Topic: User Impressions/Reviews Thread

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Gnosia
Platform: Nintendo Switch
Completion Status: All unique events completed and skills collected; normal and true endings achieved.

There's a murderer among you.

You gather in a large room with your fellow crewmates for a makeshift trial, suspicion hanging heavy in the air. The spaceship's computer has confirmed that someone in your ranks is a gnosia, a mysterious alien life-form dedicated to the eradication of human life from the universe. The people around you look normal, at a glance, but the gnosia are talented at mimicking the speech and behavior of the people they impersonate, so you can't let your guard down, even for a second. Protocol for this situation calls for the alien to be put into cold sleep. And you have to find them soon, because every night that they spend undetected is a night that another crewmate is murdered in their sleep. The person who you recently partnered up with was the last to be attacked, and the loss of their confidence still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

Accusations begin to fly between the various people on your ship, but you know you have to play it cool. You can't allow yourself to be baited by someone or go in too hard on unsubstantiated accusations lest the tide of public opinion begin to turn on you. Although, in your darker moments, you ask yourself if it's even worth the trouble of sniffing out the gnosia, because this isn't your first time engaging in this process. Most of the other people in the room are none the wiser, and play their roles faithfully every time, but you have engaged in this same miserable stage-play countless times already. Whether you find the gnosia, whether the gnosia kill you, whether you're the only person left alive with a gnosia, whether you're helping the gnosia-- hell, whether you're the gnosia yourself-- it doesn't matter, because, once the situation is resolved one way or the other, you always find yourself waking up a few days prior, just as the computer confirms the presence of gnosia on the ship, stuck in some sort of temporal loop. You've tried everything now, you think, but the cycle always keeps recurring. Still, you keep pushing on, trying different things, learning more about your crewmates and the situation you're in over time, hopeful that something, anything, will illuminate why you're in this situation and, more importantly, how to get out of it. The one constant between loops is another crewmate, a green-haired woman named Setsu who you discover is also looping, and who is also looking for an exit.

Welcome to the world of Gnosia, a very recently localized Japanese indie game from fresh-faced developer Petit Depotto, a tiny outfit composed of four people. It initially launched as, of all things, a japanese-language PS Vita exclusive back in 2019, but a Nintendo Switch port released in Japan last April, and a localized version of the game was announced in a Nintendo Direct recently and released earlier this month. It's a game I've maintained some level of interest in since it first released in Japan, but I never expected to see it released State-side.

Pinpointing Gnosia's genre is a tricky thing. Presentation-wise, it sticks to a visual novel format, where you see dialogue next to character portraits, and choices you make in terms of your own dialogue can impact the way the game plays. Functionally, though, if the description of the gameplay earlier didn't clue you in, it's a social deduction game, like Mafia or Werewolf. The game features an xp system that allows you to level up a variety of stats related to your character's personality and cognition, though, which gives it a pronounced layer of RPG depth. Truly, it's one of the strangest and most unique video games I've ever played.

It's a game that simultaneously seems like it should be utterly shallow, but which hides a deep well of depth within the limited scope of its interactivity. Throughout the game, gameplay will be confined almost entirely to quick, round-based group discussions, where everyone in your group has to vote to put someone they suspect is a gnosia into cold sleep. The conversations themselves are shallow and almost entirely confined to broad declarations of truth or distrust: "[so and so] seems fishy. I don't trust them!" or "[so and so] is a good dude. I believe what they have to say." Additionally, when characters are called out or accused by others, you and the NPC characters around you can choose to either vouch for them or pile onto them by also announcing your distrust of them. Some sort of invisible metric determines who, at the end of the round, is voted out. If you're the person voted out, that 'session' of Gnosia ends, and you have to restart the loop all over again. If it doesn't, you can choose someone to visit with during the night. Generally, though, night-time visitations are pointless unless you've unlocked the conditions for viewing a unique event, but we'll come back to that later.

Assuming you survive the night (if you stick out too much, the gnosia can and will kill you in your sleep, thus booting you out of the gameplay session), you begin the process all over again the next day. Eventually, assuming you survive to the end, you either identify all of the gnosia and 'win,' or you eliminate too many of the actual humans on board and the gnosia take over, causing you to 'lose.' Either way, you're booted out of that gameplay session and are given the option to... begin another loop.

Sounds basic, right? Too simple, like there's hardly even a game here. But it's the systems that the game begins to layer in as you play through it that give it its addictive qualities and depth. Certainly, at the beginning, my feelings on Gnosia were mixed: while the game was constantly introducing new mechanics and party members throughout each loop, my own role felt superfluous. The first several loops can feel frustratingly RNG-based in terms of what happens, because your stats are so low at that point that you have no ability to really sway the broader social consensus people are reaching around you.

I guess I should explain the stat system that I keep referencing. Your character's ability to succeed in conversations is partly determined by how much experience has been invested into six areas of their personal development: charisma, intuition, logic, charm, performance, and stealth. Some of these stats are heavily interdependent, and are pointless to discuss in isolation. Charisma and logic, for example, both govern your ability to sway people with your words. Higher levels of intuition make it more likely that your character will be able to detect when others are lying, although, even at max, it's still a dice roll. Charm makes you more likable, and thus less likely to be targeted by other humans. Performance and stealth are most useful when you're playing as a gnosia yourself: the former governs your ability to convincingly lie, and the latter makes it less likely for the humans to pick up on you not being humans.

