In-between Stratums

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:

As previously mentioned, VS itself takes a few detours from time to time to showcase other genres. I commented on how it could be a showcase of inspirations, and that's true, but it's also true that it could be considered a tribute to gaming as a whole. Looking at it like that, I realized the same could be said about the types of art it embodies.

Art in general, illustrations - I've posted enough screencaps to make my case there. That is kind of the baseline for any and all visual mediums, so I can quickly move on from this one, surely.

The song, Voided, that plays at the bad end of the first layer. It's an outlier as it's the only track in the OST to contain vocals. As the sequence progresses, all sounds fade away in order to showcase it. Its presence, coupled with the deterioration going on all around Gray help to establish that not only is something wrong - something went horribly wrong. A fitting tribute to the power of music.

The ending of the fourth layer is a powerful one. Most would describe it with a single word, "cinema." It's not a stretch, it really isn't. To me, it's a fitting tribute to the power of film.

Books come up a handful of times, but the most notable involve Gray reading bedtime stories to both Lilly and Lillie. A fitting tribute, as so many are first introduced to them in such a way. Goodnight Moon in particular comes to mind, one of my oldest memories.

Photography's another expression of art that's fairly new when it comes to the greater timeline of humanity. I always felt this one was underappreciated. It can sometimes feel silly taking so many photos of a given event or vacation, but when all that's left are memories, whether personal or historical, they'll remain one of the strongest connections to our past. As such, it's a fitting tribute to link such an important series of rewards accordingly. I can only imagine how much Gray valued those pictures.

Dancing, the most physical of art forms perhaps. Solo numbers can be very personal while group numbers are an impressive showcase of choreography. A dance between two people is, to me, a very special display. Those performed to crowds tend to highlight bonds of upmost trust, a special language we as viewers could only guess at. It can also be something very private, a memory only meant for those involved. A fitting tribute, allowing one of the two dances we're shown to go on for as long as we wish for it to, even if all good things must come to an end.

Being able to express oneself through your attire is a very important freedom. There isn't a particular moment I'd highlight when it comes to this topic, but it was fun to see the differences here when comparing Lilly's era to Lillie's. The design choices of the various encounters throughout the void also helped to establish it as an area detached from time. Doubtless there's something worth saying about the instances in which clothing was completely discarded, but I lack the confidence to give a fitting interpretation at current, so I'll leave that one be.

Your first proper inputs come in the form of pixel art - after adjusting your settings but before you're allowed to see the opening cutscene. It's an important part of Void Stranger's dna as you can see traces of the box-like style throughout the game and you'll need to use that box-like mindset to access its deeper layers. Furthermore, there's an entire language built around that dotted structure. As a bonus, it's a fun bit of flavor to see the type of brands people make when watching others' playthroughs.

Statues as an art form feel as though they peaked well before our time. They live on, however, and will hopefully never truly go away. I'll always wonder what happened to Add's statue, having said that..

Stained glass is fucking cool. Not much else I can think to say here.

The newest artform included, and yes I'm counting this one. The beautiful displays of bullet patterns are one of my favorite aspects of Touhou and part of why I originally dove into that series. You can't truly appreciate a shmup if you don't set some time aside to simply stare in awe at the various types of attacks. All the frustration I might've had dealing with Lev 2.0 is easily cast aside once I slip into the spectator's seat and can simply chow down on some popcorn. I still need to play Mystic Square by the way. Someday, I swear

Murals are also fucking cool. Not sure if it's the right attitude to have, but whenever I see displays on walls in the city I'm reminded of humanity's neverending drive to create. As I type this I do ponder what the first mural ever made was, no doubt lost to time. Whoever made it, whenever you existed, know that I see and acknowledge you here in 2026. It's fitting. FITTING. That in a game that mostly leans into static camera angles, the longest camera pan at the end of the fourth layer involves this incredible work, one that I once saw replicated in wplace. Easily my favorite of everything I saw when I browsed it.

Speaking of the static camera work.. It feels very inspired and intentional in its own right. The way each floor is its own, single screen is good for the sake of gameplay, but it's more than that. There's an instance in which the walls are nowhere to be found, and even in that case the transitions are instantaneous and screen by screen, similar to the likes of Jump King, Rain World, or the older Resident Evils. Furthermore, most of the story side of the game has a cadence to it that would fit perfectly in a manga. You can disagree, but I do feel a manga-like style was the goal for this game from start to finish. It's so easy to imagine the conversations in such a way. The sudden change-ups as characters had either dramatic or comedic outbursts feel right at home when viewed through such a lens. If every action from a given character's its own panel, then the grander displays would deserve their own page, maybe even two.

