Some games are like the Skinner boxes, distributing the rewards to pull the right levers. Others are like slot machines, serotonin receptors jingling with a random win. Some are like the playground dump ball or an after school fight club behind the McDonald’s dumpster. I’ve never played a game like the intro to a Parliament record: Partying on the Mothership / I’m the Mothership Connection / Descending in 3-D / Groovin ‘light year.
Funk is not a perfect comparison for The artistic escape, a game specifically about rock’n’roll and a young prodigy’s journey to guitar stardom. Corn The artistic escape is also a free matching game, so let’s go. The artistic escape it’s like riding a butterfly the size of an elephant into the setting sun. It’s like sliding down an endless tree branch in a magical forest. It’s like plugging into another dimension. You actually do all of these things in the game, but they’re all metaphors too, man.
In the vein of David Bowie and his cosmic alter ego Ziggy Stardust, The artistic escape follows the creation of the psychedelic stage character of the protagonist Francis Vendetti. Francis is a small town sci-fi geek whose uncle was a folk music legend. The day before his first show, a celebration of his uncle’s greatest hits, Francis meets a series of intergalactic beings who force him to face his own banality, but also his own lavishness. For the public, he is the ghost of a folk legend, but privately Francis rocks. As a maniacal laser light artist put it, “You dress like a wanderer, but you sound like an opera from space.” With increasing pressure from his small town neighbors to take his uncle’s coat, Francis escapes from his childhood bedroom into the night, where a brain-in-vat alien meets him outside his home for the ‘escort to the extraordinary cosmic, a dreamlike acidic journey towards “gray matter between the lobes of the universe”.
“To shred a sci-fi guitar odyssey, hold X,” the game says. Francis must shed his old self and generate a new storyline for his life, that of his hopping space opera stage character. dimension. Between skating on mountains of ice and bouncing on musical bubbles, Francis finds himself with various intergalactic celebrities, like the terrifying beast known as Glamourgonn, sometimes to save his life.
The artistic escape goes down easily. It’s four to five pure and joyful platform hours of light through vivid, kaleidoscopic landscapes full of alien beasts and greenery. Every second of the game is fun. Instead of a dry monologue, a secondary character’s backstory unfolds through an interactive digital museum through a path he once traveled; and instead of a basic platform, Francis can manifest light pillars and swarms of fireflies just by holding X and playing the guitar. (And this guitar always resonates with the dreamlike background music of each zone.) When Francis puts on a show, a music mechanic appears – more Simon says than Guitar Hero– which prompts the player to press buttons or triggers, at any beat or pace, according to a prompt. The point is to be expressive, not correct.