Don't Stop Believing |
The joy of playing Journey then is in its minimalism. This is a game without distractions like scores, weapons, or even any sort of interface. There's no barriers between you and the gorgeous, vivid world that thatgamecompany created, a wonderfully drawn environment that manages to feel alternately vast and intimate. The game possess a sense of wonder and discovery that very few pieces of entertainment period have managed to achieve. Though you're channelled towards a point, there's still a sense off freedom to take it slow, and drink in the sublime sights and sounds that surround you.
The desire for minimalism even extended to the game's 'multiplayer' which was less of a gameplay mechanic and more of a way to build stronger emotional connection to the adventure that you're on. Faceless, voiceless and nameless, these companions drifted through your experience, sometimes walking alongside you, sometimes striding away. Their presence was both broke and reinforced the illusion of loneliness, reminding you that while you appeared solitary, this was a goal many were striving for.
In the end, Journey does what all true art does, which is transcend its medium. You don't think of it as a game, and you don't critique it in those terms. Instead it's an experience, one given additional richness by its interactivity. An experience which spans the highs and lows of joy and sadness, fear and bravery. Through its heady wash of images, music, gameplay and (dare we say it) a touch of philosophy, Journey realised that ultimately, less is always more.
No comments:
Post a Comment