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Rain World
Mar. 6th, 2023 10:51 pmA review I posted in various places.
I am in love with Rain World. I haven't felt this way about a game since Dark Souls. Time to proselytize.
Rain World is a survival game with physics-based platforming, set in a richly simulated post-civilization ecosystem. You play as a "slugcat," basically a sentient tool-using pine marten in the middle of the food chain. Each cycle gives you a short period of time (about ten to fifteen minutes) to forage and explore before the crushing rain starts to pour. You start and end cycles in shelters evenly spaced across the automapped levels, whose maps are retained even after death. Hibernation requires three (on easy) or four (on normal) food items. Your basic food sources are hanging fruit and delicious bats, whose location you can roughly sense on the automap. There are many more food sources, each requiring some deduction or intuition on your part. A plethora of predators stand in your way, whose behavior is finely simulated. You can at times feel the frustration or anger of a thwarted predator. The lizards feel suitably lacertilian, the vultures suitably avian, the insects suitably insectoid, and the godawful monstrosities suitably godawful.
The platforming is astonishingly fun for a game whose jump height is no taller than its character. The jump (there are two kinds, distinguished by horizontal speed) mainly provides horizontal mobility, while vertical movement is best achieved by climbing. You quickly reach the point where you can reliably gauge your jumps. The gorgeous levels, each individually drawn, nonetheless have consistent units of dimension, allowing you to gauge the possibilities; for instance, you can crawl up through one-unit-wide spaces, and wall-jump up two- or three-unit ones. Building on these basics are an absurd number of advanced techniques; only yesterday, after some sixty hours of play, did I realize that I can kick off corners in tunnels for a substantial speed boost. Many of these advanced techniques involve your tools, which can be carried two at a time. The basic ones are bits of rubble (good for distraction or stunning an enemy) and rebar spears, good for attacking or creating impromptu platforms. The combat involving these spears has such a high skill ceiling that I still feel like I'm only middling at it. Then there are all sorts of situational items, like a small grub that can either be eaten or thrown into open spaces to attract its monstrous vulture parents. I'm still figuring out new uses and interactions for objects, dozens of hours in.
The ecosystem doesn't revolve around you. Other critters share your taste for bats, and may harass you if you compete with them. A small insect carrying eggs on its back is a welcome sight, being a complete meal on its own, but lizards also savor these. The same lizards that plague you are easy prey to vultures, and if a creature is in your way, waiting for some kind of systemic interaction between it and a newcomer is usually a better option than fighting. However, such a creature will rarely block your path entirely, because the maps are designed with multiple routes, both on the level of individual screens and on the macroscopic level. Broadly speaking, cycles become safer later on, as some predators are killed and others retire, well-fed, to their dens. If nothing else, everything flees to shelter when the rain approaches, giving you a minute of unhindered travel. To emphasize how much freedom there is even on a large scale, to reach the first major objective, a player might descend into the drainage system, emerge in vast garbage dump, then traverse a shoreline crowded with derelict machinery. On the other hand, that player might ascend to a industrial area, from there find a shadowy ruin, and struggle their way through to find themself at the end of the shoreline area. (These are not the only options!) All of these areas are gorgeous, each individually drawn room enhanced with various lighting effects.
The setting is post-humanity, but not, strictly speaking, post-apocalyptic. Rather, a hyper-advanced species converted every last bit of land to industrial, agricultural or residential use, before gradually dwindling away in pursuit of transcendence. The game is a masterclass in environmental storytelling. The original game featured three characters (corresponding to difficulty levels), each with its own individual story, and the expansion adds five more. The game's biggest downside is its high difficulty, but to go along with this there is a high skill ceiling. My first game was a relentless struggle, where every new shelter reached was an accomplishment. After beating the game once and starting anew to undo a decision I regretted, I found food plentiful and the foes surmountable. Then I tried the higher difficulty character and was right back in the struggle.
