Child of Eden
(30/06/2011)
I travel through a tunnel of digital light, distended pixels dilating in time to the thundering beat. My movements synchronise with the beat, firing with each pulse of bass, and the tunnel warps, becoming a spiral of shapes in electron orange. Beyond the reaches of this trans-spectral entity, I catch a glimpse of her...
I’m something of a sucker for the work of auteur. Show me something devised by the mind of a single individual, something wild and new and unexpected, and I’m often willing to overlook sometimes glaring faults in my appreciation of it. Child of Eden is the spiritual successor to Rez, the oft-revered 2001 music/game project by producer Tetsuya Mizuguchi. In fact, Eden is so similar to Rez in both structure and gameplay that it wouldn’t be a remote stretch to call it a true sequel.
I glide through primordial soup, the organisms around me spasm and change in time with the ripple of the tranquil waters. With my hand I bring life to life, call forth a shoal of electric-blue fishes from the midnight depths. The shimmering back of a whale rises beneath me, and my rhythmic energy caresses its shining skin. Together, we burst through the waves towards the stars above...
Child of Eden is as close to a straight work of art as a videogame is likely to get. I don’t mean this in the sense that videogames usually aspire to be art; Eden is an audiovisual experience first and a game second. Its beautiful visuals and pulsing soundtrack share equal importance; it’s mechanics lie in a distant second place. This is game to seen, heard, and felt first, and played second. Like Rez, the effect is often transporting, demanding a level of attention and absorption that most games can’t sustain. Unlike Rez, Eden is truly beautiful; no longer restricted by technology, Mizuguchi has painted a spectacular high-definition vision that is at times close to breathtaking.
I weave through the roots and branches of trees, tumbling through green portals in time with the petals falling around me. I can hear her, snatches of her song through the staccato drip of deadly droplets. I blast them away, and plunge deeper...
Child of Eden is an on-rails shooter. The mechanical descendant of games like Panzer Dragoon, it also borrows from the lighting-reflex world of the bullet-hell shooter. In later stages, it hurls great sweeping waves of projectiles at you, forcing you to react quickly to survive. Fail, and it has no problem dumping you right back at the start of a ten-minute level. This frustratingly old-school approach seems at times to be at odds with its transient, dreamy aesthetic, occasionally evoking fits of teeth-gnashing rage as a particular boss casually dismisses you, forcing you to repeat the entire section from scratch.
I soar through mechanical vistas high above the clouds, great white towers tuned to the turning of monumental gears. Engines fire and rockets launch in time to the wave of my hand. Above, a thousand satellites blossom amidst stars where twin suns collide...
Repetition is the key to Child of Eden. The game only has five proper stages, but in order to progress you will need to play each one many times over. There are various rewards to spur you on, but this is a rare game in that the stages draw you back in for the joy of playing them. And as you repeat stages, the game’s idiosyncrasies start to make sense. What may have initially seemed frustrating becomes an exciting challenge. The anticipated monotony of score-attack runs become a joyful experience, as the game rewards skilful play with visual flourish and a sense of achievement that goes beyond the star ranking it doles out at the end of a stage.
The cosmos contracts and expands around me, its heart beating to a celestial rhythm. I dive into wormholes, through transcendent tunnels, towards the heart of everything. Existence expands around me. I reach her prison, the core around which reality turns; I raise my hand and take aim...
I am very glad that a game like Child of Eden exists. It’s the antithesis to everything expected of a modern production. Rarely is a game genuinely beautiful the way Eden is. It’s a true audiovisual, multisensory experience, and it’s also a videogame, rigid in structure and unforgiving. One thing for certain; it’s not like anything else out there, game or otherwise, apart from its spiritual predecessor, Rez. Eden is Rez expanded, given greater depth and impact and beauty. It certainly won’t be to everyone’s tastes, but it’s definitely something I believe that anyone, gamer or otherwise, should at least experience.