The progression here, as with almost every other aspect of the game, is satisfyingly holistic, because it makes sense, in-universe, that someone would start out having no ability to be able to sway a group of strangers, but, through constant repetition, become better and better at learning how to manipulate the people around them. If this were the sole element determining success in conversations, though, then the game would be boring. A simple numbers game where you grind and grind and then get to the point where you're always able to win conversations. The other key element to gaining mastery over the direction conversations go is, in my opinion, far more interesting. Because even if you're maxed out your levels, you're still vulnerable to commands being deployed against you.

Commands (aside from the normal ones you learn near the start of the game) are powerful actions that you are able to learn when you meet specific requirements in a given loop and unlock unique night-time events and smaller storylines. Most of the commands you'll learn are locked behind stat thresholds. Refer to the names of a few above, which will probably give you a sense of how they might be used. Tactical, considered deployment of these commands can make all the difference in a conversation. And you'll want to quickly learn how to best make use of them, because several NPCs make often devastating use of these actions themselves against you, and this can alter how you approach a situation.

For example, one particularly memorable storyline involved one of the characters, an icy young woman named Yuriko, challenging me to convince everyone else to put her into cold sleep before the end of the loop. This was her stated condition for revealing a crucial bit of background info to my character. Attempting to undermine her credibility head-on was suicide, though, because she possessed a powerful command that allowed her to essentially deflect suspicion heavily onto anyone who dared to target her. So, instead, I had to spend multiple rounds both trying to keep her alive (more on that in a bit) and subtly undermining group trust in her by using skills that allowed me to exaggerate the danger she posed when others attacked her directly.

What sort of commands you'll be making use of in a loop is also heavily dependent on what role you're playing, though.

When the game first starts, the victory condition is fairly vanilla: sniff out the gnosia and survive to the end. This involves puzzling out who you think is lying while also keeping a low-enough profile that you don't draw too much attention from your would-be murderer. There is, of course, a lot involved with this, and the potential range for storylines, events, and strategizing within this sort of loop is large on its own, but the game would get old quickly if you were just trying to do the same thing every time, right?

Now, not every role in the game alters the broader goal of sniffing out gnosia, but all of them change how you'll play the game somewhat. Within the context of vanilla gameplay, you can play: as a crew member, who has no special powers; as someone on guard duty, who didn't leave the ship before the gnosia infiltration and thus has no need to prove their humanity, but who is automatically more of a target for the gnosia; as an engineer, whose unique ability is to investigate someone every night and determine whether they're human or gnosia; as a guardian angel, who is able to prevent someone from being killed every night; or as a doctor, who is able to determine whether the person put into cold sleep each round was gnosia or human. The doctor and engineer roles are especially powerful, but they also put you in more danger: in order to make any use of your skills, you have to reveal your role to the group, and doing so automatically makes you a higher value target for the gnosia, who will want to kill you and prevent your skill from being deployed against them.

Three additional roles flip the script completely, though. Sometimes you'll be tasked as playing as one of the gnosia, which obviously changes the feel of the game completely. Instead of a mystery where you're trying to sniff out a traitor, you're actively eliminating people one by one while trying as much as possible to deflect attention away from you or your allies. Perhaps more interesting are the AC Followers and Bugs.

AC Followers (short for "Anti-Cosmic") are probably the most involved role. The player is told that they're fanatics who worship Gnos and seek to aid the gnosia in eliminating humans from the universe, and so, when you play as one, your goal is to help the gnosia win in that loop. The interesting thing about this is that you don't know who the gnosia are, and they also have no idea who you are, so you have to tread a very thin line: you want the bad guys to win, but you have to find out who they are first, like you would if you were a crew member. At the same time, you have to confuse proceedings and try throw suspicion onto people you know are human in order to succeed in your goal of giving the ship to the gnosia. Stand out too much, though, and you'll be put into cold sleep. Gnosia also have no idea that you're trying to help them, so you also have to try and avoid gaining attention from them for as long as possible.

Both Gnosia and AC Followers will eventually be able to take deceptive actions such as claiming roles that they don't actually fill, so, later in the game, you rarely go a loop without multiple people claiming to be engineers or multiple people claiming to be doctors. You have to be careful with this, though. Claiming to be something you're not will obviously attract intense suspicion from the person whose role you're impersonating, but also, if the actual engineer or doctor is proven to be human, then the surprisingly smart NPCs in this game will only be a step away from deducing that this, by extension, makes you a liar and, thus, a threat. If you're as a gnosia, you also want to make sure you don't immediately kill the only other person who claims to be a doctor or engineer, since this will also automatically throw suspicion onto you.

The bug is the weirdest role in the game. Bugs are like cosmic mistakes of a sort, and allowing them to survive to the end of the loop will result in the universe destroying itself. They can't be killed by gnosia, so you either have to vote them into cold sleep or investigate them as an engineer (or hope that the engineer gets lucky if you're not playing that role). When you're playing as a human, this means one more threat to try and suss out, and it makes trying to defend the real engineer from both attack and cold sleep that much more important. As a gnosia, the presence of bugs is complicated, because it makes the often uncomplicated decision to murder the engineer (if you're not posing as them, at least) riskier: you DON'T want the engineer to identify you as a gnosia, but, at the same time, you'll want to keep them around long enough to potentially root out the bug. It's a complex trade-off of risks. When YOU are the bug, you can also lie, like the AC Follower and Gnosia, as you no longer need to worry about keeping your human teammates alive. All that matters when you're the bug is surviving to the end so that you can wipe out the universe.

