LIMBO

Playing LIMBO is simultaneously a nostalgic and an anticipatory experience. It's got the side-scrolly straight-forwardness of games like Super Mario Bros. or Donkey Kong Country, but with a refinement, gloss, and cleverness that clearly date it in this century.

Among these advancements it the continuous stream of the adventure. Assuming that you don't leave the game (which I didn't, for the whole 4 hour experience), there are no levels, chapter breaks, or save points. You just play. And, when you die, which you will, a lot, the game mercifully starts you off right before the danger that ended you. So, if you're anything like me, you can try again and again, convincing yourself that you have the right strategy but you're just not timing things right. With LIMBO, though, the answer is never actually all that tough. The puzzles are clever, and sometimes a little hidden, but they're always straightforward once you figure it out, although this straightforwardness may cause a redness on your forehead from all the facepalming you'll do from not figuring it out earlier.

The game is also quite lovely to look at. Because of this, it's prompting quite a few "video game as art" debates, none of which I will participate in here. I won't pretend to completely understand or use words like "minimalism" or "Chiaroscuro," but I know that the game looks, all the way through, except for some changes of scenery, like the above picture. This constant black-and-white, with little to no music creates a unique (to my knowledge) gaming experience that is memorable, addictive, and sometimes a little unsettling.

In short, I pretty much loved it, and as with most puzzle games, will never be able to enjoy it the same way again. But that's no reason why you shouldn't get it for youself. I can definitely think of worse ways to spend an afternoon.

Rating: 4.0 stars