When I was first approached by Dan Pearce to check out his new game, Castles in the Sky, I was hesitant to play it. I had far too many games on my plate and the thought of adding one more game to the list gave me the thought that it would just fall by the wayside. I told Dan so. I told him that I wasn’t sure if I would be able to write about his game and give it the time it deserved. “I’m totally booked,” I said, while thinking about lazily spending more time with Diablo 3—a game I’d played for several hundred hours and then some.
But he persisted, and said he’d send the game to me anyway because he’d be more than happy for me just to have it to play. He asked nicely, so how could I say no to that?
It’s been five days since he sent me the game, and I only played it today. I sent him an e-mail last night telling him I’d do just that. What I experienced with the game was astonishing—with my feelings perhaps amplified by my initial reticence to play it. I felt guilty for pushing the game aside for other things of equal or lesser importance. In truth, there were no more important games for me to play, or more important things for me to do. I didn’t want to have to add yet another thing to my list of things to do.
But I’m glad I played it.
Not having parsed the backstory (if there is one) before jumping straight into the game, I was greeted by a young boy—which I presumed to be the playable character—floating through the air on a red balloon. After rising in altitude for some distance, he lands upon a cloud and I am given agency over the boy. I tried to control him with my gamepad, to no avail. The keyboard didn’t work, either. Here was a game that played solely through the mouse, with clicks equating to jumps.
As is my habit to do so, I read aloud the text that appeared into view as I ascended as the boy into the heavens. The words were poetic, and though I was never one for poetry, I enjoyed what it had to say.
Castles in the Sky is like a story book, or a lullaby told through text and simple platforming. I have never played anything else like it.
Simplicity isn’t something to look down on. Though very simple, the game moved me to thoughts about what games can accomplish beyond what we the public, and the media usually presents video games as. Games have in their capability to be more than just man-shooters and action games and testosterone-laden experiences. They can also be storybooks—small, 15 minute experiences more emotionally moving, even in their simplicity, than hundred-hour blockbusters.
The guilt I felt of having initially pushed Castles in the Sky away, in addition to experiencing the game itself, was enough to make me change my mindset and to give these smaller, more intimate experiences much more of my time and attention. And I’m thankful for that.
