I've spent a lot of time, too much perhaps to explain the logistical side of looking at and perceiving gaming as an art. It's a new awareness and I wanted to be absolutely certain of my feelings by making this series of posts, so perhaps I shouldn't apologize for this indulgence. Art is also in how it's viewed, which is why illustrations have and continue to be most people's first consideration when reading the word.
There's a third, equally important angle to art that's sometimes hard to talk about, not always because of the subject matter but the in-tangibleness of it. It's about the feelings it instills and draws out of each of us. Feelings that may be similar, yet always differ in some microscopic way.
I was invested in the story from the opening cutscene. It's one that mirrors the layers of gameplay you're about to dive into, with mysteries and uncertainty that draw you into yourself as much as the game and can, ideally, compel you to ride this train for as long as possible. It'd be rather difficult to understand most of what's happening if you get off at one of the earlier stops, but there's a very satisfying, emotional payoff by the end of the second layer. Even if you stopped after the first layer's credits, it's easy to respect and understand the depth unseen.
There's a lot of joy to be found, via the occasional expressions from characters you expect and characters you don't. From the comedic turns involving unfortunate bandits and deserved retribution toward a certain ruler. Lillie's little sapphic arc put a big smile on my face, while Lilly's demeanor managed to keep my spirits up.
The game certainly tugged at my heartstrings. That feeling of hope being crushed under a seemingly endless despair as I tried to get Ninnie a happy ending. Seeing Lilly get snatched away, even if it resolved the current situation. Everything to do with Lev once I understood how to reach the conclusions to their arc.. EX's conclusion, a swansong of sorrow, borrowed at that. Layers of feelings, or even the same feeling, VS can manage it all.
And of course, the gameplay itself at times. Whenever I got stuck on a floor for over an hour - B101 on Lillie's end, forever burned into my mind, along with a certain floor in the DIS section and several of the EX arc. Frustration is a constant companion, and I do mean companion. It'll find you sooner or later, so you may as well accept it with open arms.
For all the hopelessness the game provides via its puzzles or some of the storybeats, it's worth noting the game only puts you in impossible situations twice - one behind layers of optional and the other to help set up one of the various endings. Friction is an important aspect of the game. There's a dance with it as there are ways to circumvent it as you solve the meta puzzles, but then the game pushes back with puzzles that account for your various knowledge gains. The back and forth from desperation to satisfaction is carefully balanced, though not for everyone. I myself couldn't get enough, despite my complaints at times. Especially during....If, even that was worth it.
The screen by screen nature ensures that when something comes into view, it's all at once. It's similar to turning a page in a comic/manga, and that isn't just speculation after learning about Beserk's influence. Jumpscares do exist in the game, albeit rarely. More often, the moments of unease and anxiousness come from the larger objects/entities hinted upon. Despite the static nature of the screens, the sense of scale comes across in a way that feels effortless. The uncertainty that never goes away in some of these instances feeds into a fiendish drive to either want to forget, thus cementing the image in mind or a desire to learn more, and when/if that fails, contemplate the meanings. Who made the statues, what is the story behind the save wiping entity, what else might lurk in the abyss of the null floor?
There's feelings of empowerment that serve to push as much as feelings of curiosity may pull. Once you first obtain your wings/sword, whether as Gray/Lillie or when you start as Cif, that changes your understanding and scope of every single floor, and we know that's well over 500 total. Depending on how early those discoveries are made can further impact the moment you obtain what I call the infinity rod, removing another important restriction on just how much you can change your environment. Working out the UI, too, is a mix of empowering and a streak of mischievousness crystalized. Giving Lilly such a major part in the grand finale after she'd been stuck in damsel mode most the whole game - in some ways, it was all for her sake, and yet she fought for that sake as hard as her protector(s). It's worth noting the initial dive into the void was due to another flash of empowerment over her own fate.
Those connections and interactions, both seen and unseen. The same happens in the story, it feels, as Cif plays an important role that can only be properly understood in hindsight. It helps to explain how brief your time controlling them is, as they've already done so much for Add. To me, Add had two goals: one to serve a purpose and the other to find one. I can't say games have often inflicted a feeling of yearning onto me, but perhaps it's always been there? This became a rare case of both acknowledging and accepting how important it is, that you cannot ignore what the heart wants, and that you should give your heart a chance to explain what that want is. When friends were calling me Grayward it was because of earlier, relatable moments we'd felt in tandem, but the most important connection wound up hidden in plain sight, like many aspects of the game. Lev, Lillie, and all those lost in the void may not realize it, but they were also overcome by this particular feeling..
Frustration isn't quite what I felt when I spent 15ish hours on the Cif fight. I jumped into it with open arms and glee as Wayward, Grayward known friction enjoyer. I mostly cherished the three hours Malenia took and the value of the three hours I spent on Sekiro's sword saint has no equal. To have the game suddenly swap to real time gave newfound context to the step-by-step motions of most the rest of the game, a read on Gray/Lillie/Cif's power as opposed to most others'. The tension experienced, the slow grasp of most of the first phase's attacks and...some of the second phase's. The comedic relief of that tension told in the form of an 11 hour joke my first time through as I tried to do a quick little funny regarding the shrimp is a moment that will forever become a part of my gaming memories. The 5 additional hours spent on the runback that led to me realizing my time spent with Drakengard 3's final boss (another timeless, treasured experience) had itself newfound value and elevated Cif's fight to the top of my non-existent (final) boss tierlist. The proper release of that tension and the resulting farewell from Cif left me stunlocked for as many minutes as the comedic clear had. Yes, this boss fight came with equally memorable moments in a way some may call Layered.
