2012 Game of the Year

I don’t like finals. You’d think after everything you learned over some four months, would all culminate to this college moment. Hours of cramming late nights in the library and it’d all come together to create something worthwhile in the end, and suddenly you realize, “Wow, none of this actually matters to me…” Or, at least that’s what happened with my film final that one Friday morning. That film class, of all the irony that semester, was a disaster. Our professor didn’t teach us anything in the art of filmmaking, only the technicalities; though this is an Intro class, you’d think there’d be more weight or grandeur into the art of filmmaking. Needless to say, my final for this dreadful class didn’t end well. I felt awful yet careless afterwards, so I took the three-minute walk towards the JSAC building after it was over. I took in the fresh oxygen under such a blue sky; the trees were blossoming green; the grasses, however real or fake they were, the lime of fruits; spring truly settled in that morning, and somehow I missed it.

Reaching the JSAC, it was understandably empty, all except for one dark little room. A group of students, whom I recognized from the Gamers Club, had their consoles and setups around one of the campus TVs. While I normally didn’t communicate with this group, I was curious as to what they were playing. Normally I pass this group by in the middle of a Mortal Kombat match or split-screen FPSs, that I rarely ever stop and look. But this time, I stopped and looked. See, they weren’t doing some side-scroller or shooter that I’d normally associated them with. What I saw through the reflection of the window wasn’t anything like that. This was more colorful, vibrant, eclectic… yet more simple, mysterious and oblique. They were playing this game I recognized as Journey on their PS3.

It was an awkward introduction between myself and the club; though we love our games, my quiet and questioning demeanor doesn’t really blend with the anime collections and Magic decks I associate this group with. Somehow, though, our differences didn’t matter at the moment. We didn’t watch this game as gamers or students, but as spectators in the moment. Our eyes were glued to the colorful vistas of the environments, the magical particle-effects of the sand on our feet, the mystery of our clothed character, and the echoes of cellos and flutes that made a soundtrack…

Developed by indie-famed Thatgamecompany, Journey exemplifies how it’s not the destination but the journey, not just in its namesake but in its game code. Your only objective is to head towards a mountain, your destination. It takes roughly two hours to reach the mountain, but in those two hours your gaming space will have been changed.

The only gameplay in Journey comes from a scarlet scarf you wear along your trip. As you trek towards the mountain, you’ll come across glowing glyphs that add length to your scarf, and the longer the scarf, the longer you can activate its strange abilities to levitate into the air to activate other clothes or puzzles. Its use isn’t challenging, but it reminds you that this is a painting for you to interact with.

And you won’t be going about this journey alone. Along your journey you’ll come across a second character online. This isn’t an AI, this is a real-life PSN user on the other side of the bandwidth. What’s unique, and what keeps this game as pure as possible, is that there’s no identity or technical communication. With no PSN ID or mic/chat settings, this second player is just as mysterious and curious as you are. Your only means of “communicating” are with little chirps from the ‘O’ button. Cooperation isn’t necessary to complete sections of the game, but it can add layers of excitement to the game, especially as you and your fellow stranger get closer to completing this adventure you’re both sharing.

And then there’s the third character to the experience: the accompanying music. I was shocked by how young composer Austin Wintory was during the making of this game. While his birthdate isn’t clear to me, I can only imagine Wintory must’ve had one heavenly childhood growing up, because what he’s made for this game is nothing short of heavenly. From the opening scene, a feeling of birth; sliding through sandhills, a feeling of joy and thrills; the final treks to the mountain, a feeling of fear and power; to the final moments of the game, a glimpse into something unholy and otherworldly. The soulful energy of this game concept simply couldn’t be as impactful if it weren’t for the powerhouse of strings and flutes. Like your online partner, the music follows with your footsteps as you careen through the sands and snows and sky, tensing as you tense, relaxing as you relax, and lifts you up as you ascend towards your final confrontation. It is bluntly one of the grandest orchestral scores ever made, and has to be heard by everybody, gamer or not. Period.