By God this game is good. It took force of will not to go back to playing it while I wrote this.
I am in love with Rain World. I haven't felt this way about a game since Dark Souls. Time to proselytize.
Rain World is a survival game with physics-based platforming, set in a richly simulated post-civilization ecosystem. You play as a "slugcat," basically a sentient tool-using pine marten in the middle of the food chain. Each cycle gives you a short period of time (about ten to fifteen minutes) to forage and explore before the crushing rain starts to pour. You start and end cycles in shelters evenly spaced across the automapped levels, whose maps are retained even after death. Hibernation requires three (on easy) or four (on normal) food items. Your basic food sources are hanging fruit and delicious bats, whose location you can roughly sense on the automap. There are many more food sources, each requiring some deduction or intuition on your part. A plethora of predators stand in your way, whose behavior is finely simulated. You can at times feel the frustration or anger of a thwarted predator. The lizards feel suitably lacertilian, the vultures suitably avian, the insects suitably insectoid, and the godawful monstrosities suitably godawful.
The platforming is astonishingly fun for a game whose jump height is no taller than its character. The jump (there are two kinds, distinguished by horizontal speed) mainly provides horizontal mobility, while vertical movement is best achieved by climbing. You quickly reach the point where you can reliably gauge your jumps. The gorgeous levels, each individually drawn, nonetheless have consistent units of dimension, allowing you to gauge the possibilities; for instance, you can crawl up through one-unit-wide spaces, and wall-jump up two- or three-unit ones. Building on these basics are an absurd number of advanced techniques; only yesterday, after some sixty hours of play, did I realize that I can kick off corners in tunnels for a substantial speed boost. Many of these advanced techniques involve your tools, which can be carried two at a time. The basic ones are bits of rubble (good for distraction or stunning an enemy) and rebar spears, good for attacking or creating impromptu platforms. The combat involving these spears has such a high skill ceiling that I still feel like I'm only middling at it. Then there are all sorts of situational items, like a small grub that can either be eaten or thrown into open spaces to attract its monstrous vulture parents. I'm still figuring out new uses and interactions for objects, dozens of hours in.
The ecosystem doesn't revolve around you. Other critters share your taste for bats, and may harass you if you compete with them. A small insect carrying eggs on its back is a welcome sight, being a complete meal on its own, but lizards also savor these. The same lizards that plague you are easy prey to vultures, and if a creature is in your way, waiting for some kind of systemic interaction between it and a newcomer is usually a better option than fighting. However, such a creature will rarely block your path entirely, because the maps are designed with multiple routes, both on the level of individual screens and on the macroscopic level. Broadly speaking, cycles become safer later on, as some predators are killed and others retire, well-fed, to their dens. If nothing else, everything flees to shelter when the rain approaches, giving you a minute of unhindered travel. To emphasize how much freedom there is even on a large scale, to reach the first major objective, a player might descend into the drainage system, emerge in vast garbage dump, then traverse a shoreline crowded with derelict machinery. On the other hand, that player might ascend to a industrial area, from there find a shadowy ruin, and struggle their way through to find themself at the end of the shoreline area. (These are not the only options!) All of these areas are gorgeous, each individually drawn room enhanced with various lighting effects.
The setting is post-humanity, but not, strictly speaking, post-apocalyptic. Rather, a hyper-advanced species converted every last bit of land to industrial, agricultural or residential use, before gradually dwindling away in pursuit of transcendence. The game is a masterclass in environmental storytelling. The original game featured three characters (corresponding to difficulty levels), each with its own individual story, and the expansion adds five more. The game's biggest downside is its high difficulty, but to go along with this there is a high skill ceiling. My first game was a relentless struggle, where every new shelter reached was an accomplishment. After beating the game once and starting anew to undo a decision I regretted, I found food plentiful and the foes surmountable. Then I tried the higher difficulty character and was right back in the struggle.
By God this game is good. It took force of will not to go back to playing it while I wrote this.
