Tag: platformer

Celeste – Ain’t No Mountain High Enough

Posted on by in Gaming

I’m always wary of games that try to personify mental illness or negative thoughts. The idea of putting a face or a name to this… other part of me, this darker part of me, instinctively makes me recoil. Not in disgust or hatred, but in deep-rooted fear. Society as a whole has been gradually improving when it comes to tolerance and acceptance of mental health conditions such as depression and anxiety, but we are still so far from truly understanding what it is like for each individual that suffers from them. Heck, I barely understand my own conditions and it’s been over a decade. Plus, considering some of the more toxic representations of mental health that use it as an excuse for cruel actions, I tend to walk into games that claim to be better with a bit of a chip on my shoulder.

When I was in primary school, I learnt a life lesson that I still carry with me to this day. Though in hindsight, it’s not always the best idea. When a feeling is uncomfortable or debilitating, such as nausea when you are unwell, to focus on it is to give it more control over you. I’ve carried this idea over to my daily battles with my mental health conditions, not allowing an anxiety attack or depression dip to consume me and ruin whatever I had going on at the time. However, there is a fine line to walk between not overly focusing on something and refusing to acknowledge it at all. Coping mechanisms and suppression do not go hand in hand as anyone who’s hit their breaking point will be well aware of. Exploring that balance is something that the game Celeste does well.

I’m never going on a ski lift. NEVER.

If you listened to my panel for EGX Digital back in 2020, you’d know that the game Celeste was thoroughly recommended by the panel members. Despite this, I only actually got around to playing the game for myself a few months ago after an extremely long day at work. Putting aside the several moments of overwhelming rage that I experienced whilst playing through the game (LOOKING AT YOU B SIDE), Celeste is a platformer with a tale to tell, driven around a central goal of reaching the summit of Celeste Mountain.

An average Tuesday.

You play as Madeline, a young woman from Canada who suffers from anxiety and depression. For unknown reasons, she has travelled to Celeste Mountain with the goal of reaching the summit to prove to herself that she can. Given how insanely dangerous the mountain can be to those not prepared for it, her family and those she encounters on her way are understandably concerned about her wellbeing. Considering the very first bridge collapses and she’s only saved by a dash ability taught to her by a random bird perched nearby, the stakes are pretty high. Shortly after meeting Theo (a lovely guy who is an influencer and takes terrible selfies of Madeline), you come across a mysterious mirror in the ruins that summons a “evil” clone of Madeline, called Part Of Me (or Badeline to the community).

To Madeline, this clone seems to be the embodiment of everything wrong with her – her selfishness, her anger, her self-loathing. If I’m honest, that’s how I viewed my “dark side” to begin with. When you have such a dark cloud hanging over your every action, you’re desperate to separate it from you, to treat it as an entity that has no ties to you. Madeline initially believes that she would be better off without her and seeks for a way to destroy Part Of You entirely. It’s a sentiment that I think anyone with a condition like anxiety or depression has pondered in their lifetime. Yet, like Madeline, we have to realise that this darkness, this negativity, is as much a part of us as the fingers on our hands are.

Please ma’am, get back inside the text box.

More than anything, Celeste is a powerful metaphor for self-discovery. Regardless of whether you’re coming to terms with a loss, facing up to your inner demons or gaining the courage to come out to those you love, Celeste emphasizes the imperfect nature of humanity. We stumble, we make mistakes, we are stubborn and desperate for a future that is always slightly out of reach. Yet, we get back up. Sure, Madeline falls down the mountain, further than she had ever fallen before but she gets back up. Even in the darkest of pits, there is always a distant light to climb towards. If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Considering how many times I died in Celeste (cough, 3298), this determination can take us far. That’s the thing about mountains, when you’re stood at the bottom, they seem so insurmountable, too large a challenge for you to even hope to complete. Yet with each checkpoint and each rung of the ladder than you step onto, you get that bit closer.

As much as I detest my brain with it’s lack of serotonin and tendency to catastrophize literally everything (for example, the other day when I left the house to go to work, my brain went “did you leave the gas on, are your cats in danger because of it”. I have no gas line connected to my flat. WHAT EVEN BRAIN.), I have to admit that it has made me a better person. I work harder, study more and empathize better with those around me, desperate to put some of that light into the world that I struggle to find on my darkest days. I wouldn’t be CaitlinRC, creator of MindGames / Dice and Suffering, community member and proud non-binary asexual without the conditions and life events that have brought me to this point. Sure, there was a lot I would do differently if I’d had the benefit of hindsight but at this point in time, I’m ok. Sometimes, ok is the best you can hope for.

