Tag: puzzle

Kindergarten – Mean Girls Has Nothing on These Kids:

People often reminisce about their school days, speaking fondly of teachers, playground games and the friendships they made. I only graduated from school a few years back, but I do the same, especially in the occasional meetups that I have with my old friends – in between the carnage that is university. As a military brat, I went to several different primary schools, but I can confirm that none of them were quite like the experiences of the New Kid in 2017’s indie puzzle game, Kindergarten and its recent sequel – Kindergarten 2.

It’s your first day at your new school and something is… not quite right. Whether it’s the ongoing missing child case, the murderous janitor and his beloved mop or the class teacher’s strange fondness of killing off her students, it doesn’t take a detective to realise that something is amiss at this school. If you want to make it through your first day, you’ll have to face the bully, befriend your fellow classmates, kill those who cause you problems and avoid several different forms of poisoning. You know, normal kid stuff.

Bit creepy there Nugget.

Kindergarten, like many indie games, was a big hit on YouTube. I’ve lost count of how many lets-plays there are of it but despite the content saturation, I think Kindergarten is one of those franchises that deserves every second of screen time it gets and more. At its core, the Kindergarten series are puzzle games. Each mission has a different set of requirements, but they are simple in nature. There are no ridiculously complicated codes to break or extremely vague clues that cause more confusion than assistance.

I think this simplicity mixed with darker themes and side-splitting hilarity is what has allowed it to retain its popularity, with the sequel being met with pure excitement than with mild trepidation, which happens with a lot of indie games. With a cast of goofy, multi-dimensional characters, there’s a lot more depth to Kindergarten than you’d expect to see from it. From Bugg’s dad having left him, to the twisted relationship between Ted and Felix, it can really make you think – as you watch your character get obliterated by the robot girl with a death laser.

Your friendly neighbourhood murderer, I mean Janitor.

Part of the appeal of puzzle games like Kindergarten is the sense of achievement it provides you. Whether it’s dying in a hilarious way, completing a mission or just trying something unexpected, the game actively rewards you for doing so – often the rarer Monstermon cards are unlocked this way. I don’t know whether it was intentional on the game designer’s part or not but this idea of experimenting, learning and trying new things is like what we try to teach kids from a young age (Just without the murder). It perfectly mimics that sense of childish glee that you see on a toddler’s face when they discover Playdough for the first time.

Being able to enjoy things just because they’re funny or ridiculous, is something that you often miss out on if you struggle with mental health issues – especially for depression sufferers. You lose interest in your hobbies; you struggle to smile at something that used to reduce you to fits of laughter and it just all seems… dark. You don’t see the point in laughing or smiling or going out of your way to try and escape the negative spiral you’ve been caught in – you feel you deserve that sadness, that emptiness. It’s a toxic cycle that is extremely hard to break out of. I speak from experience in that department.

WHY THE SPIDERS FELIX.

So, having a game series based around being childlike, messing around and completing the whackiest list of tasks on the planet – like pouring spiders on a child trapped in a hole, is more than just an excuse to laugh. It’s like being handed a get out of jail free card from that negative hole that you’ve been trapped in. Instead of having spiders thrown on you, someone throws you a rope and helps you climb out, even if it’s just for a little while. That time in the light, in the sense of happiness and genuine joy, makes surviving the next bout of darkness that much easier.

Plus, I think we can all relate to a few of the character’s in the game. Although exaggerated, the missions they set you are a lot deeper than you think. Let me talk about a few, from my point of view:

  1. Cindy’s Flower – Throughout this mission, Cindy has you do her bidding. From traumatising poor Lily by pouring a bucket of blood on her head, to potentially beating you to death for not giving her money whilst playing a game of “house”, it’s clear that this is a toxic relationship. Considering that Cindy is extremely young, it makes you wonder – why is this her idea of a good relationship? Why does she have a breathalyser?
  • Nugget’s Nuggets – Simultaneously the most beloved character and the whackiest, Nugget is certainly an odd case. For him to trust you, he asks you to complete various tasks to gain five nuggets of friendship, before he will truly talk to you. Apart from the poisoning you bit and killing off the school bully, he seems desperate for a friend that he can trust – especially now that Billy is missing. He’s lonely. And in this deadly school, that’s a dangerous thing.
  • Cain’s Not Able – In the second game, you meet the brothers Felix and Teddy. Where Felix is bossy, confident and conceited, Teddy is shy, underconfident and eager to please. Their family’s business is wealthy and powerful, so Felix wants the full inheritance rather than having to share with his brother. So, he enlists you to help kill him. Depending on what path you take in the mission, you can help betray Teddy and kill him – ignoring his pleas for his brother to love him, or let Teddy know of the plot and help him seek his revenge. It’s an incredibly dark mission, not so subtly influenced by the bible story of Cain and Able.

The examples I’ve given are just a drop in the ocean of the potential talking points surrounding Kindergarten. So, give it a shot if you haven’t, it’s well worth the time! Plus, Nugget is best boy.

Till next time,

CaitlinRC.

