Great Video Games: Bastion

What makes the new indie title ‘Bastion’ so endearing, is above all, how nearly every aspect is tuned to feel personal. An experience, whether game, film, or novel, will always benefit from feeling personal to their respective viewer/player. Feeling a close connection like that is at the stem emotional attachment, and that attachment is what’s going to eventually cause someone to gush about that piece of fiction to all their friends. The exception is if you’re trying to make a point about being cold and impersonal, ala Stanley Kubrick. But chances are, you aren’t Stanley Kubrick. SuperGiant Games aren’t, but that doesn’t make Bastion any less beautiful.

Firstly, the game is made from love.  Writer and director Greg Kasavin states "Our goal is to make the kinds of games that spark people's imaginations like the ones they played as kids." And that it certainly does, evoking the fantasy images of SNES games like Zelda, Final Fantasy and Secrets of Mana, all which felt like magical games entailing their own version of the archetypal ‘heroes Journey’ But this isn’t the stagnant kind of nostalgic evocation. Bastion isn’t simply restoring nostalgic images like the Ocarina of Time remake is, it’s restoring nostalgic energy. So while Bastion may have the whimsical air of old snes adventures, it strives to be something more.

Enter the in-game narrator, voiced by Logan Cummingham, who’s exquisitely virile voice adds a world-weary cowboy sensibility to the fantasy, creating a completely unique world. This world, we see at the end, waking up as a character known only as ‘The Kid’ and finding the world in an apocalypse known as the ‘calamity’. This may seem banal, but Bastion carefully avoids the clichés of hefty exposition quickly explaining its cause and effect, or an overwrought cut- scene showing generic explosions and running civilians. Rather, it has the narrator (One of four characters in the game) gravely describe the world as you discover it. That’s part of why it feels so personal. Narration can be missed depending on your actions, how you fight, what you find, and other general behaviour. On the surface it seems simple, but the writing has a special respect for brevity and cadence, giving a melancholic atmosphere. Simple statements that are contrastingly small to the damage done by the calamity are made, and through that, the writer rebuilds the importance of loss that a world can face through an apocalypse, which is something we’ve taken for granted in narratives. ‘Words can’t describe what happened. But they’re all I got’

Logan Cumingham is a revelation. He isn’t simply a good voice actor speaking lines plainly, like Nolan North often does. He’s elevating them, and working melodically with the writing, creating an entity that can’t exist without either. Together, words and voice find a poetic rhythm, and inject it into the game’s world, giving every aspect a flavoursome Je ne sai quoi ‘The city was the most beautiful place in the world. We all knew that. But some people yearn for what they can’t see. And that’s why you go to Prosper Bluff, ain’t it?’ It makes every moment feel like some mythic ballad, furthered by its beautifully mournful soundtrack.

It may seem silly that by this point in the article, I’ve only really talked about style and narrative. But this isn’t the kind of game which you can describe as having ‘better story than gameplay’ or vice versa, because they’re one in the same. It’s through interactivity that the story is told, and the amalgamation is perfect. Never does the story overwhelm the gameplay, as the language of how you play doesn’t change when narrative elements are being implemented (except at the end) so you can essentially ignore any and all the nuances of the writing and story, since they’re so slight, everything done within the stock animations of each character/enemy type. A good example is a nice moment early on in the game, where a group of the same enemy type surround you, and their leader, a bigger version of them confronts you. Upon defeating him, I expected his minions to move in, but instead little hearts plopped above their heads. I realized that in defeating their leader, I had become the alpha-male of the pack. Bastion has lots of nice little moments like these.

The levels are mostly linear, organized with narrow floating platforms, which have no invisible walls to block you falling.. Bastion is such a minimalistic game, that it makes this appropriate. The way you use the space your given is an important part of tactics, and is directly related to the tools you use within in them. There are various weapons in the game, and each has their own rhythm to them. With two load outs, you essentially get freedom within linearity. And make no mistake; each weapon is completely unique. This isn’t the kind of game where a new upgrade counts as a new weapon. They all have their distinct language, and it’s important to see how they relate to each challenge. A careful combination can feel almost like a meticulous origami piece; firm and impressive, yet easily unfolded given the right attitude. (or in this case enemy type) The combat also isn’t separate from the narrative, each weapon getting their own lore and flavour, which again, contributes to how personal the game feels. ‘Kid falls on a Breaker’s bow that ain’t broke’

It’s nice to see a game in which the grandiose scope of the world is left mostly to one’s imagination. The writing chooses to build it up the calamity slowly, and structure it around four characters, each with distinct motivations and histories (except the narrator, who’s ambiguity puts a nice twist on the reliability of our perceptions) It gives the whole game a feeling of inward intimacy, which we don’t get as often as we should in video games.

-Taha