Early on in Gnosia, you're given a "key" by the other character who also remembers looping through realities. This key is what allows you to remember and partially control the content of loops. When it starts out, you can only really control the number of gnosia and participants within a loop, but as time goes on, you gain more control and can also customize the types of roles that'll show up in a loop, which you'll want to change as you hunt around between loops for more unique events that'll help you learn commands, learn more about other characters, and hopefully find out how to escape the eternal return you're stuck in. Certain keystone events will also activate in specific loops, regardless of your progress through the game otherwise. The real game-changer, though, is when the "event seeker" activates, which allows you to randomize loop conditions in such a way as to make unique character events more likely to crop up. It's a well-considered addition, as there are points in the middle of the game where you'll feel like you're grinding loops over and over without making any progress. Which leads me to one of my primary criticisms of the game.

It's stunningly repetitive. Obviously, this is by design: the game is explicitly about a character experiencing events in the same span of time over and over, for god's sake, but it's still annoying when you'll go five-to-ten loops in a role without learning anything new, gaining any new commands, or progressing the story in any real way. This is exacerbated by how limited the in-game interactivity is, as the only 'gameplay' here is in these debates you're having with your crewmates. It also doesn't help that night-time social interactions are a waste of time (usually only one short line) when they're not events, which makes me wonder if more work could have been put into the social interaction aspect of the game.

It can also be a bit arcane when it comes to revealing how you'll be able to progress the story. Each character bio has a notes section that is filled in as you learn more about everyone, and a few of these notes hint that you'll need to be gnosia or human to trigger the interaction, but otherwise the game leaves you to your own devices when it comes to figuring out the precise conditions for unlocking more unique content. To the game's credit, I figured out how to unlock probably 90% of the game's content naturally, as I played the game and experimented, but there were, admittedly, a few very tricky events that saw me going online to seek out information from other people. I don't think the game necessarily requires a guide to complete, but I do think Gnosia would be well-served by throwing the player a bone more often. The thrill of discovery is awesome, and you get that feeling frequently throughout the game, but for such a short experience (20ish hours), there were too many points where I felt like I was stuck in a rut.

With all that said, the game does so much right that it's easy to forgive the wrinkles in the experience. Despite the strange structure of it occasionally chafing with my patience, I was ultimately really impressed with how well it all came together. Of course, most of this is on the writing. The world-building, exploration of themes relating to identity and transhumanism, and especially the mind-bending plot are very well done and give me the feeling that the events chronicled within this game are part of a larger universe. It's the sort of cohesive, satisfying illusion I only rarely experience with games. The character writing is also equally important here: everybody feels unique and fully-realized as a character, and I really came to miss this cast of absolute weirdos by the time I was fully done with the game (when I say weird, by the way, I don't mean quirky: I mean there's stuff like a sentient, bipedal beluga whale or a dude with an actual cat surgically attached to his neck). Of course, the original writers are only half the equation here: I don't know how accurate the game's localization is, but the translators did a great job of capturing each character's unique voice.

On a semi-related note, in a nice, progressive nod from the developers, the player is able to identify as "male," "female," or "non-binary," and, based on the very little bit of research I did on other options (I played as an enby), this both alters some of the scenes you're subject to as well as the pronouns (or lack thereof) used when characters are talking about you. I do have to wonder how horny the game gets if you identify as a male, though, because some of the girls in this game, well... (refer below)

It's worth mentioning that you get somewhat intimate encounters with certain male characters as well, although they're more intentionally comedic (and spoilery, so I'm not posting them). I'm guessing this overlap of male/female affection doesn't really exist if you go for a fully male or female character.

Anyway, the game is a treat for the eyes as well. As you, dear reader, can probably tell from the included screenshots, the art style is quite vivid. I think it's absolutely mesmerizing, although I do recall other people I talked to telling me they thought the characters looked ugly. I guess there's a marmite quality to the art, but it's a massive plus for me, and I'm so glad the game's artist didn't opt for more generic anime designs.

I do want to mention that I think this works better as a pure handheld game than as a hybrid game, though. The art looked a bit soft on my TV, but in handheld mode, or especially when played on my Lite, there was a satisfying sharpness to everything. The sometimes-repetitive gameplay is also, frankly, suited to a handheld. None of this should be surprising, though, given it was originally a PS Vita exclusive. It's rather a shame this never came overseas on Sony's little-handheld-that-could, actually: I'm sure this title would have looked gorgeous on the original model's OLED screen.

The music is... interesting. Very limited, and usually very strange. I'm actually not even sure if I like the music or not. It certainly didn't detract from the experience, though, and only stands out insofar as it's one of the few aspects of the production I didn't absolutely love.

One final, unrelated note for the prospective player: once you've hit the point in the game where you think it's over... it's not. There's a bit more to it, even if this fact isn't readily apparent. There's a bit of intuition needed, but the reward is unlocking an ultimately more satisfying ending.

It took a bit of time for me to figure out how I wanted to tackle this review, since the game is so unusual. It's absolutely worth experiencing, though. There's a richness to the experience that only becomes apparent after you really dig into it. As an indie from a tiny, no-name developer, it's super impressive, and could easily pass as a retail title. The fascinating worldbuilding, memorable characters, and layered, unusual gameplay add up to make this an umissable title that will almost certainly develop a cult appeal over time. As it stands now, it merely has to settle for being one of the best non-retail experiences available on Nintendo's hybrid system. Gnosia gets an 8/10 from me.

