It’s been a while since I’ve done this, because my day-to-day writings on the big picture aspects of gaming don’t allow for it. But Windosill, Vectorpark’s dreamy indie Flash puzzler, begs for it.
If you haven’t, try the free version, then splurge on the $3 full edition, if only because its a cause worth supporting. Here’s your SPOILER warning, because I’m going to talk about the game in its entirety.
When I first reached the climax of the adventure, I mistakenly took it for the ending. Having successfully navigated every level — pulling, shaking and clicking on abstract creatures and fluid objects to coax out a small white cube, which acts as a key of sorts — the rolling cart that I’d pushed through each environment begins its journey up a spiraling coliseum. Eventually, the track runs out, and the cart stalls at the end of the path, yearning to drive further towards the night sky.
I took this to be a statement. Frustrated relationship, perhaps? Minutes ago, I was opening doors and enabling elaborate Rube Goldberg devices. Before that, I was manipulating the orbit of planets, and earlier still, fooling giant creatures into letting my cart pass by. Now, the path ends, and there are no more objects to manipulate. I tried to do handstands for you, so to speak, for nothing.
But that was incorrect. Faintly, a cluster of stars brighten in the sky. Click them, and the path extends on traces of white. Keep going, and the cart disappears into the background. A minute later, after clicking on a series of beautiful constellations, the cart reappears, but not as it was. Like the other shapes in the sky, this once grounded cart rolls freely in place, memorialized.
Ah yes, it’s the human life cycle. Let’s backtrack.
Windosill begins in a dark room, a faintly lit bulb the only hint of progress. Click on it, and the room lights up, revealing all the game’s major players. The cart is there, and so is the cube that’s needed to pass through to the next area. Objects of varying shapes and sizes also appear in this room, but in separate compartments. The player’s cart can’t interact with them because they’re walled off.
This changes over the course of the game. The objects witnessed in that first room reappear, but they also evolve. Their appearances change, but so do their interactions with the player. The goal of passing a cube through a slot in a door becomes more complicated, and requires the interactions of these supporting characters.
In other words, you’re growing up, and the world as you see it is not as simple as it once was.
The conclusion, of course, is death. The cart disappears into the unknown, but there’s an upshot: In the sky, you can still catch a glimpse of it. Memory lives on. The End.
To be frank, I liked the first reading better, and I wouldn’t have minded if Windosill ended in that perpetual state of trying to climb higher. But the opportunity for reflection is welcome. $3 well spent.
Theory, Indies | No Comments »