There's a feeling of belonging that the game calls attention to. The importance of one's ties to another person is a central message, though the community puzzle and the final word from the dev route ensures we don't forget the communal nature we strive for. It's a shame it can be difficult to share in the joy and love of a particular game, movie, or other shared interest without some circumstance causing fractures. Loneliness is rampant and I feel it often. Every message is a gift as far as I'm concerned, though arguments could be made about the toxic intent from some strangers and those who mask their intentions.
But we need to show courage and keep trying, keep connecting. The emphasis on specific connections: Gray/Lilly, Cif/Bee, Gray/Lillie, Lillie/Ninnie, Gray/Lev - most interactions focus on the 1 to 1 approach, as if to say these are the most important, and I agree. You can't form a community until you take that first step, that first person, that first friend. Groups don't magically form, even the ones that seem spontaneous are a series of smaller connections that form at rapid pace, easy to miss, easy to undervalue. Value those, too.
The above screenshot's from a now cherished scene. It reinforces one of my favorite tendencies, calls it out with a heartfelt acknowledgement. I try to see everything I can, experience everything that is within reason for every game I play these days. The payoff has expectantly been more visible via indies, which is part of the long list of why I've steered more and more toward them. It's also why older games feel more rewarding to play, back before corporations and executives meddled in artistic intent to suit some aspect divorced from the artful lens. Is it more convenient to have games be designed around smaller, bitesized levels and chapters in our increasingly busy lives? Yes. Is it worth sacrificing what a game could be? I struggle to believe so. The quest to make intentionally viral moments was a major concern I had with BotW2 after seeing how many clips circulated from the first game. Seeing God of War Ragnarok hold the player's hand so aggressively was disheartening in ways I don't want to go into. It's in that same way I struggle to find many multiplayer games I'm willing to give a chance, as while friendslop can be good, it can lack depth.
I can and do enjoy games at the surface level sometimes, sometimes, but it's a mentality that I'll always wrestle with. To me, it's about seeing what a person, a team contribute. Even if I couldn't give a properly itemized list, I try to see as many of the details as possible and appreciate them all - from the climatic conclusions to the idle animations. While I haven't watched many movies or shows in recent times, I was always fond of audio commentaries similarly and made sure to watch every special feature on a dvd/blu-ray. I'd linger on manga pages to fully take in the art of each panel. I'd re-read passages to make sure I understood what's being conveyed as best I could, despite realizing some knowledge will always require a second read through after you've finished a book for the first time. When I'm ready to enjoy an ost or the rare cd for the first time, I shut out all distractions, close my eyes, and do my best to take in everything about the tracks I listen to. If I have to restart a track because something took my attention away, I'll do so for as many times as is necessary.
Feelings of hope are harder and harder to come by these days. I'd say my hope's at an all time low, even now, with what's happening in/because of my country, ai, and late stage capitalism. The fact that I don't have to specify which country brings even further sorrow to that statement, as it can apply to so many. Humanity is often disappointing, but I won't give up on us. As small a hope as I can be reduced to, that flame will never go out. Humanity destroys, but it also creates. It's those creations and the changes they inspire that give a meaning, a purpose.
There's one last feeling worth mentioning here. Unfortunately, words escape me this time. This isn't a "the game left me speechless" kind of statement, though that definitely did happen several times over. No, there were moments, particularly during Lillie's ending as pictured above, that triggered something deep within that I literally can't put into words. Words are there to give us a way of identifying and embodying our thoughts and feelings and yet I can't find a word that describes this one. It lingers in the borders between anxiety, anticipation, and emptiness, perhaps. Yearning may be it's cousin or even it's sibling. It's a sensation that made me extremely aware of every action I was making at that point in time. A feeling that was calling out, perhaps screaming to be acknowledged, trapped deep within my heart. Perhaps it's the type of feeling that'd be at home alongside wrath, envy, and the rest of the seven. Perhaps, it's tied to what Add embodies.
As we grow older and acquire new experiences, we become numb to our normals, and while we can do our best to find comfort in what we know, it's important to be open to the discomfort of what we don't. I suspect that dive into the unknown is necessary in order to notice this emotion. That while this feeling's always been there, subtly felt in most cases - It's rarely, truly experienced in others. I felt a similar feeling when I played Undertale, I felt that same feeling when I played Hollow Knight and Rain World. It took some time, but eventually, I recalled this feeling from my oldest favorite game, Tales of Symphonia. It's not a new feeling, this unknown, elusive fragment. And while I can't provide proof, I'm certain this mysterious feeling's been instilled through paintings, books, songs, and all other means of creative expression. At the very least, I know I had a similar experience when reading Land of the Lustrous.
It may not be a feeling at all, it may be but a memory. One that existed long before I came into this world, and one that'll persist long after we've left it. It falls on us to pay it forward and to make sure that no matter what happens, humanity continues to hold on tight to it, to never forget it. Never stop experiencing. Jump into the unknown. Embrace the void.
Everyone should give this game a chance, whether to watch or play or even just read about. By the end, I hope you'll be left thinking and feeling as follows:
