Islands: Non Places

Let me just start all this off with the only thing you need to know about my experience here.

I have never met a more accurate manifestation of my existential horror than I did playing this game.

Islands: Non Places is a self-described 'interactive artscape' created by Carl Burton (who I have heard of before! Pretty sure we went over some of his artwork in class!!) and originally realeased in 2016. Obviously, this game has been out for years, many much more qualified people have played and reviewed this in much better terms and detail and probably not while in the midst of a crisis. I mean, the Itch.io page even has a bunch of links to articles listed that I'm going to be looking through after this post goes up cause my feelings right now need validation.

To start, it's an art piece. I understand that, but there is just something that this game managed to do and be that made every survival instinct I still have go haywire in ways I haven't felt since last time we almost died on a ghost hunt. It was spooky and off-putting and, frankly, made me want to cry.

Did I cry? No.

Did I want to? Y e s.

Between the surrealist imagery and the off putting audio and the general mundane horror of being in a mall or an airport or a parking lot, it's an objectivly beautiful game. The graphics and designs of each stage are frankly amazing. Changing the angles you're looking at the scenes at really helps pull you in to the concepts around each stage and see the whole landscape for what it is. And honestly? It's vaguely, horrifically cinematic.

But, just, the bus stop scene prior to the eggs? Disconcerting. As a regular bus rider (even during the plague) I have been at my fair share of empty bus stops on low visibility nights. It's spooky and probably one of the worst things to do after work. It's already not a fun situation to be in so what came next was extra uncomfy. Just, can we please also talk about the eggs? The chirping sounds when the bus doors opened, while scary, were not really the worst part of it. The eggs? The incubator/bus stop? The color changes? I almost quit the game right there. I thought I had accidentily started a horror game without preparing properly.

The escalator trees? Horrifying. I had no idea what I was looking at at first, I was still reeling from the subteranian fountain stage and just saw things moving. I was too scared to look around at first, wouldn't move the camera at all until things had stretched on too long and my roommate thought I was watching a horror movie from the look on my face.

Any of the ones with plant or fountain scenes? Nightmares. Full Scale Nightmares. I have never felt so much fear at the site of a fountain before. A ficus should not inspire that kind of terror.

Do not speak to me about the laptop and rain scene. If ever there was a scene in any form of media that inspired the sheer terror and horror everytime one of those goddamn blocks would rise, I have not met it until now.

The parking lot?

Baggage Claim?

This damn game almost gave me a goddamn breakdown from the sheer anxiety of what each stage would bring next. It's stunning and terrifying and I kind of want to throw it away and play it again at the same time. Can someone explain why please? I can't even tell if I had fun? Was this fun to play or am I just having a hard time processing?

Mr. Burton, why?

I'm not usually very in touch with my feelings, but I know what fear feels like. And I really did not think this would be the emotions and game we started the New Year with here, but I guess we did start this blog for artsy games and we finally played an Art Game.

As much as current me doesn't like the idea, I'll probably revisit this game later now that I know what to expect from it. For both my piece of mind and to get a better understanding of what all this is. It's a beautiful piece and I want to get a better handle of the nuances that I definitly skipped over in my crisis while playing.

I don't know if I'll post an update or not, guess we'll just have to see.

That's enough from me for tonight. I'm going to bed.

Happy dreams.