GROWN-UPS ARE MONSTERS
Also for: Stadia, Windows, Xbox One
They're everywhere these days, aren't they, these side-scrolling puzzle platformers. Reportedly, they are quick and easy to make, which explains their appeal to first-time developers and small studios, who cannot risk bankruptcy by
tackling a massive project. In search of inspiration,
they tend to look deep into gaming history for timeless gameplay
mechanics, and add a few idiosyncracies through their own unique design quirks.
In the case of Little Nightmares (developed by Swedish-based Tarsier Studio), the creators owe their narrative and gameplay chops to Another World (a.k.a. Out of this World, 1991) by way of
Limbo (2010). This is such a textbook inspiration that it hardly
needs mentioning anymore.
But the trite gameplay mechanics share the screen with a really complex visual language. Little Nightmares' evocative, wordless storytelling and horrifying enemy design add a unique dimension. Yes,
this is a horror game, but mostly only in theme, as the sideways
perspective detaches you (the player) too much from the object in danger (the player character) to make it downright scary. The game instead leans into an
unsettling, stressful atmosphere; a sense of being trapped in a place, seeing
things you're not supposed to see.
The story is an enigma cloaked in mystery. You assume the role of a tiny girl,
named Six, in a yellow hooded raincoat, as she awakens from a nightmare. The
metallic, barren room around you is dimly lit, a fact that your small lighter
does little to alleviate. As you run to the right, a few small shades with
pointy hats (they are called "nomes") scurry off the screen. A few rooms
later, we stumble upon the first explicitly foreboding sign, a corpse hanging from a noose above a chair. A letter, presumably a suicide note, lies on the floor
beside the chair.
The suspense hangs in the air along with the poor sod, and the stress should
be enough to keep you on your toes as you proceed through the surroundings. You're on a ship, called The Maw, and you often feel as
intrusive and unwelcome as a rat stuck in a private residence - you don't
really belong here. The way forward is often barred by locked doors to breach,
wide gaps to bridge and high ledges to reach. In the darkness, the way to do
so might be unclear.
After many minutes working your way through a room and messing around with the
realistic physics engine, you might stumble upon a solution. But when you miss
the final jump to the exit, it's hard to keep your anger in check, as the
unforgiving checkpoint system forces you to retread the entire series of
challenges - sometimes only to fail again on the same stupid jump. It's
moments like these that sometimes ruin the atmosphere, but the skillful
handling of pace, sound and level design quickly re-establishes the mood.
The controls are fair and simple, and work pretty well with Six's fluid
animations. At times they mess things up for me, like when Six refuses to
jump, and instead tries to dodge beneath a table that's too low to get
under, giving an enemy time to catch up and grab me. The interact button is
also unreliable, requiring Six to get into a very specific position to grab
or latch onto things.
A lack of instructions, tutorials and clear direction creates a great sense
of uncertainty and alienation. The linear level design still makes it
obvious that you generally need to go right - which is a gamer's natural instinct - but sometimes you must take
wide detours to get there. Little Nightmares also adds depth to the playing
field, a third dimension that makes a mockery of some platforming segments,
as the distant sideways perspective messes with the depth perception. You
don't have much frame of reference, and might very well fall to your death on either side of a narrow ledge.
But on the other hand, the added depth works great in the stealth segments, where you need to stay out of your enemy's sight. These grotesquely exaggerated manifestations of adults are
monsters you cannot fight. You must crawl in the shadows, preferrably
underneath their tables, on top of shelves or beneath the floor grilles. When
they find you, to an alarming shriek, all you can do is try to find a hidey-hole or, in a few rare
instances, try to run away. Their heavy breathing and teeth grinding are the
stuff of nightmares, and just wait until you see them eat.
In their design, and the last couple of levels overall, I see some connections to Japanese cinema, primarily
Spirited Away and a little bit of Ringu (the Japanese original version of The Ring). These adults could
represent some idea how humans must seem to small creatures, with our long, spindly arms and puffy cheeks. This opens up the
possibility that the yellow-cloaked protagonist isn't quite human - although
her features might seem like an ordinary, albeit very small child. I couldn't
help but laugh as I asked myself: Is this how rats perceive us?
Does it all have a symbolic meaning? Undoubtedly, yes. But what is the
meaning? Well, I don't know if it matters that much - at least not to me. I'm in no rush to find one. Even
though it is hard to get a conclusive answer, I get enough cohesion from the
imagery and level design to give the creators the benefit of the doubt. It
seems like the story is apparent to them - and they're confident enough in
their player base to let us crack the code for ourselves. And when we finally
succeed (or think we do) the effect can be a lot stronger than if we got it served on a
platter.
Most of all, the game relishes in its imagery. It utilizes the background to
great effect, preceding every new area with a foreshadowing appearance by your
next adversary. Fat people lining up on the gangway to board the ship. A geisha on a balcony overseeing the arrival of these new passengers. A scrawny guy with long arms tucking babies in for the night.
A recurring image of a staring eye carries great symbolic weight, that much is clear. Six's yellow jacket might also be significant, but could merely exist
as a crutch for the player; to make her stand out against the darkness and
metallic grey. The trophy list also works as a list of clues to help us
unravel the mystery. But at the end of the day, I can't say I am able to wrap my fat mind around it. At least not yet.
Little Nightmares is a short game - two to four hours - but fitting for numerous replays, if only to search for hidden meaning. And
with all that said, the emotional truth is clear as day from the outset. The story is tragic,
because the mood is somber. Although the monsters look like horror puppets from a satire and
behave in an almost comical manner, this game is too oppressive for laughter.
Instead, Little Nightmares points a mocking finger at big, disgusting people with their overblown features, insatiable appetites and obsession for beauty.
And some hide their true nature behind masks to appear like the rest of us. It sounds almost political, if not poetic.
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