THE SEED OF A MASTERPIECE
Also for: Blacknut, Linux, Macintosh, Playstation 4, Windows, Xbox One
My first critical impression of AER: Memories of Old (delevoped by Swedish studio Forgotten Key) came as soon as I
pushed the controller sticks to move. It wasn't great. The player character sprinted forward a little too quickly for my liking, with the running animation not feeling
quite like it connected with the ground. "How typically indie", I thought,
"but I'll bite."
I was controlling a young woman named Auk through a set of caverns in a
tutorial setting, learning the basics of movement and reading up on some lore.
The game looked technically hampered by low-polygonal visuals, but not without
aesthetic merit. A comforting atmosphere settled via the ambient soundtrack. I leaned back to relax.
But then indifference turned to euphoria just a few minutes later, as I left
the caverns for the overworld. I stepped out into a sort of heaven; a set of islands floating
in a glorious, sun-drenched skyrealm amidst giant cloud formations. And soon,
I realized the developers knew exactly what they were doing. Since Auk (which is the name of a real-life bird species that's prone to swimming) is not
merely human, that floaty running animation was deliberate.
A message on the screen told me to double-jump, so I did, and before my eyes
Auk transformed into a bird. It was an animation as natural as rain. I started
soaring the stratosphere, and if anything was left of the Earth far below, it
was hidden behind a thick groundbox of mist. The music (brilliantly composed
by Cajsa Larsson) became angelic, with low-key synthesizer choirs
accompanied by a playful banjo.
Regardless of what comes later, that first, single seamless shift from
earthbound to airborne makes the game unforgettable. Flying is usually an imprecise, clumsy affair in video games, but Auk controls like second nature. AER: Memories of Old completely
nails it. You feel liberated and empowered. You can take off from
anywhere, even mid-air, and then change back with the same ease, never
having to worry about the landing. Auk handles it herself by intuition.
Further elevated by the magical soundtrack, this was about as
ecstatic I've ever felt playing a video game. Double jumping from anywhere
and plunging down wherever you want to explore is a dream come true. The sense of
scale is overwhelming. New islands appear all over the open world, a few
different biomes shift the overall mood, and colossal cloud formations conceal God-Knows-What, calling out to my curiosity.
Unfortunately, there's a flipside to the coin. There's not much "game" to AER:
Memories of Old. You fight no enemies, no skill is required, there are no
artefacts to uncover and not much sense of progression. Apart from a few
individuals and animals, the world is uninhabited. The flying mechanic only
pertains to exploration. Once you go underground you lose that ability. And to
beat the game, you need to go underground, because that's where the bulk of your quest takes place. You might say AER suffers from the first
Assassin's Creed-syndrome; following the game's directions strips away
the best parts of the experience.
In the huge underground caverns, you need to figure out some very simple pressure
plate-puzzles, clear some platforming challenges, navigate some mazes, and above all discover what tore the world
apart into islands. The lore is revealed through fragments of runes and lingering spirits,
caught in freeze-frame, that you expose by shining with a magical lantern.
Some of them are accompanied by one-sentence remarks, in written form, that
serve as puzzle pieces to the bigger picture.
It's a tale of kindhearted animal gods promoting lowly humans to become their equals,
which in turn caused human hubris. As for the story of Auk, it hardly exists.
She's an empty, wordless vessel learning about ancient history, and the chain
of events she unearths feels impersonal, like watered-down retellings of myths we've heard a thousand
times before.
At the end of every set of caverns you meet an ancient deity. Everytime this
happens you expect some sort of crescendo, like a Shadow of the Colossus-style boss encounter, but instead the challenge fizzles out in a brief
monologue about the history of the world, and your part in saving what's left.
I don't personally mind this lack of release, but the lore is too minimalistic to hold
my interest.
I really wanted to like it more, but in the wake of the initial rush I found
the experience too hollow. The exploration itself remains great - without a
doubt the best I've seen in any game - and the world looks
beautiful. But it doesn't hide much meaningful content, apart from what little
you can deduce for yourself. The graphics are too minimalistic to leave room
for much visual storytelling. As for the challenges; running, jumping, navigating, solving simple puzzles and finding tidbits of lore feels too
limiting when juxtaposed with the liberation of soaring the skies.
AER doesn't last long, maybe 3-5 hours depending on how meticulous you are.
I'm thankful for that, given how little it offers apart from that initial
ecstasy of finding your wings. The audio design, with subtle and seamless
changes in the soundtrack as you explore, is also a cornerstone of the experience. When enveloped in the soundscape it becomes a
recreational place, like an own, private corner of heaven.
But unfortunately, knowing how little I discovered whilst exploring, I doubt
the sensation will return if I dive back in there - at least not to the same
extent. Now, I can settle with playing the soundtrack on YouTube and go back in memory
alone. The game doesn't meander, so it's perfect for a weekend, or a break
from a long-running playthrough of another game that's starting to overstay its welcome. And it is quite possibly a superb game for reclusive, sensitive people.
I've personally been obsessed by dreams of flying for the longest time. Back
in the early aughties, I remember hoping that Fumito Ueda's third game,
after Shadow of the Colossus, would have you controlling a little bird.
Inspired by that game's opening shot of a bird flying by the protagonist,
Wander, and his horse on their way to the Forbidden Lands, I hoped we'd get to
explore the same lands from the skies. Much later, after hearing
Alasdair Roberts' masterful folk song
Waxwing, I realized that the gameplay could revolve around finding food for your
chicks.
Over the years I've been frustrated by the absence of such games. Just
for breaking the deadlock, and giving us the world's best flight mechanics,
Forgotten Key should have ruled the world. They were sitting on a goldmine. I
would have loved to see the studio flourish and eventually put their
skills to the test in a full-fledged open world full of beauty, mysteries
and flight challenges.
They could've added loads of earthly secrets in ruins, lairs and keeps. And
how about some big, crowd-pleasing aerial boss fights for the trailers? Or
they wouldn't necessarily have to include traditional combat, but larger
predators to outmaneuver and flee. But sadly, the studio shut down in 2019,
leaving this game - as well as a couple of prototype demos of other ones - as the seed of such a masterpiece. Why didn't Sony realize their potential and bring them into
their fold? Now it's too late. And it seems like I will have to keep on
dreaming.
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