Sometimes a mountain doesn’t have a summit. Sometimes, you’ll be climbing for the rest of your life. I know that I will be living with my depression and anxiety for the rest of my life. Sure, therapy and medication have helped make the day-to-day existence more bearable and the PTS dreams have lessened over time, but there’s no “cure” for this. We need to accept that’s ok, that it’s fine to not have a cure, a quick fix for everything. Sure, I fell down the mountain a good way over the last few months. However, as long as I shake myself off, brush myself down and keep climbing, then eventually I’ll reach a point that I’m content with. After all, those who climb Everest don’t all strive to reach the summit. Some are happy with reaching the base camp.

Everything looks better from the top.

Anyways, that’s all I have for you this week. It’s been a while since I’ve written one of these so I’m pacing myself to avoid smashing face first into the writer’s block brick wall that I’ve been smushed against for all these months. Be sure to check out the podcast series, launched as Dice and Suffering – where my D&D campaign and the brand new Blades In The Dark series is being published.

You’re doing your best, that’s all that matters.

CaitlinRC

A Juggler’s Tale – I Got No Strings…

Posted on by in Gaming

As a kid, my only real exposure to puppets was through the joyful “sooty show.” That is one of the most niche references I have ever made on this site, but it was a puppet show targeted at young children, starring a yellow hand-puppet bear called sooty and his friends. They had a TV show and everything. Small Caitlin loved it. Marionette’s (stringed puppets) always felt a bit… uncanny valley to me but the engineering part of my brain was fascinated by them. The ability to manipulate and study individual sections of the puppet as it moved, to see the ripple effect it would have on the rest of the joints – it was remarkably educational.

Despite the interest in puppets and marionettes that has followed me since early childhood, I absolutely detest mascot costumes. Seriously, they could be hiding anything in there. Part of my anxiety against these people who are just doing their jobs is the fact that they are hidden from sight deliberately. I am a naturally paranoid person due to my anxieties, so when I cannot see someone’s eyes or face to read social cues from, I am immediately uneasy. This distaste for mascots was very visible to the Game Junkiez gang at EGX when I fled from a Fall Guy mascot who I was fairly sure was targeting me directly (nearly mugged by a bean, that would be a new experience).

This weird love of puppets, fascination with marionettes and hatred of mascots, has more often than not warded me away from games that include any of the above. You often do not find one of the trios without the others following close behind (ready to steal your soul, I SEE YOU MASCOT BOY). However, whilst at EGX in October, I followed my friend Kerry over to try a game called “A Juggler’s Tale” that they had been extremely excited to try out. We got to play the opening level, which followed the player meeting the protagonist Abby, a young juggler in a circus, forced to perform during the day and locked away at night. You learn to maneuver through the world, learning how to avoid getting your strings tangled up in obstacles. Needless to say, I was intrigued.

That’s the way to do it!

Once Abby escapes the circus, she goes on the run through the wilderness, trying to avoid the hunters that the ringmaster has sent to track her down. These bandits, led by the fearsome Tonda, are a constant threat to Abby – forcing the player to think ahead, move stealthily and be bold in order to escape their clutches. Like Abby, they are connected to the world via strings and are under the control of Jack – the puppet master, storyteller, and creator of the world that we are exploring. He narrates the events in rhyming couplets, providing the player with key information of upcoming hazards and clues to puzzles. At least to begin with.

Based in southern Germany, kaleidoscube, the developers of the game, were unable to be there in person at EGX but we got to speak to them via Discord to ask about what inspired to make such a unique game. One of the publishing team explained to us that dark fairytales (such as Brothers Grimm) and puppet shows are incredibly common in Germany, being a staple of German children’s childhood experiences since as early as the 1950’s. An example of this is the “Augsburger Puppenkiste,” a famous marionette theatre in Augsburg that has been putting on performances for decades. Given these cherished childhood memories shared by the development team, it is no surprise that the amount of love and care put into A Juggler’s Tale is visible in every frame.

I love this bear.