Void Stranger's not just a tribute to gaming, it's a tribute to art. Yeah, I'll make that claim. Maybe other games have showcased as many styles, if not more, and I either overlooked them or haven't gotten around to playing them. Regardless, System Erasure's the one that got me thinking about this, so I'm giving them the credit.

What brought about my awareness of every major and minor action I took as I played the game? It's hard to pin down. It's the meticulous kind of playstyle I normally try to put forth whenever I jump into a new venture, something that came about thanks to games like Undertale that encouraged the player to follow up on whims no matter how small, as they *could* be acknowledged. It was curiosity worth exploring. Sometimes it's a matter of actively looking, and sometimes it's a matter of taking the right action at the right time.

Pausing the game isn't normally seen as a key part of the gameplay, it's a necessary interaction that has only ever really seen change-ups thanks to games like Dark Souls, as its "can't PAUSE pause" mentality encouraged a "right place, right time" attitude for menuing to either quit the game or more often and more importantly to sort out one's equipment.

When it comes to Void Stranger there's three cases where pausing comes into play beyond what one would consider standard reason. In one instance, it's required to solve a puzzle. In another, you can potentially get jumpscared. The last and criminally easy to miss, is an array of character portraits of all the various folks you may bump into on your journey. You can only grab most of these if you happen to immediately pause after exchanging words with one of them, as those portraits are gone the second you leave that floor.

A necessary layer of interaction with the game, suddenly given a newfound purpose threefold. It's harder to showcase with screencaps, but I also learned of at least two instances where you can glean additional dialogue if you happen to mash through conversations as they aren't a case of exhausting words but instead concluded when one of the participants takes action. Yet another variable introduced on the devs part, of not just reading but reading fast (or more likely trying to skim as it's your 5th, 10th time through a particular scene). When you inevitably sit on a screen to take in a moment or ruminate on a puzzle, you may also notice Gray/Lillie/everyone else moves to the tempo of the current track. Again the game illustrates how even inaction is accounted for (thank you SystemErasure)

It's these little instances that may have been the catalyst in getting me to think and have so much to say here. It's one thing to be the type of story to account for an extensive list of the player's more important actions: ignoring a character, reloading, or having certain items equipped as some examples. It's another to consider when and where a player might opt to fuss with some menu settings, which fueled the curiosity to experiment more and more.

Going from the first to second to third layer are pretty standard and normal compared to what comes after, but even if you reach the "true end" via the fourth layer that isn't to say you've seen it all, if that is your goal. Interacting with the game in ways that make sense, that's the first four layers, anything after that requires a bit of illogical thinking, or thinking that goes beyond a line most games won't come close to.

There's not much to say about the third layer aside from the varying level of knowledge one may have going into it. The fourth includes a heavier array of meta puzzle workings that may cause you to never look at pixel art/boxes the same way again.

Along the way and at the end of the fourth layer is another type of varied interaction, a dance with various other genres, further changing up how you may view and engage with VS in a more literal sense.

It's funny how VS may wind up being a top 5 game for me now, but it's also funny how it's not the only top 5 game that dances with both shmups, dating sims, and an EX..

With the exception of the shmup portion, these genres are intended to be a brief detour that serve to reinforce particular story beats. I wouldn't claim to know the exact reason for including so many different styles, but I'm happy to settle on my own personal interpretations: it could be a simple showcase of the devs' inspirations. It could be a way of viewing this world through different lenses, a not so subtle lesson on changing one's point of view and way of thinking from time to time. It might also help to make these different moments stand out, as VS has something of a recurring theme of keeping you from getting comfortable.

You may think that's the extent of how one interacts with this game, there's no possible way it could go further and yeah you guessed it there's yet another layer. Layers, layers, layers. The not even playing the game layer! And no, this doesn't mean the part where you might want to draw up some fanart or play one of the tracks on guitar or type up a series of lengthy posts gushing about a new favorite in a particular way, I'm talking about playing Void Stranger while not playing it.

As I mentioned earlier, it's not too difficult to try and solve some floors while away from the game and going about your day, if you remember enough details to do so. The infamous tail puzzle is one that solvers tend to do with other programs (paint, in my case). There's an entire language to decode if you're so inclined and a decent amount of places to apply those translation efforts. This is the part where I'd strongly suggest grabbing the ost off bandcamp/steam, and not just because the music's great.. There's also a community puzzle (somehow the fourth from an indie game I really enjoy, and surely far from the last). It's funny to think that the interactive aspect of art I'm harping on about with these posts can also apply to the inevitable attempts of interacting with others familiar with a particular work, whether out of a shared love, hatred, or an attempt to find a healthy middleground.

