Tuesday, 12 December 2017

Gorogoa review

At one point, the sun becomes a gear with tooth-like rays that might slot neatly into the crenellations of a nearby castle. A man walks to the right in the foreground, and the castle retreats to the left in the background. The teeth of the sun have meshed with the castle now, so as a man walks, his very act of walking turns the sun in the sky - and the sun itself turns...?

This is Gorogoa, and look at what this simple puzzle - the only one I will really spoil - is doing right here. Look at the way it makes you poke at this game's world, imagining a sun that works as a gear, a man who works as a motor. Look at the playful shifts in scale, in perspective, the sheer dance of flatness as distant giants meet nearby minnows in the knowledge that the eye can be trusted to slot it all together. A sun becomes a gear and as a man walks across the earth he turns that sun in the sky!

Gorogoa is drawn by hand and created by - um, I actually have no idea at all how someone could have put this together. The game's quest seems simple, if I have it right: a boy spies a divine beast in the distance and heads off to gather the fruit that will sate it. The quest is just the friendly shove, of course, the first bit of forward momentum you need for a game that feels like a book, a papercraft puzzle, a sticker album, a crazed unspooling schematic (or even a Mad Magazine fold-in, a peculiar art form in which a crimped creasing of the page allows an image to contain its own parody). But in fact Gorogoa would only work as a game, where geometry becomes pliable and prone to whimsy, where vectors can be judged and then acted upon, where progress is the only force of nature that cannot be meddled with.

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from Eurogamer.net http://ift.tt/2BE3d3M