This is a beautiful game. Honestly, any frame of this game could be put up as a painting in a gallery and I would not bat an eye. Every environment is alive with detail and beauty, be that the gentle swaying of the crop fields as you run through them at sunset or the view of the town from the rooftops as you dance across them. The environment is a clever mixture of painted set pieces (I mean that most literally) and fairytale backdrops, maintaining a careful balance between a puppet show’s artificial stage and a storybook. Nothing is wasted, everything has a purpose. Something creeps in the background? You will meet it later on. Is that a hunter is scanning the forest with his lamp? Tonda and his bandits must be getting close.

Gorgeous. Too gorgeous in fact… makes me suspicious.

As Jack tells his story to the eager tavern of listeners, their reactions to events as they unfold function as ambient sound. They cheer when Abby escapes, grow quiet in moments of tension and shout warnings when danger looms – helping maintain the live puppet show atmosphere that the game has been building from the beginning. Jack’s rhythmic weaving of his tale pairs nicely with the music as you hop across streams and clamber over walls. Ignoring the tense moments where you sprint away from hunters, swearing profusely and praying to uncaring deities for assistance, it is a remarkably relaxing experience.

Available on Xbox, PlayStation, Nintendo switch and PC, A Juggler’s Tale is a story of freedom. It is about overcoming obstacles – both those thrown at you from others, and those that have been set upon you by the world. I highly recommend that you play it yourself, it is a short experience that you can knock out in an evening. I am going to go into detail about some story points that I connected with, so if you want to be completely spoiler free, run away! Bookmark the article and come back once you have played the game through. Still here? Good. Let us chat.

Look at the strings in the distance. That’s Tonda’s gang. That’s attention to detail.

Putting aside the chase sequences, puzzles and platforming that make up the core gameplay of A Juggler’s Tale, this game is about freedom of choice. In the first few chapters, Abby’s flight from the ringmaster is a series of scripted events, carefully crafted by Jack to tell his story. Your strings are an ever-present reminder of your powerlessness against the grand tapestry of fate that Jack has weaved for Abby. Her capture and return to the circus appear inevitable, with Jack able to pick Abby up by her strings and maneuver her if he chooses to. Yet, there are brief moments of rebellion that indicate a deviation from her fate.

What a good dog.

Shortly before you encounter the hunters, you come across an old wolf – whose strings are attached to some sort of post. Jack demands that you abandon the creature to its fate and keep moving but you can choose not to. One way of solving the puzzle of the cart blocking your path is to attach the cart to the strings and allow gravity to pull the cart out of your way – snapping the strings tethering the wolf to the world at the same time. It is a moment where Jack loses his patience with you, pulling you into the air and demanding that you obey him, or he will retract his help. It seems odd at first why would the storyteller need to bargain with those he controls? Unless… he does not have complete authority over them? If you can snap someone else’s strings, why not your own?

This train of thought comes to fruition at the end of the third act, when all hope seems lost. Abby’s locked in a cage, waiting to be taken back to the ringmaster. Jack laments her last moments of freedom, only to be stopped by Abby breaking free of her imprisonment, setting the barn she was being kept in ablaze. When her strings get caught on the doorway, it seems that it was all in vain – poor Abby is trapped as the blaze creeps towards her. Jack holds her strings in place as the flames lick at her feet, proclaiming the so called “story’s end,” only to watch in rage and horror as Abby refuses to go quietly.

One by one, she snaps the strings that tether her to the world, ripping the control of her fate from Jack’s hands and taking it into her own hands for the first time. The moment he loses control over “his” puppet, Jack becomes the antagonist, with the rest of the story focusing on Abby thwarting Jack’s desperate attempts to regain control of her autonomy. Then again, to a protagonist of a story, the storyteller is the true enemy. After all, they are the one who holds your fate in their hands. When you regain control of Abby, the lyrical nature and pre-planned lines of Jack have vanished along with her strings. Everything is new and unpredictable. Sure, the world may be of his creation but now Jack has no influence over what path Abby takes through it.

Often, we have to take fate into our own hands.

Abby’s lack of strings quickly becomes her strongest asset (that and her remarkably good throwing arm), allowing her to duck under obstacles and slip away from her pursuers with ease. They are still tied down by their strings and restricted by her old limitations, limitations with which she is intimately familiar. Eventually, Tonda is defeated by removing all of his strings, severing the control that Jack has over the world entirely, allowing Abby to free the residents of the world she calls home from their bindings and reunite with a dear friend.