One last layer of interaction I wanted to touch upon is one I didn't indulge in much myself. It makes sense, as this is an area that often requires its own independent spark, separate and isolated from every other way of engaging with art. It normally requires far more energy and motivation, so much so that it snowballs into its own creative expression. Mostly in the cases of positive experiences, one may be compelled to make fanart, a cosplay, or even an arrangement of a particular track. These are often born of previously practiced efforts in working with these particular crafts, though we all gotta start somewhere. There's a particular area I'm trying to touch on however, one that some may say goes a step beyond even this.

Sometimes a work hits in such a way that it inspires. Maybe seeing a concert encourages one to take up an instrument. Maybe watching a particular animated work compels one to start drawing. Start is the key word here, as it is a pledge to learn an entirely new skill set. A work of art so poignant that it motivates someone to learn, do some research, expand their knowledge beyond what the art itself conveys. Let's look at it this way - it's one thing for me to share my thoughts, feelings, and observations occasionally, but that's all me. I haven't looked up anything beyond what exists in the games I've blabbed about here, nor in the rarer cases when it wasn't a game (Homestuck, Land of the Lustrous).

There's always more to say, but I'd try to avoid stepping into areas in which I haven't done the research. Others however, they'll do that research. Sometimes a work of art is so, so good it motivates people to do that research and interact with, let's say, the art that inspired the art. Sometimes a work of art is so, so terrible that it can similarly incur such a drive. Should we call this layer meta^2, or meta, twice removed? Regardless, my upmost respect goes out to those that take that road, one fueled by an often incomparable fascination.

Anyways. There's plenty more I could go into regarding the different endings, the various order of operations one can find themselves in, and how it all can compare/contrast with others who've gone through the game, but I do feel I've made my case.

Oh, yeah, the idea of interaction and connection happens to be a theme of the game's story, I probably should've mentioned that.

The general gameplay of course doesn't require much to be said about it. You've got the basic directionals of up/down/left/right, tile by tile movement and your key item, a rod, that allows you to move floor tiles around in order to carve a path forward. If you were so inclined, you could rearrange most floors into any pattern you see fit before moving on. It's a very player expression type of game in that regard, and it offers that expression within the first couple minutes.

I do think it's a mistake to think a game can only be viewed as art if it can successfully replicate the feeling of a movie or book, as that sacrifices its own strengths to achieve a piece of work that is often confused with its own identity. If you want something to be a movie, make a movie. The Metal Gears of the gaming medium understand this (to an extent) by ensuring there's an experience gained from playing an active role in the events of the story, the levels, the objectives. There's also been some good work on the FMV side of gaming, but that's a different discussion for someone more experienced with that particular blending of arts.

As I was wrapping up my time with Void Stranger I started to finally consider this question and why I felt the answer was yes, games can and have been art this whole time. The brief explanation is that it's the interactive element that makes it unique compared to a painting, a book, a movie. Except, that's only partially true. It's less the fact an interactive element exists and moreso the extent to which you are interacting with a game, and even that can vary depending on the genre, amount of players, intended control scheme.. none of which are set in stone as gaming has much growth ahead of it yet.

Interaction also applies to how art's interpreted and evaluated. This happens when analyzing a book's story, a movie's cinematography, sound design. Hell, even architecture and day to day objects embody the idea of art within them. Even nature (especially nature). It's everywhere and a part of life that's easy to take for granted.

Not making the case that Void Stranger's the first truly artful game here. It simply embodies this definition I've settled on in a multitude of ways, perhaps more than any other game I've played up till now. Though memories are fickle and I couldn't say this with 100% certainty, I'm certain enough for a variety of reasons that'll be listed in their own post.

Tackling what I view as the standard definition of art for a minute, the game does indeed cover that as well - Striking visuals that fill in the moments between puzzle solving. Some exist on the surface while others are buried beneath various layers, both figuratively and literally. Despite the minimalist approach to the standard gameplay or more likely because of it, the contrast is dangerously sharp so as to stand out when it needs to.

It never failed to elevate the story sections. It always succeeded in giving me pause to think about the lore implications, stunlocking me for seconds, minutes, or causing me to dwell on the imagery long after I'd concluded a given session. What's the purpose? Can I interact with it? How? Has it already served its purpose? Whether it's credit to the devs or simply a good synergy I held with the game, I felt as though I could always tell before long (though determining exactly how a given scene fit into the grand scheme sometimes took dozens of hours)

The general visuals of each floor have a lot of value on their own as well. Deeper into the game I'd find myself calling a session on a particularly tough floor, or finding some way of bypassing it or a secondary objective tied to it that I'd then save for a later revisit. The rules of the game are straightforward enough once you get into the flow of things, and coupling said motions with said visuals left me in several situations where I could and would solve it as I thought about it later while I was doing some mundane task or attempting to sleep. It also helps that the floor sizes are uniform and compact enough that lingering on one for just a few minutes was enough to be able to recall it afterward.