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The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword

Platform: Wii (2011, version played); Switch (upcoming, 2021)

The saying goes that there are a few certainties in life: death, taxes and Zelda hype. After years of intense anticipation, understandable given this was Link’s first console adventure since 2006’s Twilight Princess, Skyward Sword finally arrived on store shelves in November 2011. A swansong of sorts for the geriatric Wii, and one of only a handful of titles to require the Wii Motion+ accessory that enabled more accurate gyroscopic controls, players wondered if the game could accomplish what few had before it and fully realise the unique potential of the system. Throughout this period there was quite an extreme polarisation of opinion on motion controls, and this in turn rendered Skyward Sword one of the most divisive games in the series, with players both loving and deriding its control scheme in equal measure. Many critics pointed out that aside from this same control scheme the game seemingly did little to evolve the well-worn “Zelda formula” that had been in place since Ocarina of Time. The need for separate hardware and very late release arguably contributed to Skyward Sword being one of the lowest selling mainline Zelda games, and its reputation as an outcast has been hard for it to shake. The upcoming release of the HD Remaster therefore provides an interesting opportunity for more detailed analysis of what has become one of the most notorious entries in the venerable series.

Intended as a prequel to the entire Zelda series, Skyward Sword chronicles the creation of the Master Sword and works as an origin tale of the courageous spirit of the hero, the wise soul of Zelda, and the evil that constantly plagues Hyrule. Our story begins in Skyloft, a small town floating high in the air that houses the last remnants of humanity following a cataclysm thousands of years prior. It’s not long before certain events transpire and Link must leave this sleepy existence to descend to the surface, a dangerous place hidden below a deep layer of cloud that Skyloft’s citizens believed to be completely inhospitable. Here his quest begins proper, and in classic Zelda fare Link must traverse the overworld, brave dungeons for sacred items, and put an end to a grave new threat. At its core the game is a rather basic tale of good triumphing over evil, yet the relationship between Link, Zelda and the villains provides a surprisingly sinister edge. The secondary villain, Demise, functions not simply as a physical entity for Link to vanquish, but as a concept - the notion that evil will exist in Hyrule in perpetuity. In his dying breath Demise curses Link and Zelda, binding their souls to this evil. Where the story lacks depth it more than succeeds in how its presented, courtesy of a localised script that is full of flair and creativity, as well as a raft of surprisingly well-produced cutscenes and a sensational score. Cutscenes all utilise motion-captured animation for the main characters, lending a more cinematic style. Curiously enough characters lips move, yet outside the usual grunts, hiyaahs and a gorgeous song performed by Zelda, there is no voice acting.

The best parts of the script are the lines delivered by the wonderfully flamboyant primary antagonist, Ghirahim.

As the 25th anniversary game, Skyward Sword is a celebration of sorts, and certain references and throwbacks are dotted throughout. One of my favourites is the way in which Link cautiously descends into dungeons, referencing the very first The Legend of Zelda. His apprehension is palpable in the moments before he steels his courage and moves down the steps. The Knight’s Academy where Link and Zelda go to school is also in its 25th year, and the headmaster strongly resembles the wise owl Kaepora Gaebora. Zelda games frequently recycle concepts and characters, but here it feels like a genuine celebration rather than falling back on tropes.

In what seemed like baby steps in previous titles, characterisation is further expanded. Zelda herself is a particularly wonderful character. Strong and wilful, at the beginning of the adventure she is Link’s defender, protecting him from school bullies. It’s interesting how, initially at least, their traditional roles are subverted. It feels as though particular care has been taken to flesh out the characters and craft a strong emotional core at the centre of the game. In this it succeeds, and as a result Zelda and Link’s relationship feels genuine and sweet. Ultimately, by the end of the adventure Zelda reverts to a more traditional damsel role, but the earlier depth and certain story revelations helps mitigate any eye rolls. Link himself is viewed as lazy and ditzy with his head in the clouds, and is far from being the strong, stoic hero we may expect. Although a traditional silent protagonist, he sees growth in tandem with Zelda, and curiously his personality is reflected through the eyes of those around him. The bully of the piece, Groose, also sees some surprising growth and by the end of the game has arrived at a place of mutual respect with Link.

Fi

Fi: Mistress of the Sword and Marchioness of State the Obvious. She’s Skyward Sword’s faithful companion character and immediately assumes that all players are absolute imbeciles. Walk around an area for a bit without progressing the story, and Fi will offer, “Master, I believe you’re meant to go to this place”. If the batteries in the Wii Remote drain a little she’ll relentlessly berate the player to change them, even if there are still several hours worth of charge left. She’s at her most obnoxious when she advises the player take a break after they’ve been playing for all of half an hour. This is “hey, listen” pumped up on coke and absinthe: a cyborg Hyacinth Bucket nagging Link to mind the bump and not run over a pedestrian on the pavement several hundred feed away. Nintendo’s desire to wrap the Wii’s vast non-gamer audience in cotton wool is admirable, but let’s be honest, Betty and Gladys aren’t likely to be the ones playing a Zelda game in the first place. Most other gamers perhaps won’t need reminding to take an afternoon nap or rinse their dentures. Fi’s personality is otherwise bland. She’s a dispassionate AI construct who speaks in monotone gibberish and enjoys offering such helpful insights as the percentage likelihood of locating an important item in Link’s current area or the chances of rain. As it happens she’s wrong on both counts. Link will never fail to find what he’s looking for and it never rains. She’s an unfortunate step back after Twilight Princess’ incarnation of Link was accompanied by the deliciously spiteful Midna, and even The Minish Cap saw him travel with a cantankerous talking hat. Fi’s most useful gameplay utility is providing optional information on targeted enemies, but only after some time has been spent battling them.