There are so many lenses that you can look at this story through. I do not know whether the developers intended it but the idea of casting off the strings that tie you down is a refreshing one. To me, it feels like the story of someone choosing their own path in life, rather than the one that had been set out before them. To others, it could be a tale of acceptance, accepting who you are and carving out a new identity with your newfound confidence. To you, it could be the tale of someone escaping a toxic relationship or friendship, removing the ties that kept you together and working through the negativity they left you with. Art is subjective.

Letting go is hard. But not impossible.

This got remarkably profound, didn’t it? Guess that is what happens when I write an article by lamp light. November will be a tad chaotic for me, as I am finalizing the purchase of my new flat and moving in, as well as my job and cats. so, not much different from our normal upload schedule to be honest.

Hope you enjoyed and be sure to check out the game, as well as support the developers (kaleidoscube).

CaitlinRC

GRIS – So Beautiful It Should Be Illegal:

Posted on by in Gaming

So, a few days ago, I had hit a bit of a writer’s block. I wasn’t sure what game I wanted to talk about, so I reached out on Twitter to you guys (@OurMindGames) for any suggestions. Out of the many awesome suggestions I got from you guys, one really grabbed my attention. It was a game called GRIS, an artistic platformer that had been on my radar for a little while. People have spoken very highly of its visuals, soundtrack and powerful message – so needless to say, it seemed right up my alley. As I’m currently prepping to go back to university for my final year, I have some free time on my hands, so I decided to dedicate an afternoon to trying out GRIS. That afternoon quickly morphed into the rest of the day, until around 9 PM that evening when the credits rolled, and I sat back in my chair – stunned into silence.

The story of GRIS isn’t clearly laid out to the player. It’s told through imagery, visualization, and symbolism that will leave you pondering it’s meaning hours after you put it down. At its core, it’s a puzzle platformer. The further you progress through the game, the more abilities you unlock, which allows you to progress to new areas. It’s a fairly linear experience so you don’t worry too much about getting lost, however, the game does encourage you to explore each area to its fullest – with the key to moving on often being tucked away in a hidden cave or up a series of complex jumps. It’s a game that rewards you for taking your time and looking around, which as a completionist is a very satisfying experience.

This is your protagonist. Though you could argue, you are the real protagonist.

When the game starts, you see a young girl lying in the hand of a statue – seemingly asleep. She awakes and begins to sing, gradually rising into the air when suddenly her voice just stops. Without her voice, the statue crumbles and you are powerless to watch as she plummets to the ground, a seemingly desolate place devoid of the beautiful colours of the sky above. To start with, she can barely walk without crumpling to the ground, gradually regaining her strength and abilities as the game goes on. You collect tiny stars that form little constellations, allowing you to cross gaps and restore colour to the world around you. Each colour you restore opens another section – e.g. unlocking blue restores water to the world, enabling underwater exploration.

Honestly, you could fill an art museum with screenshots of this game, and nobody would question it, as this game is visually stunning. The artists behind this game manage to make even the simplest of colour schemes and landscapes beautiful. When you combine that with the haunting soundtrack, this game is best experienced in a room by yourself, on a big screen. I played it on my switch but honestly, it deserves a fully equipped cinema with surround sound and a ginormous screen to truly appreciate every titbit of detail and love that has gone into crafting this game. The game itself is not very long, it took me about 4 hours on and off to finish a playthrough, including a twenty-minute puzzle section that I was just too dumb to realize the simple solution to.

How is possible to be this gorgeous a game, I’m just saying!

What I really want to talk about though, is what I feel the story behind this game is. As there are only a few little cutscenes and the closest we get to any exposition from the character herself is through song, it’s mostly about how you choose to interpret it. The achievements list gives you a hint towards the game’s true meaning – specifically those related to each “Stage” or chapter of the game. I didn’t notice this until the final chapter when I popped an achievement called “Stage 5 – Acceptance”. This achievement and its counterparts all refer to stages from the Kubler-Ross model, which talks about the five stages we go through when we are grieving. Let me explain each stage and its corresponding achievement in GRIS:

Stage 1: Denial – Often our first reaction is to deny that anything is wrong as if pretending it doesn’t exist will reduce the pain later. In the first chapter of GRIS, you start out barely able to walk – collapsing to your knees frequently and struggling to stand up again. Most players will get GRIS to stand back up, but if you leave the controller and let her stand up again on her own – this stage of the model will be fulfilled, as she herself denies that anything is wrong.

Devoid of colour and life, the world seems to be crumbling around you.

