It had been around ten hours that I had spent in the beautiful world of Aquaria, and I felt that my interest was dwindling a bit. Not that I thought the game was bad in any way ; it still looked and sounded like a triumph of art direction, and it still handled like a charm. But I felt that its basic concepts were starting to wear thin, and that the essential flow of the action was becoming routine. It didn't help that I had engaged in paths that I was perhaps not expected to explore at this point (although I certainly appreciated being able to), and it probably made my progression more cumbersome than it should have. But most of all, it started to get very lonely...
Fortunately, these assumptions were momentarily dispelled when I discovered a certain region in the upper parts that presented me with three surprises. The first was the surface of the water, which did not only make for a welcome change of scenery but felt absolutely great to experiment with and also had a certain narrative weight. The second was a large vertical chasm filled with "bubbles" of sorts that had me flying around gleefully for an inordinate amount of time, even though I was never able to reach the secret item conveniently placed just a little too high. And last but not least was a being named Li, of which I will say no more apart from the fact that its partly-interactive, partly-cinematic introduction was handled absolutely brilliantly and significantly reduced the "loneliness" factor without being too intrusive either. All these elements spoke of co-creator Alec Holowka's oft-professed will to craft game experiences of certain emotional depth, while still exulting the kind of simple joy that all games inspired by Zelda or Mega Man aim to evoke.
I have spent some more time with Aquaria since then, going back to explore untouched areas (and one truly feels like it could stretch forever...), but I have now hit a wall and am at a loss about how to progress further. I don't mind this, because it has happened before and I always ended up finding the elegant solutions that the designers came up with. But most of all, whereas before I was questioning my willingness to continue, the hope that there might be other small epiphanies just around the corner, added to the knowledge that my heroine is not so alone after all, makes me feel better and more confident in the authors' proposition. Although I could do without much of the click-heavy action and the occasionally extreme level of difficulty, I now have more reason than ever to heartily recommend this gorgeous and sprawling game to anyone with a taste for adventure.
Fortunately, these assumptions were momentarily dispelled when I discovered a certain region in the upper parts that presented me with three surprises. The first was the surface of the water, which did not only make for a welcome change of scenery but felt absolutely great to experiment with and also had a certain narrative weight. The second was a large vertical chasm filled with "bubbles" of sorts that had me flying around gleefully for an inordinate amount of time, even though I was never able to reach the secret item conveniently placed just a little too high. And last but not least was a being named Li, of which I will say no more apart from the fact that its partly-interactive, partly-cinematic introduction was handled absolutely brilliantly and significantly reduced the "loneliness" factor without being too intrusive either. All these elements spoke of co-creator Alec Holowka's oft-professed will to craft game experiences of certain emotional depth, while still exulting the kind of simple joy that all games inspired by Zelda or Mega Man aim to evoke.
I have spent some more time with Aquaria since then, going back to explore untouched areas (and one truly feels like it could stretch forever...), but I have now hit a wall and am at a loss about how to progress further. I don't mind this, because it has happened before and I always ended up finding the elegant solutions that the designers came up with. But most of all, whereas before I was questioning my willingness to continue, the hope that there might be other small epiphanies just around the corner, added to the knowledge that my heroine is not so alone after all, makes me feel better and more confident in the authors' proposition. Although I could do without much of the click-heavy action and the occasionally extreme level of difficulty, I now have more reason than ever to heartily recommend this gorgeous and sprawling game to anyone with a taste for adventure.
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