This image of Faron Woods typifies the game's art style

Skyward Sword utilises a beautiful impressionist aesthetic that is heavily influenced by the work of 19th century painter Paul Cézanne. Though controversial at the time, the game’s graphics have aged gracefully and it arguably renders Skyward Sword one of the Wii’s more visually striking titles. Environmental textures are each made up of a series of coloured dots and brush strokes of varying hues and tones. This helps mask the hardware’s innate visual limitations, from its lack of adequate texture filtering to the low render resolution. The style was a very wise choice given the Wii’s technical shortcomings and the unsatisfactory appearance of low resolution games on the HD sets of the time. Additionally, rather than have backgrounds appear a jagged, shimmering mess, at a certain distance from the foreground the image blurs into a gorgeous impressionist-style painting. Although the game does appear soft on modern televisions, it’s colourful and generally sticks to brighter hues, with degree of whimsy not seen since The Wind Waker - arguably a reaction to criticism of Twilight Princess’ more muted pastels.
Hideous character designs are de rigeuer for the Zelda series, and here they are somewhat hit-and-miss, although their simple multi-tone shading and bold colours blend nicely with the game’s wider art stye. Link himself appears as though he may have had some botched cosmetic procedures, but Zelda looks lovely. The assortment of creatures and non-human species are delightful, particularly the plant-animal hybrid Kikwi that populate Faron Woods, and the cute robots of Lanayru Desert. Thankfully there’s nothing that compares to the horrors of Twilight Princess, whose Ordon Village monstrosities seemed to have been birthed in The Cabinet of Dr Caligrari.

Examples of Paul Cézanne's work

It is perhaps an understatement to state that Skyward Sword’s score is almost deliriously wonderful. A rich tapestry of sound it is soaring, beautiful, majestic and glorious. Zelda music has long been excellent, but this marked the first time a full orchestra was employed for gameplay sequences. As with many other Japanese games the score tells a full story, with a beginning, middle and end. It rouses emotions, stirs images of places and creates rich aural textures. Some of the tunes have quite a quirky sound, conveying the otherworldliness of the surface; it’s uncharted territory for the sky dwellers, after all. Some convey simple feelings of joy, affording the listener a peek at the affection Link, Zelda and other characters feel for one another. Other pieces arouse fear, creating a sense of place in dark, foreboding caverns and treacherous hellscapes. The dungeon music in previous Zelda games tends to focus more on ambience in order to create specific mood, whilst not distracting from the gameplay itself. Skyward Sword’s dungeons have more distinct melodies, contributing to the richer overall sound. The first dungeon proper, Skyview Temple, has a cloying, creepy atmosphere. A distinctive bassoon with audible clicks underpins the score and ensnares the listener, reeling them in to the horror of the dungeon’s depths. The music gets louder and more intense the further the player descends, adding increasing layers of instrumentation before finally reaching its crescendo in the innermost sanctum. After the boss is defeated and Link moves to a sacred spring, the music becomes soothing and peaceful, rewarding the player for a job well done.

Presentational aspects and thematic concepts are tightly weaved with the gameplay itself, and feel organic and co-dependant. This is not exactly unusual for the series, although typically the developers would design certain dungeons and then build the aesthetics, surrounding areas and quest structures around them. Skyward Sword’s dungeon design is arguably a series best, and each is a joy to go through. Most are considerably shorter than Twilight Princess’ brilliant, but gargantuan labyrinths. Fortunately, all are thoughtfully crafted and full to the brim with cleverly designed puzzles. With a renewed focus on ways to surprise and excite the player, the game carefully eschews certain aspects of Zelda’s well-worn blueprint, choosing to indulge in more lateral puzzle design. Pleasingly there’s not a torch puzzle in sight. There is also some degree of streamlining, with the map and compass combined into a single item.

Whilst the dungeons of previous 3D Zelda games have dabbled with interesting visual and gameplay themes, Skyward Sword ramps this up further and toys with player expectations. For example, in the sandy Lanayru Desert region the dungeons are not traditional desert archetypes: one is a decrepit mining facility full of time-worn, rusted machines, while a later dungeon is set on an ancient pirate ship. In both Link must exploit temporal rifts in order to solve puzzles and progress. These Lanayru time stones are an exceptional puzzle mechanic. When hit with a weapon or projectile the resulting distortions affect their immediate environment by reverting them to the world that existed thousands of years in the past. As the Lanayru of the present is a desert full of sinking sand and rusted contraptions, this brings life to the area. Lush ground appears allowing Link to safely stand and reawakens the ancient machines and robots.

Skyview Temple appears to have been an ancient place of worship, which over the millennia has fallen into disrepair and been consumed by evil. Although elements of its former beauty are on display – particularly in the central rotunda - the temple is now primarily inhabited by giant skulltula spiders, their thick, sticky webs blocking the various passages. Spiders, perhaps as a result of their role in nature, may be viewed as a dark, corrupting force – venomous and sucking the lifeforce from their prey. That they are the primary inhabitants of Skyview suggests that something is extremely wrong.
A later dungeon is based on the Japanese children’s story A Spider’s Silk. Upon first entering the Ancient Cistern Link is presented with a veritable paradise that is bathed in light, quite unlike the other dungeons up to this point, all of which appeared corrupted or ruined in some way. Clear, sparkling waters are dotted with lotus flowers, and an immense Buddha statue forms the centrepiece of the exquisite palace. However, there’s almost something disconcerting about this and the player is forced to question why a place of such beauty exists when the rest of the land is tainted by evil. It’s a distraction, surely? As Link ventures deeper into the structure he comes across a pool with a closed drain and no other way to proceed. After successfully completing the room’s puzzle and opening the drain all that’s left to do is dive into the pool and reap the rewards of a job well done. Unfortunately, things don’t go to plan and Link is unexpectedly – or not - sucked into the pipe. The screen fades to black, accompanied by an elongated, disconcerting “zhoom” sound, and upon waking Link finds that he has fallen into the grotesque depths of the dungeon’s underworld, a place tainted by a miasma, pools of poison and the undead. After being taunted by these zombie bokoblins it becomes apparent that Link has fallen into hell. In the distance he sees a solitary, glistening spider’s thread hanging from above, which seems to be the exit. After eventually reaching the silk, Link begins to climb, gazing at the blinding portal of light above. The army of zombies follow him up the thread, attempting to drag him back down. Although in the game Link succeeds at escaping, in the original Japanese fable the silk is dropped from its heavenly anchor after the protagonist refuses to allow the rest of the damned to escape – despite the thread being strong enough to support everyone. The duality of light and dark, or good and evil, that the dungeon so explicitly explores lies at the heart of the themes weaved throughout Skyward Sword, if not the wider Zelda series.

