Click nothing to begin. It's obvious from that very first screen of Depict1 that you can't do what you're told if you want to progress. But what or who are you disobeying, and what exactly should you be doing instead? You'll need puzzle-solving wits along with platforming fingers to complete this thought-provoking game by Miroslav Malesevic, porting the original downloadable game by Kyle Pulver to Flash.
Ordinarily, this is the part where I'd blah blah blee at you about the controls, but not this time. Just learning how to move is a puzzle in this game. The voice tells you to use the [arrow] keys, but I'll save you some time and tell you they don't do anything. What other common keyboard control scheme is used for platform gaming? Not very difficult to figure out, right? Okay, how about this helpful instruction from the voice: "Press space to Jump." From that, can you figure out what key it actually is? If so, great; if not, experimenting a little won't hurt you much, since if you die in this game, you're only ever sent back to the beginning of the current level, and levels are fairly brief.
Figuring out the controls is only the beginning of the trickery in this game, which is appropriate, since the original game was created for the "deception" themed 2010 Global Game Jam. The goals of the levels may also not be what they seem. Put on your backwards thinking cap, because more often than not, what would be a help in an ordinary platformer is a hindrance, and vice versa. However, you eventually get to levels where there's no obvious reverse of the "right" answer. What should you do if you only know what not to do? That's the key to this game.
Loved
Loved by Alexander Ocias is a short platformer about... well, that's up to you. The game controls with the [arrow] keys, and from time to time you're given choices you can make simply by clicking on words on the screen. A voice follows you throughout the game, instructing you to do various things (or not), and whether you obey affects both your possible ending and the world around you.
So in essence the game boils down to deciding whether to question the directives you're given. Typically if you disobey, the game frowns on you for it. The whole thing has a very stark and unsettling presentation, and this was probably a smart choice; with its minimal design, Loved provides a blank canvas for you to project your own emotions and thoughts onto. Considering Ocias claims he wanted to make something "confrontational", letting players draw their own conclusions and experiences was the best decision to make. Of course, this does mean that people who aren't interested in introspection are going to look at it and wonder what all the fuss is about; Loved is extremely short, and not particularly difficult, and even a few playthroughs will take less than ten minutes.
Loved is also interesting in that I took two possible meanings from it, and one I really disliked. I've seen people "explaining" the game to other players, and I'm not sure I think that's the right thing to do; after all, if I feel one way about something designed to provoke a personal reaction and you feel another, does that mean one of us really needs to be right in our interpretations? Which in turn raises another interesting question. Is art only successful if it explains itself to everyone? If everyone "gets it" or loves it? Or is it still a success if just one person in the whole world looks at it and catches their breath? As a game, Loved is a relatively simple and straightforward platformer. Whether it's something else, something important, largely depends on how you look at it.
Air Pressure
What happens when infatuation becomes complacency? Or dependence? You take on the role of a young man having doubts about his current relationship, and whether it really is what he wants out of his life. Air Pressure, a short visual novel by Bento Smile, might be a simple story about falling out of love... or something else entirely.
It's not exactly a cheery game by any means. In fact, it's barely even a game at all. While it lacks the outright morbid feel present in, say, Every Day The Same Dream, if you draw certain conclusions about the subtext present in the game it starts to feel more and more like you're peering uncomfortably through a window into a particularly rocky chapter in someone else's life. You play by clicking to advance text on the screen, and clicking to choose from one of two responses or actions whenever the opportunity arises. There are three endings possible depending on your interactions with the female lead, and telling which one is "good" and which is "bad" isn't quite as obvious as it might seem.
Do yourself a favour and play this game without reading the impressions of other players first. Once you know what's happening, making the connections is fairly easy, but it's interesting to play the game with a clear perspective and see if you draw the same conclusions others seem to be making about the scant plot. From a purely technical standpoint, Air Pressure is a competent, if relatively unremarkable, example of the visual novel genre; the pixelated look along with the limited interaction puts you in mind of the days of monochrome, handheld gaming. It's well written, but the problem is that gamers looking for something "just" entertaining will probably be dissatisfied with the short, simple presentation and heavy symbolism. It's an abstract little bit of work hiding underneath a very light appearance.
