A few thoughts on Braid
Jonathan Blow's Braid, if you don't follow video games, is the current darling of the press. Superficially Mario-derivative, it references the iconic games as a metaphor for a failing relationship. Every world treats the flow of time differently--without spoiling too much--as a metaphor for the protagonists' desperate desire to rewind time and undo the mistakes he made.
I've been looking forward to Braid ever since I heard about it a year-or-so ago. It's a genuine indie game; the same way indie movies tell stories and explore moviemaking in ways mainstream movies can't, indie games push the boundaries of what it means to be a game. If you need ammunition in the battle for games as a true artistic medium, this is where you'll find it, not in beautiful but derivative games like Ico and Shadow of the Collosus. Braid was made by two people and it shows; it's intimate and lovingly crafted.
It's an exceptionally polished game but clearly aspires to something higher; to be a piece of art. Unfortunately, at least for me, this is where it struggles. The writing, on which the narrative relies, is needlessly overwrought. I assume it's intentional--the protagonist turns out to be self-absorbed and, well, kind of a twat--but it feels accidental, making the game seem pretentious.
I'm uncertain about the referencing of Super Mario Bros. It feels too heavy-handed to be a true homage; you can have a hero trying to save a princess without Mario. You can have platform game mechanics without Mario. It's an unnecessary layer on top of the archetypal story of a hero and heroine. Instead of being a clever metaphor it undermines the creativity and uniqueness of the game. It also feels plain gratuitous and unoriginal--who hasn't referenced Mario at this point?
Nevertheless there are moments of pure genius. The use of time manipulation in the final level is a glorious argument for using game play itself as narrative. I wish the game had made more of this--less narration, more in-world storytelling.
Braid is an important game. It's determinedly anti-commercial, a work of love, yet all reports suggest it's doing enormously well. I don't want to play a sequel to Braid: I want to play the games that will follow in its wake.
I've been looking forward to Braid ever since I heard about it a year-or-so ago. It's a genuine indie game; the same way indie movies tell stories and explore moviemaking in ways mainstream movies can't, indie games push the boundaries of what it means to be a game. If you need ammunition in the battle for games as a true artistic medium, this is where you'll find it, not in beautiful but derivative games like Ico and Shadow of the Collosus. Braid was made by two people and it shows; it's intimate and lovingly crafted.
It's an exceptionally polished game but clearly aspires to something higher; to be a piece of art. Unfortunately, at least for me, this is where it struggles. The writing, on which the narrative relies, is needlessly overwrought. I assume it's intentional--the protagonist turns out to be self-absorbed and, well, kind of a twat--but it feels accidental, making the game seem pretentious.
I'm uncertain about the referencing of Super Mario Bros. It feels too heavy-handed to be a true homage; you can have a hero trying to save a princess without Mario. You can have platform game mechanics without Mario. It's an unnecessary layer on top of the archetypal story of a hero and heroine. Instead of being a clever metaphor it undermines the creativity and uniqueness of the game. It also feels plain gratuitous and unoriginal--who hasn't referenced Mario at this point?
Nevertheless there are moments of pure genius. The use of time manipulation in the final level is a glorious argument for using game play itself as narrative. I wish the game had made more of this--less narration, more in-world storytelling.
Braid is an important game. It's determinedly anti-commercial, a work of love, yet all reports suggest it's doing enormously well. I don't want to play a sequel to Braid: I want to play the games that will follow in its wake.