Ancient Cistern

Silent Realms are areas that exist on mysterious otherworldly plane, and are a stroke of design genius. In these areas all of Link’s weapons and items are stripped away, leaving only his stamina meter, wits and platforming prowess. Utilising the maps of each overworld region, these are dangerous and tense areas where Link is tasked with collecting “sacred tears” in order to be gifted an important item or weapon from the goddess. Sacred tears are similar in function to Twilight Princess’ much maligned Tears of Light, rendering them a slightly cheeky addition. Mastery of each environment is critical to success, particularly in planning a viable route. Hulking Guardians that dot the map will immediately hunt Link down if he’s spotted by the creatively named Watchers, or if the brief protection gained from obtaining a sacred tear runs out. If he’s struck by a Guardian the challenge is failed and the Silent Realm must be restarted.

In Zelda games of old the quickest way for Link to travel on foot was by awkwardly hammering the A button. Accompanied by his trademark grunts this would cause him to repeatedly forward roll, somehow without being impaled by the medieval armoury stored in his tunic. Perhaps inspired to act by a series of pending repetitive strain class action lawsuits, Nintendo made the inspiring decision to gift Link the power of sprinting. A monkey’s paw of sorts, sprinting can only be done in short bursts and only through utilisation of the much loved stamina meter. As if timed by Satan’s stopwatch itself, this allows for short bursts of speed, enabling Link to not only sprint but run up vertical walls and slopes. It’s also utilised when climbing up vines or carrying and pushing heavy objects, which is a strange design decision given there were no such restrictions in previous titles.

Link’s newfound athleticism in turn opens up the level design, abandoning old conventions and player expectations of what a post-Ocarina overworld should be, thus creating a raft of new possibilities and allowing for a degree of environmental interaction more akin to that of a 3D Mario platformer. Naturally, Link’s jump is still automatically triggered when approaching the edge of a platform. The next step of enabling manual jumps would come with Breath of the Wild. Overworld areas are arguably more intricately crafted than in previous 3D Zelda games, with a gameplay and puzzle density comparable to dungeons themselves. This was noted as a deliberate design priority by the game’s development leads in Iwata Asks. While the traditional line separating dungeon and overworld is blurred slightly, it gives the areas considerably more purpose that simply being used to get from point A to point B. There are typically barriers to Link progressing through an area, such as lakes of quicksand, sealed doors, or a ledge that is otherwise too high to reach. Navigating these barriers and calculating the way forward therefore comprises the bulk of the gameplay on the overworld.

An emphasis on terrain verticality permeates the level design of the entire game. This may be something as small as a chest or switch hidden in a wall hollow, or the design language of an entire area. For instance, at Eldin Volcano, a perilous mountain surrounded by rivers of lava, there are a series of steep sand slopes and quasi-platforming challenges that must be navigated in order to reach the dungeons perched atop the summit. Getting there requires full use of the sprint feature and careful consideration of the stamina meter. Although the stamina meter quickly depletes when running, particularly over pools of quicksand, it is large enough to provide just enough stamina to reach a required platform or solve a specific puzzle. This suggests that great care was taken in the level design and precise placement of platforms. However, It adds a layer of abstraction that at times feels unnecessary, and while it’s reasonable to question why there needs to be a meter in the first place, the feature is generally well utilised throughout. One downside is that once the meter is fully depleted Link becomes temporarily exhausted and unable to perform any actions, leaving him extremely vulnerable to enemy attacks. Although the meter replenishes quite quickly, “stamina berries” that immediately refill it are generously dotted across the terrain, particularly in areas that require Link to sprint up slopes or across sand.

Eldin Volcano

While we’ve explored how Skyward Sword has no traditional overworld, each region is further treated as an isolated and insular locale. There’s nothing that physically links the three main areas of the Surface, which is an odd decision given the series’ design lineage. Each discrete location is accessed via the Sky, with Link’s trusty Crimson Loftwing bird used to fly to an entry point. It’s not a particularly graceful means of traversing between areas, particularly given the Loftwing is controlled using the gyroscope. At times frustration sets in, such as when an item required to continue the story is in an entirely different location, or when completing side-quests that necessitate excursions to the surface and back again. There is also no fast travel between overworld areas, which had been a staple of the series since Link’s Awakening. In its place players can select a “landing point” activated by using the various save statues scattered throughout the game.

