Be sure to check out Kazimir Malevich, El Lissitzky’s mentor.
Before I talk about Trauma, let me talk about Proun; another obscure contender for best game of the decade (also developed by a single auteur) in spite of the fact that it did not displace any games in previous instalments. Proun, like Trauma, is an experiment; but here the experiment is one of aesthetics, not theory. Inspired not by canon but by a minor movement of the canon—El Lissitzky’s PROUN: Project of the Affirmation of the New; in Russian the acronym makes sense—it is essentially an abstract racing game. Instead of driving around a circuit, the player circles around a cylinder; each corner a geometrical shape attached to the cylinder that the player must spin out of the way of. Aesthetically it is a powerful interpretation of Proun19D, and there is no other game that looks anything like it.
But just as impressive as its aesthetic achievement is that it is equally compelling a racing game. In spite of its 3D visuals, Proun plays more like a classic 2D racing game. Reminiscent of the likes of Outruns, the abstract aesthetic allows for an expressive freedom in track design that has no equal, making for one of the most complex and intense time attack experiences this side of iRacing qualification. If only more people had participated in its leaderboards, and built a community around the most original and one of the best racing games of the decade...
A rare insight into Tom Towers’ critical process, here are some notes he found for his review of Trauma!
Trauma is as remarkable as it is obscure. The homework of Krystian Majewski, it was made with flash and a Sony DSC-F17! If anyone had heard of it, it would be an important game in the indie canon: a deliberate experiment of a game, Krystian Majewski studied the adventure game genre and decided to emphasise narrative over puzzle design (although the narrative itself is something of a puzzle, and the puzzles themselves are fun) and use some archaic techniques (such as FMV cutscenes) to create something simultaneously unlike anything preceding it, yet clearly the progeny of the likes of The Last Express and Myst—modernist technique at its finest!
Although the plot’s main draw is its mystery rather than the emotional impact of the super low budget FMVs, the melancholy lyricism of the ethereal puzzles, navigation, photography and narration come together to make something entrancingly beautiful, and the narrative is a surprisingly authentic emotional expression, considering the experimental nature of its conception.
I have returned to Trauma almost as many times as I have returned to Ico, the greatest game ever made; and nearly as beautiful as Trauma. Trauma, like Ico, in spite of drawing on some obvious influences, and without being obscurantist, manages to be an enigmatic experience—one that is endlessly fascinating, in the way that all beauty is.
But, unfortunately for the reader, beauty, like love, is undefinable, indescribable and, most of all, unjustifiable; so anything I write and you read about Trauma is sheer folly. Trauma is beautiful, and I am not so foolish (or brave?) a poet to try and encapsulate it in a metaphor. I was, however, foolish (brave?) enough a critic to review it, giving it a miserly 3.5/5. This score, and review, are perfect illustrations of the pretentious folly that is criticism:
Ever the supreme wit, even in his proofreading notes!
Trauma opens with lovely, ghostly headlights, brake lights and indicators Tronning their way along the road. Naturally it ends in disaster: light collides as the title predicts and you wake up—no, you don’t: you dream in a hospital bed. Four recurring dreams that are far more tranquil than nightmarish. But they are not without their horrors. Each dream repeats endlessly until you can bring it to its natural end(s): an end that is often more stifling and suffocating than the dream itself.
Each dream has four endings: with one main ending that triggers a cutscene: dialogue between doctor and patient. The alternative endings offer a musing, but go no further than that. There are also photos to collect. The photos act as the game’s manual and hint system showing you the controls and where to find, and how to solve, all the alternate endings.
There’s only so many ways to turn, and you’re already facing backwards.
The hint system has one rather large problem. It’s too helpful. It tells you everything you need to do to trigger the alternative endings except where they are (though you can easily extrapolate its location from the photo) and what dream they are in. You switch back and forth from dream to dream, and there’s no reason to play all the dreams in chronological order: the cutscenes play out the same way no matter what.
At first, when you figure out that some photos are hints, it’s helpful. After that they are tantamount to spoilers and end up making the gameplay an exercise in glorified pixel hunting. Admittedly without the hints this would still be the case due to the ‘alternative ending’ puzzles being solved the same way in every level. But without the hints there would at least be a little more excitement when you find what triggers the alternative ending. Having already seen it in the photo-clue takes away from that somewhat.
A flick of the wrist and the tangible becomes intangible.
I say glorified pixel hunting because it is without the frustration of that ever annoying adventure gaming trope. You are not literally pixel hunting, but moving in first person à la Myst and other adventure games and looking for photos and things to interact with. The movement is smoother than most thanks to Trauma’s main gameplay hook: you can draw symbols on the screen to move, and to interact with the world.
You can still click where you want to go, but being able to draw a semi-circle to spin around on the spot or an arrow to move backwards while still facing forwards and the like saves time and gives the game a real flow and organic feel. There are also the three symbols that you’ll acquire as you continue through the game such as a hook to lift spheres and so forth. These solve the puzzles and unlock the endings.
The problem is that there are only three symbols, and they’re always used in exactly the same manner. All you must do is find where the trigger to end the level is. However there is enjoyment in finding the trigger. The story is told through narration from the protagonist talking about her current day fears and anxieties, and her past experiences from when she was growing up. They’re all tasty morsels of information, and it’s a joy to find photos of her past and try to piece together her psyche.
But there are only 9 photos per level, and most of the photos consist of clues or control instructions. While they don’t form the only parts of the story I couldn’t help but feel a little unsatisfied when the credits rolled. I had been introduced to the character, grown to like her, and then the game ended. There was no greater insight than that. Not to mention that her condition belied her Trauma: eight nights (at the very least. One dream per night? Recurring? 4×2=8!) in a hospital after a car crash and she’s positively waltzing out of the front door by the end of her stay.
As a metaphor it works a little better. Her inner turmoil leaves her numb rather than outwardly in pain, but the ending comes across as relief, yet nothing has really been solved and while she has come to accept some things there is no great feeling of character growth. The second ending that is unlocked when you complete all main and alternate dream endings solves these problems, but does not completely overcome the bitter taste that lingers from the first.
Graffiti juxtaposed with vandalism.
But visually Trauma is beautiful, and at times quite touching. While I find nothing more lovely than dirty, filthy and rusty old docks in a state of decay, the way that the second dream presents said docks as a place of nostalgia, childhood curiosity and naive worship, will surely leave even the staunchest of germaphobes entranced by its beauty.
The crushing, totalitarian way a freeway and tunnel is presented as an endless, looping road with signs that “really want you to know your way” is captured perfectly. The loneliness of the first dream in a place that should be anything but lonely yet of course is—a cafe at night—is once again realised very well. The final dream that consists of an endless road that leads nowhere while on either side of it are both billboards and nature: the nature can be explored (and leads somewhere) unlike the road, but just as easily one can be fatally lost amongst the thistle and the shrubs just begs to be explored.
“ZZZ…” still recovering from the Okabu review I see…
The sound does its part too. The music is subtle, and I barely noticed it. That just means it was perfectly done. It let the visuals take centre stage, and while I don’t agree that a naturalistic style of acting ever works successfully when an actor has only the voice to use (and it doesn’t here; while the cutscenes are live action, they are filmed in a way that the actors must still work almost only with their voices) it does mean that once again the visuals and writing are left to tell the story.
It’s a story that is perhaps disappointingly shallow, but it’s a shallow story with an engaging protagonist, and it’s beautifully told—no, it’s beautifully shown. If only she’d spent a little longer in hospital. Then perhaps I could have come to know her just that little bit better.