Review: Journey (PS3)

I used to persistently need the latest video games simply because I was driven to have the new thing.  Now, I'm content to wait months, even years after a game's release to pick it up, knowing I'll pay significantly less for it.  Despite this, I stay up to the minute on the ongoings of the game industry and see a renewed value in playing games upon release that have significant online integration or a collective sociocultural metagame.  The third-person wandering/jumping simulator, Journey, is one of those critical zeitgeist titles that not only has everyone playing, but also musing about.  In what has become a rare case for me, I actually got to spend a decent amount of time with a truly contemporary game; enough to play it through more than once and watch other people play as well.  It's a special game that strengthens and validates my convictions toward games as an artistic medium.

Journey is thatgamecompany's third PS3 game, and also their best.  You play as a robed figure with a glyph-laden scarf which determines how high you can jump based on its length.  The measure of your scarf can be increased by finding hidden glowy things throughout the world.  Other than that, the basic task is to explore the sand-covered landscape, traversing platforms toward a shining mountain top that seems many miles away.  If online, sometimes another human player will join your game and play along, but you don't have to stay together if you don't want to.  There are a few pitfalls and some light puzzle solving, but the bulk of what makes Journey special is what it does with this seemingly bare-bones design.

The easiest parallel between Journey and works from a different creative medium is film.  I can't think of another title that has executed cinematic gameplay to such a loyal extent as Journey.  Given 2011's proclivity towards silent film, the comparisons are all the easier.  Journey contains no dialogue, just chirp tones that can be used for communicating with an anonymous online partner.  Much like Melie's fantastical works, thatgamecompany created a world of constant visual wonderment: a cinematographer's utopia.  You have control over the camera most of the time, but at key moments the game takes over.  This could be to show a particular action sequence from a flattering angle where the sunlight optimally beams through archways making your sandy path glisten, or to frame the mountain top that serves a your destination in a way that makes it seem ever-distant.  The game's duration is on par with a typical full-length feature, making replays feel like rewatching a beloved film out of your home video collection.  You know how the plot goes, but it's exciting when your favorite scenes pop up again.

The multiplayer component of Journey seems like the kind of mechanic that would be at odds with this cinematic flair, but it actually supports it.  Because players' interactions are so limited, there's no way to grief your partner that will ruin their experience.  You could chirp a lot, which would be strange, but there's even a stage in the game where that ability is all but shuttered.  At worst you could attempt to leave the other player in the dust or simply disable the online feature.  At best you make your way through Journey and complete it as a twosome.  There's something to be said for playing Journey solo.  It's a solemn, contemplative experience: quiet and a little sad.  As a pair, there are plenty of scenarios that, ironically, I can best describe as dialogues:

"Wait up."
"OK, I'll stay here."

"Let's do this."
"I'm ready."

"This is crazy!"
"I know!"

"Where did you go?"
"Over here.  Coast is clear."

"Hello?"
"..."

"There's something down there."
"Follow me."

"Oh man, this is it."
"Let's go together."

The way in which I generated theses words in my mind is akin to writing speaking parts for characters in a painting.  Imagine Seurat's Sunday Afternoon where you get to play as the pet monkey.  If only a phoenix made of ribbons would emerge out of the water.  The point is that Journey stirs your imagination, during play, to fill in the gaps it purposefully creates with its minimalist approach.  I haven't played another game that does that.  You build a relationship with the other character making completion of the game's trails more emotionally resonant than the solo experience.

I've noticed a number of critics not just reviewing the game, but recounting their playthrough(s) of Journey, as if there's significant variation in the stories to tell.  I mean, how different could they be from mine?  It's not like Journey has MMO levels of complexity to its online interactions and player agency, yet people are compelled to spin their personal tales.  I only refrained myself because I've seen so many other writers touch on the subject, and people are saying rather similar things.  Surely this is an intended outcome of the game's design, making the player feel like they've taken on some sort of trek, albeit virtual, that had them invested enough in the game world to empathize and identify with the characters.  Are some players just being sentimental or is Journey designed to evoke sentimentality from those willing to participate in the silent melodrama?  For me, it's the latter.

Part of what makes Journey open to these types of responses is that it limits the number of technical hiccups that could possibly break the mood, shifting the focus on the characters literal forward progress.  The action moves with a serene fluidity, allowing you to build momentum and glide along with an exaggerated tangibility that feels just superhuman enough.  My main gripe with thatgamecompany's previous title, Flower, was how much time I spent missing my targets and having to stop and slowly turn around, with only the Sixaxis controls at my disposal.  With Journey, not only are motion controls optional, but when speeds do ramp up you can simply enjoy engaging with the slope instead of having to meet some objective all the while.  The resulting achievement is that moment-to-moment gameplay in Journey maintains a consistency in your character's relationship to the world and keeps players' attentions focused on those interactions.