In turn, the game is almost excessively linear. Dungeon order aside, previous 3D adventures provided certain opportunities to explore and go off the beaten path. Here, the small overworld areas, deliberate puzzle design and clear quest structures all contribute to this being most linear Zelda yet. For some this is a dirty world, and while many have argued that this is the antithesis of what the series should be - something almost certainly addressed by Breath of the Wild - the larger issue is actually how certain sections are mired by odd pacing and gameplay padding, particularly at the mid-point and end-game.
One mandatory fetch quest sees Link return to the first dungeon simply to obtain some “sacred water” for a grumpy dragon, which means going through most of the level again. Additionally, a particularly frustrating boss must be fought on three separate occasions, none of which could be called a gameplay highlight. Although Skyward Sword is not as big as Twilight Princess it is not a particularly short game either, and could have arguably done away with bizarre vignettes designed simply to extend the experience. In the aforementioned Iwata Asks the designers explained that they wanted to focus on environmental density with more for the player to do in each area, rather than having a particularly large world. This was perhaps a direct response to the criticism Twilight Princess received for its large but relatively barren overworld. As a result of having only three main areas, each is returned to multiple times throughout the game. These visits are mostly interesting, particularly in the wonderful Lanayru Desert, but in Faron Woods the aforementioned dragon strikes again, tasking the player with collecting a number of musical tadpoles because she’s in a bad mood and decided to flood the area. Weird? Certainly. Does it “fit” in a Zelda game? Not really. Particularly given swimming is controlled with the Wii Remote and is a largely wretched experience.

Link’s repertoire of items is notably smaller than in previous games, perhaps a response to criticisms that some items in Twilight Princess were not well utilised outside of the dungeons they were obtained in. In Skyward Sword almost everything is important and used throughout Link’s quest. Items are all accessed through a radial dial akin to that seen in the original Twilight Princess, and can be automatically selected by moving the Wii remote in the required direction. Once the player memorises their placement it makes item selection extremely quick, therefore eradicating old frustrations that stemmed from needing to constantly open menus. Staples such as the bow and arrow, bombs and slingshot return, as well as the digging mitts from The Minish Cap, joyfully used to dig up treasures and burrow underground. For the first time Link can pick live bomb flowers and store them in his pouch for later use, which is a big improvement on earlier games. One prominent omission is the boomerang, a casualty of the single-minded move to waggle, as Aonuma and his team could not find a satisfying way for the throwable to be controlled. In its place there’s the “Beetle”, a flying contraption that is manoeuvred with the Wii Remote’s gyroscope and can be used to grab items such as rupees and live bombs, stun enemies and cut certain ropes. It’s an effective and useful tool with far more utility than the boomerang, although purists may lament the loss of the erstwhile projectile. Another nicely implemented item is the whip, previously seen in Spirit Tracks and serving a similar function to The Wind Waker and Phantom Hourglass’ grappling hook. Here it’s controlled by performing a physical lashing motion with the remote, producing a satisfying whipping sound from the device’s tinny speaker. Other items don’t fare nearly as well. The Gust Bellows blow a mystical air that’s used to clear sand and dust or propel Link on mechanical platforms, primarily in the first desert dungeon. It’s a nice idea on paper, but in practice is fiddly and falls prey to imprecise controls; the bellows are aimed with the Wii Remote while Link’s direction and movement is simultaneously controlled with the Nunchuck’s analogue stick.

With any console game that utilises motion controls the same question always lingers: is this better than using a traditional controller? Whilst pointing, swinging and shaking may well be fun in certain games, there is an innate intuitiveness and commonality to regular input methods that Wii waggle at times struggled to replicate. This was sometimes because developers were attempting to solve a problem that never existed in the first place, working on the assumption that traditional gamepads were inadequate. Many simply shoehorned them in out of obligation. Skyward Sword is arguably predicated in its entirety on the usage of Wii Motion Plus, to the point where it almost becomes inseparable from this control scheme. Although this makes the question more difficult to answer, older Zelda titles form a useful point of reference. For instance, one area where the Wii remote offers improvement is in aiming projectile weapons such as slingshot pellets, arrows or the clawshot. Few would argue that pointing at the television is not intuitive, quicker and more precise than moving an analogue stick. Whilst Skyward Sword’s swordplay sees advancement over the madcap, imprecise slashes of the Wii version of Twilight Princess – a game that literally mapped the original GameCube button presses to a swing of the remote – here many players would perhaps still find it preferable to press a button given that it is quicker and requires less physical exertion. Then there are actions that feel as though they were inserted simply to find a use for the Wii Remote, rather than being an organic component of the gameplay experience. It is here the novelty begins to wear a little thin. Sword dousing is a new feature where the game adopts a first-person perspective and utilises the pointer function to “douse” for important items. It’s a neat idea, in theory, but feels unnecessary. Other items have fallen prey to the game’s insatiable need to prove the worth of the Wii remote. For instance, bombs can either be thrown or rolled on the ground by swinging the remote in an underarm or overarm batting motion, while their trajectory is set by the analogue stick. Rolling is particularly fiddly, leaving one to wonder why a button press couldn’t have sufficed.

Of course, all this is well and good when the controls work, and while the technical foundations are largely solid there are some quirks, such the need to calibrate the remote every time it is turned on. Additionally, if the pointer loses its bearing it can be re-centred by pressing down on the d-pad.The biggest issue is that wireless signals such as those emitted by smartphones and other modern devices can interfere with the Wii Remote Plus’ own signal, causing the controls to either go haywire or momentarily stop working. This issue occurred multiple times and to varying degrees throughout my latest playthrough – the worst during the end-game enemy gauntlet - and whilst the average home is now full of more devices than in 2011, it is hard to imagine that Nintendo could not envisage this being a problem, particularly given an embarrassing E3 stage demonstration. Thankfully, this particular issue is something that will be fixed by the game’s move to the Switch.

