EUREKA!
Authorship is a loaded subject. If one is to view a game developer as a sort of 'god' who forges landscapes from their worldly vision and linear pathways to guide stories, then Iconoclasts serves a grand dissection of the blurred line separating myth from reality. Faith and science collide in a bout of political urgency. Turmoil becomes allegorical, until its gargantuan, sublime image proves a reckoning of purpose.
Personal strife corresponds with mechanical restoration; a wrench becomes a weapon for the good of mankind. Destruction is inherently a constructive act, and tools are used to turn objects and apparatuses into new, advanced, manmade inventions. Revolution and defiance provide the cornerstones of progressive civilization, and faith unites people through collective understanding. A singular purpose.
"Perhaps we create our own purpose." As the player guides the heroine through her linear venture towards answers, faith is inherently placed in the game's maker to provide those answers sought, as well as reward for their trials, and entertainment overall. "You've come a long way, child. You followed your linear path and it led you here." Is fate ordained by the gods? Or perhaps by a presumed generational destiny subsequently written and passed down by each new limb of a family tree?
Chrome is a wicked soldier, and a fascinating villain, determined to forge unity even through the most didactic and fascist of methods. As a leader, he quietly rejects insubordination, all while understanding compliance as a natural human trait when faced with great existential ordeals.
"They see something above them and reach for it. If they catch it, they look up once more." A supposed terror pervades all throughout Joakim Sandberg's game, that one's ordained beliefs very likely may not turn out to be true. But this fear is only spread to those who refute dissimilar viewpoints, and use oppressive tactics to silence opposition.
The earthen powers Robin faces against are mortal threats equally tactical and imposing as her own capabilities allow for herself. Indeed, few Metroidvania titles present such an impressively consistent array of enemies and boss fights to overcome; and each encounter carries with it an affirmative sense of redemptive conflict. For the sake of personal victory, and thus self-improvement.
Fixing problems in Iconoclasts dons a whole new meaning when interpreted through the lens of demolition; in other words, as the Oxford Dictionary defines "iconoclasm," "the action of attacking or assertively rejecting cherished beliefs and institutions or established values and practices." "Iconoclasm" may also be described as heretical, to suggest atheism or agnosticism, or traitorous reasoning, or simply disagreement. Disagreement is a fundamental motif driving the manic storytelling in Iconoclasts, which ultimately leads towards immolation on a widespread scale. Two robins meet, and clash in conflict, as He watches from above, another victim of martyrdom. Sunflowers always look towards the sun, and nature reclaims its beloved home. Through selfless aspiration, through communal understanding and growth, through fruitful destruction, an electrical current breathes progressive, technological Life back into the human endeavor, and sanctity is rekindled. A sacrifice, an embrace, and finally acceptance.
The ironic 2D sidescrolling canvas offers a deliberately opaque sense of left or right, this or that, right or wrong; but the game's storytelling refutes simplistic morals which its contemporary ilk so often adopt. The silent protagonist trope is used here to effectively emphasize a notion of a predestined channel guiding us wordlessly, presuming a moral grey area by acknowledging the absence of choice in game design. Robin is a character, first and foremost -- unlike the ironic protagonist in Undertale -- but her viewpoint is appropriately dictated by the player's own responses.
Players save their game through prayer, illustrating videogames as a determinedly spiritual undertaking where established rules provide tools for liberating, escapist reward. Freedom through order; achievement through struggle. By subverting indie credibility through genuinely evocative design and calm, brazen philosophizing, Iconoclasts proves the storytelling relevance of its entire medium. A love letter to old-school game development becomes a righteous ode to human endurance and the pursuit of higher purpose. A beautiful, poignant, necessary venture for our godless times.
Authorship is a loaded subject. If one is to view a game developer as a sort of 'god' who forges landscapes from their worldly vision and linear pathways to guide stories, then Iconoclasts serves a grand dissection of the blurred line separating myth from reality. Faith and science collide in a bout of political urgency. Turmoil becomes allegorical, until its gargantuan, sublime image proves a reckoning of purpose.
Personal strife corresponds with mechanical restoration; a wrench becomes a weapon for the good of mankind. Destruction is inherently a constructive act, and tools are used to turn objects and apparatuses into new, advanced, manmade inventions. Revolution and defiance provide the cornerstones of progressive civilization, and faith unites people through collective understanding. A singular purpose.
"Perhaps we create our own purpose." As the player guides the heroine through her linear venture towards answers, faith is inherently placed in the game's maker to provide those answers sought, as well as reward for their trials, and entertainment overall. "You've come a long way, child. You followed your linear path and it led you here." Is fate ordained by the gods? Or perhaps by a presumed generational destiny subsequently written and passed down by each new limb of a family tree?
Chrome is a wicked soldier, and a fascinating villain, determined to forge unity even through the most didactic and fascist of methods. As a leader, he quietly rejects insubordination, all while understanding compliance as a natural human trait when faced with great existential ordeals.
"They see something above them and reach for it. If they catch it, they look up once more." A supposed terror pervades all throughout Joakim Sandberg's game, that one's ordained beliefs very likely may not turn out to be true. But this fear is only spread to those who refute dissimilar viewpoints, and use oppressive tactics to silence opposition.
The earthen powers Robin faces against are mortal threats equally tactical and imposing as her own capabilities allow for herself. Indeed, few Metroidvania titles present such an impressively consistent array of enemies and boss fights to overcome; and each encounter carries with it an affirmative sense of redemptive conflict. For the sake of personal victory, and thus self-improvement.
Fixing problems in Iconoclasts dons a whole new meaning when interpreted through the lens of demolition; in other words, as the Oxford Dictionary defines "iconoclasm," "the action of attacking or assertively rejecting cherished beliefs and institutions or established values and practices." "Iconoclasm" may also be described as heretical, to suggest atheism or agnosticism, or traitorous reasoning, or simply disagreement. Disagreement is a fundamental motif driving the manic storytelling in Iconoclasts, which ultimately leads towards immolation on a widespread scale. Two robins meet, and clash in conflict, as He watches from above, another victim of martyrdom. Sunflowers always look towards the sun, and nature reclaims its beloved home. Through selfless aspiration, through communal understanding and growth, through fruitful destruction, an electrical current breathes progressive, technological Life back into the human endeavor, and sanctity is rekindled. A sacrifice, an embrace, and finally acceptance.
The ironic 2D sidescrolling canvas offers a deliberately opaque sense of left or right, this or that, right or wrong; but the game's storytelling refutes simplistic morals which its contemporary ilk so often adopt. The silent protagonist trope is used here to effectively emphasize a notion of a predestined channel guiding us wordlessly, presuming a moral grey area by acknowledging the absence of choice in game design. Robin is a character, first and foremost -- unlike the ironic protagonist in Undertale -- but her viewpoint is appropriately dictated by the player's own responses.
Players save their game through prayer, illustrating videogames as a determinedly spiritual undertaking where established rules provide tools for liberating, escapist reward. Freedom through order; achievement through struggle. By subverting indie credibility through genuinely evocative design and calm, brazen philosophizing, Iconoclasts proves the storytelling relevance of its entire medium. A love letter to old-school game development becomes a righteous ode to human endurance and the pursuit of higher purpose. A beautiful, poignant, necessary venture for our godless times.