When people ask me what 'The Last of Us' is and why I recommend it so much, it's difficult to
express the impact it had on me and why I think they should really, really play
it. Ultimately - unfortunately, any game is going to be judged by sweeping
assumptions via the narrow scope of genre, setting and plot. Third-Person
survival horror, set in an apocalyptic world with zombies, where you have to
guide a female companion to safety. Resident Evil 4, Walking Dead and The Last
of Us come to mind. All similar thematically, all mechanically familiar, yet
all totally different.
Not that I prop award shows up as the be-all and end-all of
what deserves to be recognized in this industry, but when Last of Us won 'Most
Innovative' at DICE 2014 I was slightly taken aback. The general internet
consensus seems to be that it's not particularly a game that offers anything
new mechanically, yet what it does set out to do it excels at. Particularly the
strong emotional bond between the two leading characters who act as surrogate
father and daughter to each other. I
subscribed to this viewpoint for awhile, and chalked up the innovation award to
some panel judge consensus that maybe through its immense polish and superb structure
and characters it was perceived to be avant-garde. Fast forward to recently and
I finally get the chance to play Journey. I didn't have any expectations
besides it apparently being an amazing game, particularly in that it provides
an experience that really cannot be found anywhere else. When you're hearing
opinions off hand and people are trying to explain why something is so
important to them, I suppose sometimes words cannot ever do it justice. 'It's a
fantastic game' I kept hearing, so I guess I went in expecting groundbreaking
gameplay, but nothing else.
I ended up acquiring the same feelings for Journey as I did
for The Last of Us, the same bewilderment where I couldn't reconcile why it had
affected me so much despite its perceived simplicity. The gameplay itself
essentially amounted to a series of simple puzzles and platforming, but it was
more than that. The feeling of solemnity is strong in Journey, it exudes
through the lonely environments, the narrative and the implications that the
heavy responsibility of the world is propped entirely on your shoulders. It was
probably even stronger considering I played in a dark room, home alone, where
nothing could distract me and pull me from the screen.
And then a short while in, as I wander the solitary digital
desert, my pondering loneliness is utterly transformed. In the distance I see
someone else, wandering the dunes, just like me. My focus shifts and suddenly
the game isn't so much about the game itself and the ideas of rules and
objectives that come with that term, it's about this other player who's sharing
the exact same experience I just described. Instantly there is a connection, we
run towards each other and press the 'Circle' button to emote. It's the only
way for us to communicate; one button - the longer you press it the more
emotive the character on screen appears. There's nothing much else to discuss
then, so we go straight to figuring out the meaning of our digital existences.
There’s no denying the gameplay experience itself was
smooth, elating even. Gliding across vast landscapes and leaping effortlessly
from one point to another was a genuine joy. The kind of joy you can associate
with improving your understanding of the world's logic and of the skill required
to effortlessly traverse it. The true joy of the game though, is that other
player. It’s experiencing the genuine warmth, empathy and devotion of another
human being as you work together to experience this strange but familiar
journey. I won’t go into spoilerific details, but it’s no secret that Journey
is an allegory for life. So the way positive player to player interaction is
melded by the design to bring out the best in each other through 3 hours of
gameplay is a powerful message. I’m not sure a game has ever attempted it so
purposefully while executing it so perfectly. It was only when I watched the ‘Making of’ documentary
straight after completing it, when Creative Director Jenova Chen explained
something so simple I couldn't believe I hadn't realised it after 20 years of
consuming media.
Innovation doesn't have to be physical, or tangible. It
doesn't have to be a fancy new mechanic, or a new technical marvel. Games aren't
often regarded as emotionally stirring beyond happy, sad, angry and other primal
feelings. But if something can emotionally affect you so much that it causes you
to actually learn something about yourself or question your own very being...
that is an innovation award well deserved.
No comments:
Post a Comment