The combat system seems to have been primarily constructed around one-on-one combat, emphasising the strengths of the Wii’s unique input. Humanoid enemies such as Bokoblins and Ghirahim tend to mirror Link’s movements and frequently block attacks, necessitating precision and an ability to predict their patterns. Gone are the days of mindlessly spamming an attack button or wildly swinging the Wii Remote, replaced by precise swipes and slashes. In some ways it reminds me of the combat in Severed, only using a motion controller instead of a touchscreen. Most enemies have a tell when they are about to attack or become vulnerable. When combined with the precision of the remote’s attacks one can see why some fans have likened combat to a puzzle. Additionally, most monsters, including bosses, are comparable in size to Link himself, further highlighting the emphasis on one-to-one precision combat. When the controls play ball everything works rather well; it’s both precise and tactile and offers a nice level of feedback. Nintendo’s PR and the Wii’s reputation may give the impression that exaggerated motions and heaving full-body spasms are needed to control the game, but the required movements are actually far more subtle and the game can be quite comfortably enjoyed sitting down. Targeting no longer locks and automates where an attack will land as in previous Zelda games, instead focusing the camera and Link’s attention on specific enemies, thus making it easier to land blows. It is then up to the player to execute precision attacks. Unfortunately the system becomes taxed when there are more than a couple of onscreen enemies. This is not from a technical standpoint, as the framerate and controls largely remain solid, but a mechanical one. When Link is surrounded and the action becomes chaotic, the game doesn’t always target the enemy you want it to. Additionally, landing precision slashes against enemies who love to block is tricky when being attacked from all sides This isn’t a problem unique to Skyward Sword, as it is a complaint I would level at all previous 3D Zelda titles, but here it is more pronounced given the unique combat. Thankfully this is not a common occurrence, and there are a couple of crowd control techniques. The spin dash will be familiar to anyone who has played other Zelda games and is executed by quickly shifting the Wii Remote and Nunchuck outwards.

Although parry attacks have been utilised in previous Zelda games, from the automatic parry in The Wind Waker to the optional “Shield bash” skill in Twilight Princess, never before has it felt so integral or crucial to combat success. From the outset Link is able to fully parry attacks by countering with his shield, which both protects him and temporarily stuns enemies, opening them up to counterattack. The parry is entirely dependent on careful timing and player skill, and is often essential to successfully defeat an enemy given their aggression and tendency to block Link’s own attacks. Parries are performed by sharply thrusting the nunchuck forward, making a satisfying “ping” sound each time an attack is deflected. It is not just direct hits that can be stopped in their tracks: projectiles such as those spat by Octoroks can be repelled by sword and shield alike . Shields have a durability meter - a series first, for better or worse, again replicated in Breath of the Wild - and thus can only take a set number of direct hits before breaking. However, successful parries will negate any damage and therefore prevent a shield from breaking. To partially mitigate frustration from shield damage there is a potion that restores their durability, and they can also be repaired and upgraded at the tool shop in Skyloft’s Bazaar. These can only be done before a shield breaks; once this happens they’re gone for good. Additionally this second method requires that the player venture all the way back to Skyloft, which can seriously break gameplay flow. Thankfully the third shield available to Link – the creatively named Magic Shield – restores itself over time, although this comes at the cost of lower durability. Then there’s the series staple Hylian Shield, which doesn’t break at all, although it is only accessible via a late-game boss rush side-quest that many players are likely to miss.

While some players over the years have argued that Zelda has always existed on the periphery of being an Action RPG - something I strongly disagree with - Skyward Sword perhaps demonstrates a more deliberate attempt to incorporate RPG elements and edge the series closer to the genre. There’s been a degree of homogenisation within the industry for some time, with many games either merging genres or borrowing specific RPG systems to increase gameplay depth. It’s therefore unsurprising that Skyward Sword attempts this too. Monolith Soft, known for producing RPGs such as Xenosaga and Xenoblade, were employed as a support studio to assist Nintendo with these elements. Certain weapons and dungeon equipment can be upgraded using materials gathered from enemies and the environment. These range from macabre-sounding monster body parts to tumbleweed and precious stones. Special items that augment Link’s stats, such as medals that increase the number of hearts or the rate of certain item drops, can also be separately equipped in his new expandable item bag, giving players a small degree of customisation. Although side quests and activities have, to varying degrees, long been a part of Zelda, here their utility is expanded slightly, rewarding Link with “gratitude crystals”. These can be traded with a friendly monster living beneath Skyloft for rupees, bigger wallets and heart pieces, adding depth to Skyloft and the relationships Link has with his neighbours. By dipping its toes in these waters, Skyward Sword almost feels like a testing ground for ideas further expanded in Breath of the Wild.

Skyward Sword is a game that both leans on the series’ past while attempting to push it forward in interesting and unexpected ways. A surprise evolution of certain presentational aspects and a marvellous score ensure that it is at the very least an aesthetic joy, while accomplished and confident dungeons are the gameplay highlight, buoyed by a new approach to overworld design. However, the motion controls arguably render it a curious experiment, informed by and perhaps bound to its time and console. As the pinnacle of the Wii project it will be interesting to see how this experiment translates to the Switch in its upcoming remaster. How well the original motion controls fare with the Switch’s more accurate gyroscope and accelerometer? And can a game predicated on Wii waggle successfully translate to a traditional control scheme? The answers to these could both be game changers and allow Skyward Sword to finally realise its full potential. In the meantime, while not every step may be considered a success, its legacy undoubtedly lives on through the gameplay and presentational innovations that have come to comprise part of the body of new Zelda formula. Quirky and creative, yet at times repetitive and frustrating, it could hardly be named a classic example of the franchise, but it is an important one.