Stage 2: Anger – When we are upset, often we internalize that pain and instead lash out at others. When you are hurting, sometimes you feel like that nobody understands the pain you are in and that the only way to lessen the pain you are in is to inflict it upon others. During the second chapter of GRIS, you gain the “heavy” ability which allows you to smash through unstable objects and destroy various statues/pots scattered around the world. This ability is a clear manifestation of that second stage of grief, which the achievement emphasizes as when you destroy three specific statues, you get the “anger” popup.

When the world tries to knock you down, keep pushing on through.

Stage 3: Bargaining – “Don’t you think after all this time, and everything I have ever done, that I am owed this one?” – The Doctor in the Snowmen, Season 7 of Doctor Who. This quote sums up the bargaining stage of grief for me. We feel that we are owed something, that we deserve better than our current situation presents. That maybe, just maybe, the world will take pity on us and provide that little bit of hope. We beg for it, trying to barter with chips that have no real worth anymore, even though we know deep down that it won’t work. In GRIS’s case, this is seen when you come across a statue in the forest chapter. Her first reaction to it when you try to interact is to sing to it, despite her voice still being gone. She is trying to barter with something that isn’t there anymore.

If you don’t learn to accept things, it’ll weigh you down forever.

Stage 4: Depression – I think the use of the underwater section for this stage is remarkably clever. Often, we describe depression as sinking under the waves, falling further and further from the light that we so desperately try to cling to. In my case, it often feels like a heavyweight is attached to my ankle, slowly tugging me downwards no matter how hard I resist it.  In order to get this achievement in GRIS, you must seek out the statue hidden in the darkness. This section is pitch black and finding this hidden cavern is not easy, as its surroundings are full of creeping darkness that threatens to consume you. That statue is of a woman, seemingly sinking down into the inky depths, like how you fell from the sky at the beginning of the game.

We all sink into the darkness sometimes. We just need to keep pushing back to the light.

Stage 5: Acceptance – After retrieving your voice and escaping the shrouding darkness, you come across a tomb on the remains of the land. In this tomb is a statue, lying down, still and quiet. If you sing to it, the acceptance achievement pops. Although it doesn’t seem like much at the time, to me it reminds me of the songs you sing at funerals. In those moments, you can hear the whirling mix of emotions in everyone’s voices – grief, joy, longing and hope all mingling together as one. It’s a haunting yet powerful experience to be a part of, whether they were your close family, a good friend or just an acquaintance.

To me, this game is a tale of grief and loss. Now, this is just my interpretation, but I think that our young protagonist has just lost her mother. To me, the start of the game seems to be the moment that the loss truly hits her and her whole world crumbles around it, losing all the joy, colour and structure that her mother brought to it. Often when we lose someone, we feel like a part of ourselves has been ripped from us, like a missing limb or a hole in your once full heart. In GRIS’s case, this manifests as the loss of her abilities. She struggles to walk, to move through the world on her own, to begin with. Her voice, which can restore life to the world and heal the cracks in it, has been stripped from her. Every time she opens her mouth, nothing comes out – as if she is on one side of a one-way mirror, slamming her hands against it but getting no response.

Every colour she restores to the world, every demon she faces (looking at you, giant creepy eel thing), brings her one step closer to overcoming the grief that is threatening to consume her. The darkness and demons chasing her, seem to indicate depression and anxiety – the way they appear and disappear, how they creep up on her and force her to flee. She can’t fight it, only try to outrun it. The same is in life, you can’t outright fight mental illness. It’s always there and it always comes back. You learn to coexist with it, to lessen its hold on you, to accept it as part of you. The end of the game leans towards this, with her seemingly moving on – her voice spiraling up into the sky, harmonizing with her mother’s, shattering the remaining darkness and restoring colour to the world. It’s a powerful ending to a powerful game.

Light and darkness cannot exist without one another.

This is probably the most moving game I’ve played in the last year. Having recently lost my grandfather, it spoke to me on an incredibly personal level. Even if you can’t afford it right now, watch a playthrough of it, or even listen to the game’s soundtrack. It is, hauntingly beautiful and something I think we all understand on a primal level. Grief and loss are a part of life, yet I hadn’t played a game that really summed up that experience until I played GRIS.

I hope you all have a great week, next up is Little Nightmares! If you enjoyed this piece, remember to like it, follow the site and comment below any feedback or suggestions for future articles!

Much love,

CaitlinRC