Imagine you're bored, waiting in line waiting for your number to be called so you can do your boring adult things and your phone's battery just died. You get a ticket with the ID of your procedure and some random number, you see the screen to check how many others are in line and now you're waiting, unable to do anything besides waiting. You observe the place, the people, read whatever text there is to read until there's nothing left to do. Naturally, you start to think. You begin picturing a specific scenario, while bouncing your leg or struggling to find a comfortable arm position, checking the screen with the numbers in line every now and then. Bored, you start thinking about a cool fictional scenario/story in your head. You think about some calm parts, you think about what could happen next, and then the consequences and the climax; That's pretty much what Gravity Bone feels like.
You could argue I just explained the process of how every story is made, but Gravity Bone just feels different. It starts very suddenly and out of nowhere, puts you right into the scenario and have you go through it, flowing with the wind.

It lets you know what you have to do and the objective, puts a few twists here and there, and the same way it starts it ends. Sudden. Interrupted. Unannounced. Almost as if you snapped out of it, as if they called your ticket ID.

Despite some iffy gameplay prior to the climax, Gravity Bone is a captivating venture into filmic possibilities for ludic experiences, where the cut can be a means of editing perspectives yet unseen (and now rarely seen) in the medium. The various film references here for the two contracts are cute while the game itself propels past pastiche toward a significant short fiction whose abstraction details lives and stories worth subjective introspection. Brendon Chung's advancements from this in Thirty Flights of Loving and Quadrilateral Cowboy do not undermine the still existing value of Gravity Bone.