M
uch like the weird, irresistible
draw of Scandi interior design,
certain games just have a pull.
Sometimes all it takes to get me
invested is an axe, some runes, and a
mellifluous Northern European
accent regaling me with tales of gods
and giants and sacred wells. Jotun
provides all these things and more,
feeding me Norse myths while I
scamper about hacking roots and
thumping rocks. It’s not taxing stuff
- and the puzzles feel like they’re
dragging things out when I’d rather
be bothering monsters – but there’s a
pleasantness to Jotun that’s like the
perfect minimalist chair in the corner
of a neutral room. Simple but
clean, like hygge for your
eyes, fingers and thumbs.
JOTUN
68 00
T
here was a period during the
late ’90s when it was near-
impossible to buy a T-shirt that didn’t
have a bold Japanese design
emblazoned on the front. We rarely
knew what they said. And we never
looked as cool as we hoped. But
revisiting the gorgeous, sumi-e
artwork of Okami is a reminder of
why we got obsessed in the first
place. Much like this review, Okami
has a languid start, but it’s deeply
compelling once you get into it – the
sort of game where you’ll want to
paint over every maligned element
with your magic brush just to get that
sense of refreshing completion. And,
unlike a shirt from 1997,
Okami feels authentic, artistic
and pleasing to revisit.
OKAMI
82
T
he Telltale formula is so
established it’s almost a modern
fable itself, distilled and retold until
little remains in our collective
consciousness beyond the memes.
But it’s a system of interactive
storytelling that still works, especially
in a setting as compelling as
Fabletown. The QTE fights feel
slightly unsatisfying and some
choices lack meaning, but everything
else here has aged with dignity – the
art style, in particular, still
gels brilliantly with the
noir-ish comic book setting.
THE WOLF AMONG US
80
86
THEY’RE BACK
EXPECT TO PAY
£4
DEVELOPER
Moon Studios GmbH
PUBLISHER
Xbox Game Studios
NEED TO KNOW
I
t would be easy to be massively
cynical about Ori and the Blind
Forest, with its withered trees
and forest spirits and tragic
coming-of-age narrative. It’s
achingly sincere. And it wastes no
time before stamping on your
worthless human heart, crafting
vulnerable, loving protagonists who
are immediately ripped apart. But
raising even a slightly questioning
eyebrow at such a wholesome game
feels wrong, like armpit-farting
cover versions of Enya songs. Ori
deserves better.
We probably don’t need to talk about
how beautiful it all is, although it’s
worth pointing out that screenshots
barely do it justice. There’s a glowing,
heartfelt warmth to it all that’s like
ASMR for the eyes. The arresting
presentation is deceptive, too – it
looks and sounds like the sort of
game where you hold right and a
cosy story engulfs you. But Ori and
the Blind Forest can be a spiteful,
flinty game at times, with collectibles
hanging near horribly-placed spikes
and sections that require some trial
and error to pass. It can also be a
tricky game to get to grips with: the
early sections present you with an
array of dials, wheels, and abilities
that could be drip-fed more elegantly.
The openness of it can be
intimidating. As a Metroidvania it’s
entirely possible to traipse off in
entirely the wrong direction before
realising you haven’t got the abilities
you need to progress. Thematically,
that openness feels right, hammering
home the idea that you’re lost in an
uncharted fantasy landscape. And
once Ori’s arcane systems
and open world begin to
make sense, the result is
really sublime.
TREESY LOVER
Heart-crushing sincerity in ORI AND THE BLIND FOREST
BELOW: (^) Turn the game off here and the sadness can’t hurt you.
They’ll hurt my family
if I make a smokey
bacon joke.