sands through the hourglass, so are the minutes of our Journey...
You, a stretchy, pointy Jawa creature, awake in a desert. In the
distant distance looms a mountainy mountain. With no other
geographical markers, you may as well trundle towards it, yeah?
Sound vague? Well, that’s because Journey offers players
about as much direction as a smasheroonied compass. Yet there’s a
design cleverness that allows whoever’s clutching the DualShock to
quickly synch to its vibe, somehow knowing what to do – or, more to
the point, where to go. Through wastelands, ancient ruins, howling
winds, gritty ski-slopes...
There are scant controlleristic options. Traipse in various
directions, turn using motion sensing or right stick, fly once
accumulating scarf segments (your neck adornment grows longer the
more you nab) and emit cryptic QR code-like bleats that double as
mega-jump and landscapular triggers here and there.
Assuming you’re internet enabled, as you journey upon your journey
in Journey you’ll encounter similarly pointy Jawalikes. Not
console-generated companions as you may assume, they’re actually
other hapless souls out there somewhere in PSNland. You can buddy-up
for a shared journey, or plough on regardless. We churned through
seven peeps on our first playthrough. Flibbertigibbets? Us?!
As you schlep onwards, you encounter pallid scalped skittle god
thingies, and just as you’re thinking it’s a bit cruisetastic
something nasty might frighten the living fuck out of you.
Not that this happened to us, oh no – WAAAAAAURRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHH!
Despite occasional startlements, overall Journey offers more
serenity than Bonnie Doon. If you whine about paying a movie ticket
price for entertainment of the same length that you can play again
and again and again then we’d like to pat your head condescendingly.
Now on PS4,
Journey remains a fine argument for games as art if you can be
arsed going there. We just enjoyed re-experiencing something different
that overtook us for two hours.