Games of the Generation #3 - Portal

You will be baked, and then there will be cake

Subtlety is a rare quality in videogames. They're normally about the BANG CRASH WALLOP of throwing as much shit at the screen as possible and seeing what sticks. That's no bad thing, and has lead to quite a few of the games on this list. But occasionally, you'll see a game that realises less is more. Portal is that game. It's a masterclass in putting exactly what you need in exactly the places you need it.

The game's tendency to minimalism begins with its visual design, the spare blankness of the test chamber conjouring visions of an experimental design that was never meant for the public eye. Likewise, there's no plot, no character and no premise. Just you, a robot voice and a bunch of seemingly simplistic puzzles. All the buildup to the release of Portal had painted it as the odd one out in The Orange Box, a quirky throwaway experiment that was a mere tacked on bonus. It was a brilliant piece of misdirection.

The slow, creeping realisation that there may be more at stake here is the engine which drives the Portal experience, even as you marvel at the increasingly complexity and ingenuity of the chambers you're placed in. Valve expertly grows the mix of humour and looming dread, as the impeccably witty GladOS veers between jealousy, madness and insidious threats. From nothing more than an outstanding script and voice acting performance the game radiates personality, charm and wittiness. There's more personality within these blank walls than a thousand budget bloated blockbusters.

Having spent much of its brief runtime building up this weird world and relationship, the game's most memorable gambit is to tear it down completely. The moment you step behind the scenes it feels as if you really are escaping the script, becoming an agent of chaos in a perfectly planned system. That's daft because this segment is no less guided by Valve's all seeing eye than the others, yet it's a credit to the brilliance of the design and the build to the moment that it really does feel like a mad, cathartic moment of escape, climaxing in a showdown with your tormentor that's as funny as it is thrilling.

Perhaps the greatest testament to Portal's brilliance is that I can't think of a single thing I'd change about it. So brilliantly structured, so expertly paced is it that to do so would be sacrilege. Unlike almost every other game made, the parts fit together so smoothly you don't even notice they're there. It achieves the rare feat of being both artistically outstanding and mechanically ingenious. In short, it's the closest thing there's ever been to a perfect videogame. You might even say it was a triumph.