I’ve been trying to figure out why video games consistently fail at adapting mental illness, at least the ones that I’ve played. We all agree (or at least, most sane people agree) that games are a form of high art capable of tackling mature themes, and indeed the plethora of judicious titles out there more than prove that point. But when it comes to psychological ailments, they stumble and trip: at best you’re hit with overly-sentimental fluff, at worst you get something downright idiotic. It can’t be because the creators themselves don’t know what they’re talking about, as many of them have been open about their own struggles, so what is it?

I think it has to do with a number of dilemmas, the most obvious being the lack of a one-size-fits-all banner; even something as seemingly generic as depression can vary DRASTICALLY from person-to-person in terms of causes, manifestations, triggers, diagnoses, etc….The second is the gameplay question, or how you have the player engage with this metaphysical problem in a manner that isn’t pretentious or offensive. As just stated, it’s hard enough to characterize clinical disorders in a way that makes them tangentially relatable to multiple individuals, but even if you find that magic formula, the task of further turning that into a fun interactable medium is a whole other can of worms. If gamers aren’t entertained, it won’t matter how deep your storytelling is; and if your narrative is surface-level worthy, it won’t matter how intricate the gameplay is.

Third, and arguably most important, is the portrayal: how exactly do you show someone struggling with what is effectively cognitive cancer? Well, the answer tends to be anthropomorphizing the negative thoughts into an actual persona as that allows creators to visualize the constant negative voice many dysthymic individuals have in their heads, and that approach is what was taken by Matt Makes Games (since renamed Maddy Makes Games) for their secondary outing Celeste. A member of the difficult platformer genre, Celeste focuses on a young woman attempting to climb the titular mountain for reasons she herself is not sure of. The only issue is she’s being hampered by several obstacles generated by the Alp, the worst a malevolent doppelganger who seems eternally pessimistic. As you can probably guess, both these facets are metaphorical in scope: the mountain is the protagonist’s (Madeline’s+) mental hurdles, the dark mirror (Badeline) a compilation of her complexes, and a quick look over this schema reveals the first qualm with it: it’s ridiculously tame. While tis true that depression kills motivation, that is hardly its worst aspect- ruined relationships, serious health problems, and utter misery are just some of the anguishes you can get from chronic melancholy, yet in Celeste, Madeline’s odyssey is akin to one of those sports movies wherein the hero only has to look within themself to triumph against a stronger adversary. It’s very cookie-cutter and does an injustice to its real-life counterpart: the conversations between the twins simmer down to a toxic sibling relationship in place of the jackhammer that is feelings of inferiority. I’m honestly not surprised to learn the game got an E10 rating considering none of the dialogue approaches the kind of in-depth storytelling a topic such as mental illness necessitated. Worse still are the moments of levity wherein Madeline will either engage in playful banter with her clone (you know, the entity meant to represent her debilitating anxiety), or converse with a fellow backpacker named Theo (who’s whole characterization is taking selfies because MILLENNIALS!).

Now I know there will be counterarguments saying I was reading too much into the premise and that it was never meant to be that introspective, and maybe this is true (I only skimmed over the Wikipedia page after all), but even on the lower tiers of self-improvement I don’t think the game succeeded. It rehashes the same cliche advice you’ve been given a thousand times over since childhood: embrace your fears; don’t be scared to show emotion; if at first you don’t succeed, try try again. Don’t get me wrong, such wisdom is well-intentioned, it’s just utterly banal at this point in time. Kids, teens, and adults all know the right steps forward; if things were that easy to follow, everyone would be constantly optimistic. It unfortunately doesn’t fly in this day-and-age where advances in neurochemistry disclose complications in the central processing organ that originates these thoughts, and to act like clinical disorders can be powered through via sheer willpower is quite silly.

I also had an issue with the bluffs themselves. If they’re meant to be an allegory, how exactly are the other inhabitants there? Madeline arrives the same way we all do in a dream, seemingly manifesting without a beginning, yet Theo and co. claim to have either come from elsewhere or been long-term residents. They’re evidently not figments of the heroine’s imagination, so what is this reality we’re in? How does Madeline seem to conveniently stumble upon them when she’s consistently ascending? I know it appears dumb to harp on what is effectively a framing device, but when you’re imbibing a fantasy atmosphere you have to make your rules clear, otherwise the world gets less investable. And you guys need to understand these conversations Madeline has with those characters, while occasionally optional, are where the bulk of the themes lie, meaning they needed all the help they could get from the surrounding ambience, especially when you consider the game lacks voice acting. Yes, that’s right, Celeste is another pure-text scrawl, and while I did have problems with the script, there’s no denying a talented performer could’ve imbued the lines with vigorous pathos. Alas, that wasn’t to be, and worse yet, what you get in-place are an atrocious series of dins meant to mimic varying emotes. Do you guys remember how, in the Charlie Brown cartoons, Vince Guaraldi would render adult vocals with a muted trombone? Yeah, imagine that cranked up to cacophonous levels and you get the babbling in Celeste. It’s absolutely annoying.