When these aspects are all combined, what ultimately makes this game is the journey itself. There is a story underneath your character as you walk towards the mountain, but attempting to describe it would be a complete disservice to anyone who’s about to attempt this journey. Again, this isn’t about the destination. While getting to the mountain is scripted, the experience getting there is not. Everyone’s journey won’t be the same; each will have their own interpretation of what they saw or felt as your harrowing trip nears its conclusion. This is a game of feeling and thought, driving you forward with unconventional spirituality and reflective naturalism. This isn’t about the story of Journey, this is about your story.

These are the kind of stories you wake up for, going so far into a goal but remembering what it takes to get to it. Remember the joys, the fears, the thrills, and the dangers it took to get where you always wanted to be. Remember to see the sites and meet the people and places along the way to get you where you want to be. That’s what this game was to me. Whoever I was playing in this game, this character is you and me: curious and afraid, but longing for that light at the end of the tunnel. In this case, that tunnel is the mountain. Unlike many games this year, this is a game that knows what it’s trying to do for you.

This isn’t just an outstanding game, this is a game-changer. It is a symbol, not only for this year, but for years to come, that video games can truly be what we want them to ultimately be, and that’s to NOT be a waste of time. It is the experience, something that our wallets can pay more than the usual $60; that our controllers can do more than point weapons or drive destruction, and that what we see doesn’t always have to be another shooter or WoW. In fact, this is the game that treats those other genres like a dime-a-dozen. Compared to those, Far Cry 3, Halo 4, and COD: Black Ops 2 are just another first-person shooter; Mass Effect 3, Assassin’s Creed III, and Borderlands 2 are just another action/adventure game, etc. Trust me, all mentioned have their merits for the year of 2012, but in the end, it’s something we’ve ultimately seen before.

Journey is something we’ve yet to grasp until now.

This is the game that we’ll show our families, our friends, and heck, even our Congressmen, that there’s more to this picture than just violence and terror.

This is the game we’ll tell stories of, whether we played it in one-sitting, or over and over just to remember the joys of sliding down the shimmering sanddunes, or the fears of those Collosi-like beasts haunting the skies and our dreams.

This is the game that has you playing the unknown, a creature with no human face, no religion, no politics or any worldly backgrounds, but all the worldly emotions we quietly share in our daily lives.

This is the game with the most quaint yet resilient multiplayer element, somehow matching you with a fellow online gamer as you two play through stages, as strangers but sharers of this experience.

This is the game serenaded with the most varied and haunting orchestral score of any entertainment blessed to be made for a video game, an unparalleled enigma of strings and flutes that correlates moment-to-moment into this whole-hearted experience of mystery but awe.

This is the game that stands in its own art museum, the game DaVinci or Michangello would’ve developed had they been here today with our powerful yet wasted tools.

And this is the game that not everyone will pick up and get, something that is understandably fine. Aforementioned, while it is unlike anything we’ve played before, it is unlike anything we’ve played before. There is an endgame, but there are no deaths or game-overs, no blood or injury, no guns or killstreaks, and no polygon-counts or customization. It doesn’t demand patience, but like the pre-labels before every screening at a movie theater, it gently asks you to tune out of that reality for abit and soak in this show. It asks you for an open-mind and an imagination, to ignore what is and play what could be; to see the sites, to hear the sounds, to feel the emotion, and to reflect on something after the two hours of gameplay is complete (it really is like a movie).

Literally, from top to bottom, from the moment you press Start to the last shot of the credits, this is the game of 2012. It isn’t your first-person shooter, your driving game, your MMO or RPG, and granted, it isn’t from AAA developers or multi-millionaire blockbuster sellers. Journey may not be the talk games like Mass Effect 3 was this year, but it is the little engine that, without question, will be the talk of thinkers, dreamers, artists, composers, and believers for years to come. It disregards the technicalities we all associate with video games, embraces the inner body of its computer code, showers its viewers with beauties the world over, and leaves an intensity in the air when your journey has ended. It compares to many games with its endgoal, but it is more than that. It is your journey, one unlike anything you’ll ever play.

It is Journey, my Game of the Year for 2012.

- Ant

RUNNER-UPS
Max Payne 3

Assassin’s Creed 3