a short title, never outstaying its welcome; however there are a number of features that will keep you invested for at least a second play-through. Walking your character into all the corners of a room searching for hidden nooks and crannies becomes a compulsion and it’s within these secret areas that a lot of the game’s best items, upgrades and plot clues can be found. Collecting all the idols and upgrades is fun and the challenge rooms help to add variety, but for me it was just hearing the narration for a second time and being able to do so knowing the full picture of the story that kept me re-playing.

But is it art?

This was a tricky one for me to decide upon. In terms of the look and feel of the game you really must see it in action. Screen shots are very pretty but like so many games the true splendour does not become fully apparent until you're at the helm, but there is no denying that this game is artistic from a visual perspective.



I'd forgotten these colours existed

The music is good, sometimes even great, but it’s the poetry like narration that elevates this games status.

Unfortunately, whilst the story has a few twists and turns, I never felt like I'd been left with a lasting message. I was moved by the game in places but upon reflection the hack and slash, boxes-smash gameplay is somewhat jarring against the flow of the solemn narrative.

Bastion is a great game that you should all play. It’s concise, fun and polished and has the best narration EVER in a video game to boot, but…

Verdict: JUST A GAME

// Shadow of the Colossus

For those of you who know me it will come as no great surprise that I have decided to pass judgement on Shadow of the Colossus first. It’s one of my all-time favourite games of all time, so prepare yourselves for a totally unbiased review…

You see, ever since I was a small boy I’ve always dreamt about climbing up the downy fur of huge rock beasts before slaying them with an enchanted sword whilst dressed in a poncho.

Ok, so that’s all a lie. The point is, however, that there was something about this game that instantly captured my imagination and that has stayed with me since first playing it back in February 2006. This was the second game released by Team ICO on the Playstation 2 and is the spiritual successor to ICO, another arty wonder, and in my opinion it bests its predecessor in every way.

The game follows Wander and his pet pony Agro as they journey into the ‘Forbidden Land’ with the desperate hope of resurrecting Wander’s late love, Mono. Armed only with a bow and arrow, a magical glowing sword and bones made of elastic, our protagonist makes a pact with Dormin (a dubious deity) to destroy the 16 Colossi roaming the land and restore the maiden Mono to life.

It all sounds very run of the mill and clichéd at this point; kill the bosses using your mystical weapon and save the princess, but there is something much deeper and altogether more foreboding about the whole experience than your average adventure game. Even the intro cut-scene moves at such a solemnly slow pace that I’m sure it had many gamers hammering the X button to skip it and dive into the action. It's worth exercising patience though, as this game is a sight (and sound?) to behold.

Now, graphics have moved on a lot since 2006 and even the 2011 Playstation 3 HD remake looks worn and tired, but from an artistic perspective (which this blog is all about) resolution and frame rate can go hang so long as there is something striking or otherwise innovative about it.

With that in mind, the game looks great. The scenery is magical in a subtle way; there are no upside down waterfalls or sparkling rainbows, but you still get the sense of a looming and heavy force hanging over the whole of the forbidden land. The game is divided into two halves. 50% of your experience is navigating the (terrible) map and locating the Colossi, whilst the remainder has you fighting them. Both are equally breath-taking and awe inspiring in their own way. I’m going to deal with the orienteering aspect first.

The visuals speak for themselves

Using a beam of light reflected off your sword you are guided roughly towards your next Colossus. These journeys between bosses can last as long as 10 minutes. That sounds boring, but the splendour of the land drives you on. The diversity of the environments you encounter is quite broad, and whilst the map is huge you can cover a lot of ground with your trusty steed. You will gallop through grassland, canter through caves and trot through… erm… deserts? The sights are believable and striking (even if they are geographically somewhat spatially inaccurate).

