What begins as an addictive deckbuilder with roguelike elements and mysterious puzzles around the margins slowly becomes a transformative postmodern commentary on gaming media, the search for meaning in art, and the relationship between players and the ruthless economy of video game conglomerates - all of this while never losing that satisfying gameplay loop and finding ways to iterate on it and keep things fresh. The enrapturing atmosphere of the game's first act is admittedly missed once its first big twist is revealed, but the way the narrative evolves around the gameplay as the player progresses does a good job of keeping things balanced and intriguing.

I knew this was a classic, going in, but what I hadn't anticipated was just how elemental and minimalistic it would be. It was a pleasant surprise and welcome subversion to discover a game that I had known only to be an innovative open world adventure was in fact set in a barren desert, melancholic from its opening cinematic, and centred around a gameplay loop so simplistic that the weight of its repetitions acquire a purposefully suffocating heft, even as the colossi designs and environmental attention required to topple them remain for the most part fresh throughout the experience.

Shadow of the Colossus is a deeply lonely game. Though accompanied by a reliable steed, the experience of wandering through this world only to devastate it makes you feel more and more like a harbinger of death itself, barely receptive to the emotions and realities of the creatures you kill, just charging forward as a naive emissary, directed by a force you never dare to question.

The gameplay itself is slightly clunky; handling your horse takes some time to master, clambering up surfaces can occasionally feel glitchy if you are being thrown around, and there is a sense that the environment itself has a general antipathy towards you - some surfaces that look like they should be climbable simply aren't, and there is no fast-travel system. All of these may read as flaws but it is to the game's credit that its atmosphere, narrative, and general emotional tone render them as assets rather than liabilities. These things should not be easy. There should be no shortcuts. The world should resist you, because there is still life in it, and you are, ultimately, a threat.

This does mean that sometimes the colossi can feel a little tedious. It is, if not a necessary cost, then perhaps an understandable one, as a product of the game's philosophy. Sometimes you have to wait, sometimes the puzzles can be obtuse, and sometimes you will just feel stupid. Sometimes a jump will feel needlessly finnicky, or a gimmick poorly communicated. But only rarely did that actually take me out of the experience, and ultimately those instances were forgivable for the grandeur and scale on which the game operates, the smallness that you feel, the conflict at the heart of your purpose.

"Shadow of the Colossus is one of the great game experiences everyone should have" is the wisdom I've seen frequently extolled, and for all of my assumptions that this would reflect on innovative gameplay, world building, and narrative impact, ultimately the greatest asset of my experience was the isolation at the core of its protagonist, Wander's, world. For as noble and altruistic his motivations - the desire to save an anonymous companion - the world is resistant, and antagonistic, and content without you. And it is only in accepting that, in embracing that, that you can fully commune with it, and what seems like a chaos coalesces into a harmony. The light that draws you to a single point is not a target, it's a call. It's too late for Wander, but it's not too late for us.

Somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

If I were to describe Hollow Knight in one word, it would be ambition. From the roots of its development to its release and eventually culminating into Silksong, Hollow Knight is an ambitious labor of love that can be felt in every detail of the game.

The map of Hallownest is gigantic, but designed intelligently. Each room feels distinct enough, whether because of the room’s contents or being visually distinctive, where navigation feels natural and intuitive. Each area feels balanced with map layouts that rarely feel empty or lackluster, and there’s almost always something to be found in each direction you can take. Secrets can be found everywhere in the map, and while the rewards for your search can be anticlimactic at times, there’s an added intrigue to your adventure as you might stumble into a hidden area. Hollow Knight’s ability to have a massive map that feels extremely well-planned out, filled with secrets, and consistently manages to keep each room visually distinct is extremely impressive.

Combat is simple yet satisfying, with fights rarely feeling luck-based. The Knight’s toolkit is small (your nail (+ nail arts), spells, healing, and movement tools), which makes it easy to pick up the basics of combat mechanics. However, mastering Hollow Knight’s mechanics requires a lot of skill and game knowledge, leading to boss victories feeling triumphant and satisfying. Hell, many fights feel similar to a dance as you learn how to dodge attacks, further aiding in the fantastic feel of combat. The game’s charm system allows for customizability in how you play, with some charms even being designed to synergize with each other and give added benefits (such as defender’s crest and spore shroom improving the damage of spore shroom’s damage cloud). There’s not one strict way to play Hollow Knight, and that’s a fantastic quality to have.

Hollow Knight’s combat system shines the most when up against the game’s bosses. And there’s a lot, 39 to be specific. Most bosses have interesting mechanics that make them fun to fight, and the majority of the bosses that don’t are designed for the beginning of the game and are purposefully simplistic. And while bosses are difficult, they never feel insurmountable and it always feels like you have the tools to succeed. Being able to have so many bosses and have the majority be fun, challenging, and well-designed is a major fear.

Artistically, Hollow Knight is stunning. Hallownest is incredibly atmospheric, with a world that feels alive and inhabited while also selling the feeling of being a ruined kingdom. The use of color further accentuates the world’s setting, with most of Hallownest being cool colors (primarily blue, but featuring a lot of greens, purples, greys, and earthy yellow), with the Infection contrasting the natural Hallownest by being jarringly orange. The use of color allows for the Infection to pop as something foreign, dangerous, and hostile. Hollow Knight’s soundtrack is iconic, with exciting boss music and soothing overworld themes. The game’s music subtly assists in making the world much better to explore and boss fights more engaging to fight.

And on top of all of that, Hollow Knight is $15 USD with 4 free DLC. Hollow Knight goes above and beyond, especially with its price tag and small development team. And it takes genuine passion to make a game as thoroughly designed as Hollow Knight is.

There’s a lot to say and love with Hollow Knight, a lot more than I can say here. Hollow Knight has had a major impact in the gaming sphere, both for players and for game developers. And for good reason, because Hollow Knight manages to nail so many of its mechanics and design choices and offers players so many directions and places to explore and interact with.

Hollow Knight is my favorite game of all time. And it has truly earned that title. It is a phenomenal game in so many ways