Thankfully, the rest of the SFX is more up-to-par. As a platformer, you’re going to do your typical activities of jumping, rebounding, token collecting, door unlocking, etc…and all have that crisp arcade-y din that never gets old to hear. You even have some nice subtle additions, like echoes in caves, muffled tones while submerged, and differentiated thudding based on surface material.

The score is mostly fantastic as well, with composer Lena Raine adjusting her music to fit not only the level layout, but the required scenic tone (being chased, resolving a dilemma, exploring, and so forth). You’re going to be spending a lot of time redoing areas, and it significantly helps one’s patience to not have aggravating tunes looping ad nauseam. That said, I did use the term “mostly” because there were a couple of compositions (particularly early on) that leaned too heavily into that outdated, screechy noise you always heard in 8-bit video games, which doesn’t work despite Celeste visually resembling one of those titles.

Yeah, all cards on the table, I wasn’t a big fan of the graphics. There were a lot of nice touches that certainly raise Celeste above vanilla releases from the third generation, such as the frenzied motion of background objects, presence of floating motes, scuff clouds from Madeline’s feet, sweat beads, colored torch lighting, and the mobility of hair. But the baseline aesthetic just looks a bit antiquated in a non-homage kind of way, with extra facets coming across as two steps backwards, like the complete absence of faces, prevalence of pudgy hands, and the fact that the backdrops of every stage look like a library of retinted assets from RPG Maker. Seriously, I was genuinely surprised to learn this game was built in XNA given how rehashed the aesthetics are, and I’m not referring to things like terrain blocks (that were of course going to be replicated) but the numerous furnishings. You’re going to see the same exact bookcases, crystals, vines, statues, flags, and so forth from place-to-place, and no matter the flair the developers slap on the whole enterprise, it can’t help but remove some of the uniqueness from the world. Combine this with the fact that you’re going to be in these vistas for elongated periods of time courtesy of the resurrections, and you can see how such aesthetics get tiring.

On the topic of resurrections, let’s talk about the gameplay, which is of course the main appeal of any platformer. Like I said before, Celeste is a difficult platformer, and while it isn’t in the same ballpark as say They Bleed Pixels, it is still a title that lives and dies by, well, living and dying. Levels are built around strategically leaping and boosting about pillars courtesy of a speed burst, with later parts adding new gimmicks like momentum bubbles, wind gliding, and discount Thwomps, and the only method of overcoming everything is through the tried and true trial-and-error tactic of perishing and rejuvenating. This is a game that really wanted to embody overcoming stress in all aspects of its being, and the craftsmanship is superb. Save points click upon entering a new frame, and combined with the quick reload times, you can expect your death toll to easily rise into the 100s without notice (which the game gleefully tells you at the end).

The biggest issues I had with Celeste were two-fold: first, its platforming is only cued to the eight cardinal directions of N, S, E, W + diagonals. That’s fine and dandy, but the problem is, if you’re playing with a controller (like I was) the game often doesn’t register which angle you’re aiming at unless you push the joystick extensively that way, which you can’t really be thinking about as you go through the motions. The 360 degree nature of a joystick means there is a lot of room for error, and I feel the developers should’ve accounted for that when implementing gamepad support.

The second is the open-ended nature of certain sections, where you aren’t given a clear pathway forward. This obviously works for players who wish to indulge in the game’s side content of strawberry collecting (more on that below), but those wanting to simply push onwards to the finish line may get stuck wasting time on tasks they did not actually need to do.

There is plenty of content at your fingertips: strawberries, as said above, are often located in specific crevices that require even more precise maneuvering to acquire; an actual 8-bit version of the game (created for PICO-8) is playable to complete (though keep in mind it doesn’t save your progress as I learned the hard way). Alongside that, every stage has a findable “B-side” that allows you to play through an alternate, harder version of it, and if that wasn’t enough, select chapters have special objects that, when acquired, unlock an eighth area set after the events of the main game (much like the Krem Koins in DKC2). I personally didn’t indulge much in either, however, fans will no doubt cherish the bonuses.

In the end, Celeste faltered because it wastes a lot of time on a narrative that, in my opinion, failed to live up to its potential. Combine that with overly-simple visuals and standard platforming fare and you get an okay game that’ll no doubt appeal to a certain sect of the gaming populace.

Notes
+Madeline can be renamed, however, as she is definitively not an avatar, the option is ultimately pointless on the part of the devs.

++Much has been made about Madeline being transgender, and while I’ve always been an advocate for more representation, I felt this didn't add anything to the game as her gender identity is barely hinted at. It’s a lot like when Simon Pegg and co. retroactively made Sulu gay in Star Trek Beyond, though even there they at least threw in one scene indicating as such. That said, numerous commentators have indicated that the free DLC (the unlockable secret world) is more explicit with Madeline's transidentity, and as a cisgender man, I know I have unintentional biases and will never be intrinsically knowledgeable of a transperson's experiences. So take it all with a grain of salt.

+++Wasn’t able to fit this into the main review, but gotta be honest- I did not like any of the side characters. Theo is barely tolerable, Mr. Oshiro pathetic, and the old lady strangleable.