Untitled Goose Game – My Cousin Is Afraid of Geese and Now I Know Why:

I’ve never been a fan of geese. Then again, I don’t think anyone on the planet is particularly fond of them. They are known as the douchebags of the avian world, with their terrifying spiky tongues and tendency to harass anyone that even glances at them. Thankfully, I’ve only really been chased by geese rather than outright attacked but both my cousin and my sister have felt the sharp nip of their beaks. When we were all younger, we used to go feed the ducks and play by the riverside. Every so often we’d see a swan glide past or a group of geese honking at one another. Whilst feeding a duck some seeds, a goose snuck up on my cousin and started honking aggressively, flapping its wings and hissing like the big jerk it was. Being a six-year-old at the time, my cousin burst into tears and froze on the spot, triggering the goose to bite her and cause her to drop her little bag of seeds. My aunt chased it off, but my cousin still hates geese to this day and she’s twenty-two!

Although utter jerks, geese are a part of nature and I get a great sense of peace from watching the birds on the canals near where I live. It’s a calming moment amongst some of the darker times that the real world likes to burden us with. Video games seem to follow this trend recently, with a lot of recent releases being rather gritty, hard-hitting games that reveal some of the darker features of human nature. Games strive to show us a part of ourselves that we refuse to admit is there, highlighting important issues and teaching us lessons that can’t always be taught in school. However, considering how dark the real world can get sometimes, turning to a video game that is just as dark, can seem a tad depressing. Which is why silly games like Mount Your Friends or Quiplash are so important in bringing joy back to our lives. One game that takes this concept and runs headlong into the village with it, is the Untitled Goose Game.

Time to listen to BBC Radio HONK!

If you’ve been hiding in a cave without an internet connection, then I’ll quickly explain the premise of the game in the words of the developers – “It’s a lovely morning in the village, and you are a horrible goose.” As the goose, who I have lovingly named Flerken (thumbs up if you get that reference), your job is to roam around the village causing all sorts of chaos. From stealing the gardener’s rake and throwing it into the lake, locking the shopkeeper in the garage, stealing a man’s shoes off his feet and making another trip over, there’s no end to the potential hilarity of this game.

At its core, it’s a puzzle game. To progress, you must complete a series of tasks on your to-do list in order to unlock the next area. Some tasks require a bit more planning than others but no matter what task you complete, you get a great deal of satisfaction when that item gets crossed off your list. I think House House, the developers behind the game, have managed to create a game that brings childlike delight to all who play it, as well as providing a series of complex tasks that feed into the concept of reward motivation. Whether that reward is progressing the game, getting to see the hilarious consequences of your actions or simply the pleasure of crossing an item off your list, House House encourages it’s players to keep trying – after all, when we know there’s a reward at the end, we are more determined to get there.

Don’t hire the goose as a waiter, he has a fowl mouth.

There are two things that I feel we as humans should do on a regular basis. The first is to cry – just sob and let all your emotions pour out of you. We can’t hold it all in forever, eventually, we will explode, and I’d rather explode in the private of my own home rather than lashing out at those I love by accident. The other is to laugh. Not to snigger or laugh politely at a bad joke, but a proper laugh. One that shakes your shoulders and leaves you gasping for air, where your stomach aches and your cheeks hurt from smiling. When you laugh like that, it leaves a grin on your face for the rest of the day and makes everything seem that bit lighter. Running around as a goose, annoying people and honking like a maniac manage to bring me those moments of laughter.

It’s a game that appeals to the troublemaker in each of us. Growing up, we are told not to cause trouble as it upsets and frustrates those around us but a little part of us finds it funny. House House taps into this vein of mischief with a charming little game that apparently started as a joke that snowballed into a gaming phenomenon that even the most cynical of people can crack a smile at. Even in games where you are given the choice to act like a jerk, we often choose to be kind because most of us inherently want to be good people. So, a game that is based around being a gigantic jerk to the various humans and causing as much chaos as possible to this sleepy little village, is a delightful time for the devils that sit on our shoulders.

FEAR ME TIMMY! I AM THE GOOSE!

There’s an incredible amount of detail that has gone into this game, with each “level” providing you with more opportunities to wreak havoc than you could ever imagine. The villagers wandering around the level all respond to the goose differently, some actively encouraging you and others chasing you away with a broom, so you have to adapt your approach to solving each objective dependent on whether you’re going to be chased after by a big burly man. Little thought bubbles pop up above the villager’s heads in response to various events, such as what they are going to do next or what item has magically disappeared from the garden and ended up in the lake (it wasn’t me I swear), which provide good clues to the player for those slightly trickier objectives.

From replayability to speedrunning, the game has a great deal of potential for sticking around as a darling indie games that are beloved by all. Undertale, Super Meat Boy, Cuphead and The Stanley Parable are all examples of this, and I hope more than anything that this delightful chaos causing goose becomes a staple in the gaming community for decades to come. Its art style won’t have to worry about graphical updates making it look bad in comparison, and what’s not to love about being a goose? HONK! I can agree, that this game was definitely worth the wait and although I’ve already finished all the objectives and claimed my little goose crown, I will be replaying it time and time again, for that sense of pure joy that it provides even when my mental health decides that it’s time to suffer. HONK HONK!

Well, well, well, what do we have here.

Anyways, depending on how much free time I get this week, I’m going to try and finish off Prey and write about it! The mimics will probably be the focus of the article as the concept of things not being what they appear is a big problem that those with mental health issues have to combat in everyday life. Until then, like, leave a comment and follow the site, plus my Twitter to keep up to date with everything @OurMindGames!

Till next time,

CaitlinRC.

GRIS – So Beautiful It Should Be Illegal:

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