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A twisted guy named Augustine once wrote this, defining the concept of Limbo:
“Such infants as quit the body without being baptized will be involved in the mildest condemnation of all.”
“If heaven is a state of supernatural happiness and union with God, and hell is understood as a state of torture and separation from God then, in this view, the Limbo of Infants, [is] technically part of hell (the outermost part, “limbo” meaning “outer edge” or “hem”)”
EXPERIENCE VS. GAME
Playdead’s Limbo was a fantastic experience; one of my favorites of the year. The use of “experience” here I mean to express a very specific direction taken by the developers: a player’s experience of the game as a whole will likely be deeply tied to its aesthetic, rather than game mechanics per se. The challenges were based on a finely tuned physical simulation and very minor scripted AI, with little bits of intriguing details thrown in. It wasn’t particularly memorable as a “game” per se, but regardless was notable for its nearly Portal or Braid-like cerebral challenges without incorporating necessarily mind-bending mechanics.
As a game as well as an experience, an easy connection to make would be to Chahi’s early games – the quiet, the menace, the danger, the inevitability – as well as the replays, the replays, the replays. The replays.
BOOOOOOOM
The aesthetics – the sound, the visuals, the simplicity, and the feelings evoked – were fantastic. Especially the sound. I showed the game to teams at the office, and our sound designers immediately said – “Wait. We need to plug monitors in,” and proceeded to gape at the sound design.
Most complaints I’ve seen directed at the game appear to be focused on its relatively short length. Perhaps its just my increasing unwillingness to get sucked into 50 hour plus games talking (writing), but I think this is not much of a criticism.
The only area I would criticize is that the arc of the game’s thematic and level design culminated in an somewhat weaker conclusion than it could have been.
PEOPLE > NATURE > MECHANICAL
The level design was straightforward enough. It revolved around the placement of challenges using an element of danger as obstacle, pursuer, time limit, and so on. In terms of context, the danger proceeded from that of the natural world, to fellow humans, to man-made structures. The spider was terrifying, and an incredible start. Next began the human element of the danger – the discovery that you were not alone in this world, and that your peers were in fact trying to murder you – was incredibly memorable. Finally, only the mechanical; the man-made challenges of impartial buzzsaws, magnets, and electrified obstacles remained. This was by far the least affecting, yet most technically interesting gameplay.
There was some overlap of the context of natural world danger with that of human, and I would have liked to see some similar crossover in the third act with the mechanical with the murderous children of the second.
To me, there was something deeply disturbing in the Lord of the Flies-like cruelty and twisted society hinted at in the forts and tree houses of the children – a place where you were distinctly “the other,” an invader. This occasionally subtle and oftentimes overt sense of danger and unrest offered by this situation was emblematic of the overall experience I took away from the narrative and atmosphere of the entire game.
The systematic, predictable, inevitable behavior of the mechanisms of the third act made the most sense for ramping up the gameplay challenge – but a combination of the human and the mechanical, the unpredictable and predictable, in some way may have made for a more compelling conclusion.
Limbo is about our fear of each other, the natural world, and the world we create. It personifies the abstract menace of dark fairy tales. They and Limbo both echo something of our barbaric infancy as a species; genetic memories we haven’t quite escaped from.
Is this why we tell and listen to scary campfire stories as kids? There’s something very primal about all of this.
Speaking of barbaric infancy, anything St. Augustine ever wrote or said needs to be put to rest.
DESIGN NOTES:
Don’t underestimate the human element for drama.
The suggestion of danger can be just as powerful and driving as staring it in the face.
Conventional wisdom – almost everyone takes sound for granted in games, and if sound does its job, the player won’t even realize it. Not exactly, I think – when its as good as this, especially paired with an atmosphere and sparse presentation, players sit up and take notice – or shrink fearfully away from a suddenly thunderous wall of sound.
Previously posted at http://www.thepretentiousgamer.com/?p=220
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The introduction of existence of other children in this dark world was a brilliant notion. I played Limbo with my seven year old son watching and as intrigued as he was by the giant spider in the first act, he really started asking questions when he saw the other children. "How long have they lived here?" "Why do they want to kill you?" "Who are the other dead children seen scattered about?" "Who is their chief?"
We both hoped that this world of Lost Boys and giant spiders would open up and reveal itself with more details. But when the third act arrived and brought only magnets, switches and gears, my son lost interest and wandered away. I appreciate the design decision to leave the player with more questions than answers. Maybe some other games could benefit from a "less is more" approach. But even so, just a little more character involvement with the lost boys towards the end would have gone a long way.
I have no issue with the length, but I do feel that some complaints about its length arise more from the sense that they often used padding or puzzles that were anything but puzzling. They did a good job of showing just how... I don't know, stripped down, the experience was - I doubt the complaints would have been as present had the remainder of the game been consistent with the first hour's experience.
And definitely agreeing with Douglas on the themeing - lost boys, a creepy forest and a giant spider was far more compelling and menacing than "saws." Every time I got back to the surface for the rain storm was a breathe of fresh air, then wheee, back into the bowels of dull puzzling and magnets. It's telling that almost every screenshot and story used by reviews et al tends to be of those first few hours, with almost no mention of the rest of the game.
... but I don't mean to call it down as a bad game, I did still enjoy it, just - very inconsistently.
Slogging through Disney's Epic Mickey right now, talk about wasted potential-- so many fetch-quests and coin collecting and paint can reloading. It was like the developers formed a subcommittee whose job it was to strip all the fun out of the Disney license. I am being too harsh, but it really is a shame.
Especially glaring because I'm also playing Donkey Kong Country Returns which is sublime and one of the best Nintendo games I've seen in years. Even if it is crazy difficult at times.
Hi Megan, I definitely agree with you about certain inconsistencies in the rhythm. Actually the area where I was thrown off the most was in the introduction itself, where you are presented with a box in a pond and are required to backtrack. That section completely mystified me(I tried crossing on the box for ages), as well as everyone else I saw play through that section (5 or 6 people), despite the hint being the pointed placement of the respawn area. It could have been clarified easily with some environmental adjustments or a previous, more obvious backtracking puzzle. Despite my other issues with the latter acts, I still never encountered a moment that felt as wrong as that one.
I enjoyed the contrasts between the mechanical and organic environments though in the end I agree in finding the human (and overall natural) obstacles more affecting. There were some great elements of the mechanical world being increasingly rooted in patterns and predictability through the physical rules that required some experimentation (and not necessarily of the die-try-again variety), though of course any illusion of unpredictable animal/human nature of the earlier chapter was instantly dashed after dying and attempting a section twice - e.g. obviously the spider always jumps at the same time, lands at the same position, etc. - no less "mechanical" than an iron ball rolling after you as the gravity changes, except that changing the gravity allowed you to anticipate the ball's behavior.
Am glad people aren't tired of talking about Limbo!