At the end of Journey, the game tells you the usernames of the actual humans you played with, which is the right amount of metadata to allow into this game, and presented at the right time.  It's as if the game knows you could be about to disconnect with its world, and pulls you in one last time to say, "Yes, you just finished a video game, but something real happened here."  My reaction to this was to press "start" and do it all again.

Review: Kirby's Epic Yarn (Wii)

So, I was just about to head to the fabric store when I got a message from my friend Zeke; he said he wanted to come over to my place and hangout.  I briefly popped in at the fabric shop and picked up some new patterns before taking the short walk to my apartment.  When I got there, Zeke flew in, paid some compliments to my interior decoration and then pleasantly milled about the space.  I decided this would be a great photo opportunity seeing as I just reupholstered my couch and carefully balanced a trio of pizzas on top of the piano.  I snapped the picture which I suppose I could've kept forever, stored somewhere on the Wii's internal memory.  These Animal Crossing-like circumstances are actually just an aside to the main quest in Kirby's Epic Yarn, but ones that allowed me to literally invest in the game world (with fake in-game currency, mind you).

Kirby's 2010 adventure transports Nintendo's pink cream puff to an enthreaded world of fabric, seams, and buttons.  Instead of inhaling enemies and stealing their abilities, Kirby has a lasso that he can use to unravel his foes.  The lasso is a multifunctional tool that is also used to traverse across the patchwork 2D levels, swinging from buttons, pulling open zippered compartments, and ripping off tabs to reveal hidden items.  The world plays like an exquisitely designed playground.  Individual levels offer a breezy play-space where the largest penalty is having to regather collectible beads strewn around you after getting hit or falling down a hole.  There's something very Montessori about the whole experience.

Accordingly, Epic Yarn has a very kid-friendly visual style that probably makes it appealing to the early childhood set, but shouldn't dissuade adult players from diving in too.  I prefer to think of the game not as "for kids" but rather of a childlike aesthetic akin to a Michel Gondry video.  If the gameplay fell into the overly simplistic and repetitive realm of something like Dora the Explorer where characters pedantically beat mechanics and clues into you until you can recite them backwards and in Spanish, then there wouldn't be anything to vouch for in Epic Yarn on behalf of adults.  Thankfully, this is definitely not the case.  There is challenge in this game, though it is by no means "hard," and most of the trickier parts are optional.  The ease with which Kirby's Epic Yarn opens the world to your availability is one of its greatest assets.

The amount of time I have available for playing games is nowhere near where it used to be, and somehow this "kids" game really understands and accommodates that.  The game's levels are built on a hub system quite similar to Kirby's Adventure (a franchise favorite of mine), allowing you to pop in and run through in short bursts.  The collectibles and medal awards make for impulse retries if you miss something the first time around.  Achieving gold medals and completing side quest challenges are not necessary to progress in the game, but exist for the player seeking to maximize value out of it.  This material is not padding though; individual challenges, issued by tenants of Kirby's apartment building, are clever puzzles that offer something for the player wary of a game without death states.  Tasks like carrying ball-shaped creatures from one end of a level to another within a time limit push you to engage with individual mechanics from the main game in unique scenarios that showcase just how smoothly even the tiniest details have been executed.  The cherry on top is the super friendly UI that lets you hop around the hub world with ease and bring in a 2nd player at the beginning of any level.

Speaking of the co-op player, let's just take a moment to give new character Prince Fluff his due.  My understanding is that this game was originally being developed as a new IP, but creators were made to transform it into a Kirby game.  Nothing against the pink cream puff, but Prince Fluff is really an awesome character design; he's basically a blue, playfully peeved-looking version of Kirby with a sweet crown on his head.  Even though I played through almost all of this game solo, Fluff's existence strongly incentivised me to give co-op a fair shake.  Playing Epic Yarn with another person is probably the ideal way to go since it changes some of Kirby's super powers in interesting ways and means Prince Fluff is always hanging around.

Despite my enthusiasm for this new character, I was surprised by how much Kirby fan service actually resonated with me.  The game makes callbacks to its franchise history effortlessly, peppering recognizable enemies, music, and items throughout (moreso in the final stretch), in a way that co-opts them into Epic Yarn's world rather than relying on nostalgic winks and nods.  Yes there's a cyclops lightning cloud at some point, but it's presented in a matter-of-fact way.  There is a rich world here with some historical backstory probably, but not in a way that's important to enjoying the core gameplay or following the narrative.  This nonchalance made me care about the realm of Dreamland even more since it allowed me to become invested in it through playing instead of being shown outright that I'm supposed to care.

Nintendo has increasingly used Kirby as an outlet to experiment with some out-there, ingenious game mechanics, and Kirby's Epic Yarn is yet another successful turn for the amoebic mascot.  The only disservice of that statement is that it makes the game sound like a bit of an test subject: an interesting concept awaiting implementation in a "full title" somewhere down the line.  Kirby's Epic Yarn is a fully realized vision; the trial and error has been worked out prior.  I have no disclaimers, no excuses, and no reservations about recommending anyone with a Wii play this game.  It's simply one of the most consistently satisfying games of recent memory.