Around the middle portion, Celeste take time to render anxiety with uncomfortably raw characterization, throwing every twee narrative game trick to enhance the beat: a gamified breathing mini-game, angry dialogue letters, boundary-breaking character portraits, and a soundtrack by someone who clearly understands the headspace. That this presentation is both unbearably corny and nonetheless effective about sums up my thoughts.
But in 2018 I was frustrated that it could both do this and then turn around and deliver a brutal final stretch of just being a videogame. Coming back to the game now, some months following my own anxiety diagnosis and the pits of my mental health, I find this all even more confusing.
It hits deeper now. Seeing someone whimper at their own brain and yet find peace in breathing brings me to tears. But its contentedness to be a platformer drains all the catharsis of the final sprint. The last chapter is as sharp and brittle as glass, genuinely torturous, even with assist mode. I feel utterly alienated at the end when they had me so close.
I guess in conclusion, Celeste just doesn't know when to quit. It feels made by real platformer-heads, the kind of gamers who would make the emotional resolution say "level up". They set the dial too high and then left it there, each stage ending with a few more agonizing screens than it needs; and while sometimes that energy is genuine and something to fuck with, it just flattens the piece. A puzzle game with a biological gate on it.
But in 2018 I was frustrated that it could both do this and then turn around and deliver a brutal final stretch of just being a videogame. Coming back to the game now, some months following my own anxiety diagnosis and the pits of my mental health, I find this all even more confusing.
It hits deeper now. Seeing someone whimper at their own brain and yet find peace in breathing brings me to tears. But its contentedness to be a platformer drains all the catharsis of the final sprint. The last chapter is as sharp and brittle as glass, genuinely torturous, even with assist mode. I feel utterly alienated at the end when they had me so close.
I guess in conclusion, Celeste just doesn't know when to quit. It feels made by real platformer-heads, the kind of gamers who would make the emotional resolution say "level up". They set the dial too high and then left it there, each stage ending with a few more agonizing screens than it needs; and while sometimes that energy is genuine and something to fuck with, it just flattens the piece. A puzzle game with a biological gate on it.