Something that connects all of these games together is a simple term, layers. Iceberg is another fitting descriptor, and discussing the game via its layers is one way of helping to avoid spoilers. Generally. Sometimes. If the game's flexible enough in its design, this is likely far from a guarantee which leaves you in a position where you should really absolutely definitely conclude your experience (or at least most of it) before doing any browsing/open discussions with others that have also played through a given title. As I'll be recounting my own experiences, assume that's the case here, an entanglement of layers, and let's dive in.

The feeling of digging deeper, deeper, down down and all the way down. There's this inherent desire I have to break out of the confines of a level, a world in a game. If the game's world is designed in such a way where you can have this feeling curated for you the player, it can really enhance a given experience for folks like myself.

I've gotten myself out of bounds in many a game that likely didn't intend for it, the Half-Lifes being a somewhat recent example. The first thing I ever did when I booted up Minecraft back in 2010 was to dig to the bottom of the world. Haven't played it in years so I'm left to wonder if they ever wound up doing anything with that bedrock layer. As for something more curated, there's Hollow Knight (spoiler warning?), with an increasing level of unease packaged with every new region or subsection you can discover as you go deeper and deeper into the kingdom of Hallownest.

Meanwhile, in Void Stranger, you have floors starting with B001 which can tug at the curiosity immediately. Just how many floors will we be seeing? Chances are you'll think you've seen them all and be wrong at least half a dozen times, and that's an intentional underestimation.

Even as I type this I'm not 100% sure how the layers may be defined despite knowing 99% of the full scope of the game. If I were to define the first layer, personally, it'd be reaching the last floor. For some, the ones overwhelmed or the ones that don't get it, that'd suffice. It's in some ways comparable to Undertale's neutral ending in that way. Undertale... feels like a game everyone knows, everyone in this corner of the gaming world, anyways. Spoiler warning? Surely not, and yet..

Both games feel comparable in several ways, but this is perhaps the most important one. It may be conceited, and I admit to this flaw of mine, but I've come to view gaming through two lenses: playing a game vs. experiencing it (alternatively: consuming a product vs. appreciating a work of art). Some games lean more toward one of these two mindsets while others try to encompass both. I do believe every game can cater to both types depending on the person, their past, and the point in time in their lives. Similarly, some people more often play games than experience them and vice versa. I've seen people get the neutral ending of Undertale and quickly move on to the next item in their backlog. The same's happened with the first ending of Nier Automata, and I've no doubt some have heard Voided and moved on. Nothing wrong with that, as part of the layered approach is to try and satisfy those with differing levels of motivation/interest. A lesson I eventually learned from Animal Well.

Similar to Undertale, if you do reach "the end" yet feel there was something more and you let that suspicion guide you? That feeling can become a spark that lights the fuse of what becomes a powder keg of memories and emotions awaiting you. Nostalgic memories, painful feelings, happy moments, prideful victories and maybe a regretful loss or two if you get walled on the Tail puzzle (somehow I did not, but I paid the price with a two hour wall on a late game floor soon after...)

Aside from interest, there's one other factor that'll determine whether or not one pushes on to the deeper layers. It's something I simply accept given my time spent speedrunning and tackling some more intense challenges (Devil Daggers...) - it's the willingness to repeat content. Repetition is the death of fun for some outside of the roguelike/lite genres, but it's a core feature in some of my favorite games. After hearing how people were interested and yet still bounced off of Void Stranger, I realized the most common denominator was a resistance to repeating the many floors you solve for one reason or another.

If the look into Gray's past via the various dreams was a compelling display of background/motivation/art and you can handle the repetition? Then you'll be able to catch a glimpse of what the void's truly capable of and you should follow that motivation for as long as you can. Don't ask how I know.

I first played Hollow Knight in 2019. It was a wonderful journey, enough to compel me to 100% it achievements and all. I was late to the party, so I experienced it in its final state with the news of Silksong already beginning its journey to legendary waiting room status. When 2023 rolled around and my Game of all time in the form of Rain World: Downpour arrived, I dreaded the possibility of Silksong releasing alongside it (I spent 1.5 years on that dlc, very thoroughly dissecting it...)

Same as the previous post, but exclusive to Void Stranger (that is to say, heavily cropped screencaps of my favorite moments with it that hopefully spoil very little)