Birds fly overhead and little lizards skitter about over the rocky cliffs but other than yourself, your horse and the 16 massive colossi roaming the land, you are totally and utterly alone. There are no mini battles, no random encounters, no side quests and no weapon shops. The vastness of the world Team ICO created is further augmented by the amazing musical score and sound effects composed by the exceptionally talented Kow Otani. The audio really adds to this isolated and occasionally oppressive aesthetic, and even when you’re riding slowing through dense peaceful forest with light filtering through the canopy to the floor below, you can never shake that feeling of loneliness.

Its genius really, because of the constant remoteness you quickly build an attachment to your horse Agro, who is both beautifully animated and tangibly realistic. If you stray too close to an edge Argo will refuse and the few gaps that can be jumped are done so with lifelike caution and calculation. Agro even sounds real and there are long portions of the game where the only noises you hear are that of his hoof falls and Wander’s encouraging ‘giddy-ups’. Agro will come when you call him and he's ferociously courageous during the game’s 16 boss encounters.

Which brings me on to the Colossi themselves.

Poor thing, hes just sleepy

These behemoths are the true stars of the show. The already fantastic audio steps up a notch during these boss encounters and the music shifts and changes depending upon your progress and/or proximity to the titans, really adding to the emersion of the whole affair. The Colossi look as if the ground itself has awoken, roots, moss and all, and whilst some of the giants appear enraged by this rude awakening, others just seem to want to go back to sleep. Some are enormous and lumbering whilst a couple are just larger than a bull. A handful of these monsters can even fly, despite their impossible size and others are entirely water based. All of them move with genuine purpose and are animated uniquely… or almost uniquely, there are a couple of re-skins later in the game, however the way each must be tackled is different.

The battles can almost be thought of as puzzles, and during a first play through, a player can expect to spend much of their time locating weak spots and learning the attack / defence patterns of the various colossi before ultimately climbing aboard and attempting the epic feat of slaying them for his own selfish ends.

And they are selfish ends. The Colossi are essentially the innocent victims in this game. They have done nothing wrong and are acting purely out of self-defence. Make no mistake, Wander may be driven by love and be pining after his dear Mono, he is even willing to risk everything to get her back, but he is still the bad guy here. These Colossi are as ancient as time itself and built for a very specific and desperately important purpose (which I will not spoil in this review) and yet Wander is willing to destroy them all to allow his girl to cheat death.

Infamous Colossus 13. My flat out favorite

You really get the feeling that you’re doing something morally wrong as each Colossus comes tumbling down. The forlorn music and the strange black mist that accompany each beast’s demise add to the growing sensation that perhaps you should have stayed well away from this land. It’s a credit to the game’s creators to have you mourning the loss of each Colossus.

I’m not going to ruin the game’s ending, but needless to say it’s the icing on the cake for me, forever cementing this game into my own personal top ten computer game experiences.

But is it art?

Visually inspiring, emotionally stirring, subtle and minimalistic gameplay with a haunting soundtrack that stays with you for years to come…

Verdict: ART

// Are Games Art?

The short answer to that question: Yes.

Yes they are… Or at least they can be…

In my opinion many games throughout the years have qualified as art. Albeit a new and interactive form of art, but art nonetheless.

Now I know I am not the first to make this point, in fact the 'Games as Art' debate has been raging for years, however being somewhat of a veteran in the field of sitting at home twiddling my thumbsticks, I have decided to lean forward and be counted.

Is this art? Probably not...

For me the question of 'are games art' was answered long ago with the likes of Castle of Illusion on the MegaDrive (that’s the Genesis if your of the American persuasion). The vibrant colours and inventive plinky-plonky music had me straight away and I would much rather have been inside exploring enchanted forests and toy factories than outside playing… ball foot? Football? Or whatever it is that young people are meant to enjoy.

Mouse + Cake Dragon = ART. Bearing in mind I was only 6.

I have been enchanted, amazed, moved and inspired by so many titles throughout the years that I have begun to lose count. And what else does a medium need to do in order to be classed as art other than convey emotion?

For me it is now only a question of which games qualify as art. Over the course of the coming weeks and months I am going to be taking valuable time out from what I’m meant to be doing in favour of reviewing some of my favourite games through history and posting on this blog.

Enjoy