Introspective narratives in gameplay are becoming more and more popular as a form of expression, and you either like them or you don't. Air Pressure is quite a bit less open to interpretation than some, and serves as a snapshot of life and choices that may hold more meaning for some people than others.
Looming
Gregory Weir's Looming is one of those things that make you go hmmmm. You play September, a traveler drawn to a mysterious place called (surprise!) Looming; a newly discovered land littered with strange monuments and artifacts. You pen letters to your beloved January whenever you start or end another foray into the world (basically, whenever you leave the realm and come back) that seem to describe a deepening obsession. What is this place? Who was here before you? What does it all mean? Is it artsy? Hohyes. And, in typical fashion for Mr Weir, there's hidden meaning in everything, and a surprisingly intriguing story behind it all... if you manage to find it.
Control is very simple, using the [arrow] keys to move around, [C] to display your collection of items, and [X] to interact with things. Portals, which look like fiery rings, lead back to the "real world", presumably, and mark an end to your travels... at least, until you start the game again. Progress is automatically saved for you, so you can stop and pick up at any point you wish.
The goal is essentially to unravel the mystery behind Looming which is easier said than done. The land is vast, but striking out in any direction will yield something worth investigating. Certain items or obelisks may give you explicit directions on where to go, or they might just provide hints and clues to the backstory of the game. Just keep your eyes peeled for winking points of light on the ground that could be bits of a civilization's remnants, or... something else.
New from Gregory Weir, eternally inventive creator of The Majesty of Colours, comes the enigmatic and unsettling Bars of Black and White. It is an escape game, but the point is not to escape the room; it is a social commentary—or maybe it's really just an exploration of one person's mind? The possible interpretations are endless, which is assuredly what Weir intended. One thing is certain, however: you'll leave the game with far more questions than answers.
You begin on your couch in your apartment. Everything initially looks normal enough, though you're a bit confused…when was the last time you went out? You can't even remember. Soon, with the arrival of a very special device, the true surreal nature of your situation becomes apparent. I think that this is definitely a game best played with as few preconceived notions as possible, so while I'd love to expound upon my own ideas of what the game represents, I'll let you develop your own.
Gameplay is simple and intuitive point-and-click, with only a couple of items to collect and one or two fairly easy puzzles. The simple but not sloppy line drawing-type graphics perfectly enhance the game's mood; they hover on the boundary of the real and the imagined, much like the game's protagonist. Weir has done everything right, and Bars of Black and White is truly compelling and emotionally evocative.
Time to escape...but into what?
Coil
Coil is a game unlike any other; it may confuse you, it may offend you, or it might mystify and move you. It is the latest from Edmund McMillen and Florian Himsl, the duo whose previous collaboration brought us a game called Triachnid.
The authors suggest carrying an open mind with you as you adventure within their creation, discovering for yourself the artistic expression they have conceived. Once you have played through the experience it offers, come back, read what we have here and discuss your conception of the game in the comments.
If you wish to know more, Coil is a short series of mini-games involving the gestation of what appears to be an alien fetus, from initial insemination through adulthood when a murky twilight leaves its fate in question and the cycle starts anew. The text between chapters is equally vague, like detached poetry that gives clues as to how to play, and yet it also suggests a possibly darker subtext to why the impregnation happened in the first place.
The game perhaps gives an idea of what this alien primal consciousness might be like, and it tells this story through exquisite art work and tight programming. Like other games from Komix, Coil features a distinctly illustrative look coupled with unusual mechanics, but he takes that kind of experimentation further, much further. If you aren't put off by its non-traditional interaction or it's chilling implications, you may have the first really meaningful game experience of this year.
Gameplay generally involves moving the mouse in circles, as clued by the initial title screen, with some exceptions. That's all I can really say without ruining the exploration. Sometimes an experience generates only strong positive or negative responses, nothing in between. And maybe that's a sign of real art, not good or bad, just distinct.
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quite a lot of shit written here!!!
(poate ca voi incerca cateva joace)
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