![]() To a certain sort of person, SpaceChem is more than just a series of challenges it’s a set of finely calibrated tools for creating brain-teasing fun of the most satisfying sort. ![]() The complexity of solutions combined with the fact they will be your solutions rather than the games is a mark of the intelligence dictating the entire design. I haven't enjoyed a puzzle game this much for years, if ever. Although its approach is very different, with text and static graphics as its building blocks, it has some elements in common with Portal 2’s narrative, focusing as it does on experimentation, and an odd and sometimes disturbing corporate history. But there it is – a lengthy story that’s very well-written indeed, with a sense of humour and a darkness to it. SpaceChem doesn’t need that carrot because it may well by my favourite puzzle game of all time. As long as that carrot looks delicious enough, I’ll drag myself on, with a slug-like trail of viscera in my wake. It’s the carrot that keeps me going, while the seventeen sticks of brain-ache beat my legs into a bloody mess of splintered bone and meat pudding. I often think I’d enjoy more puzzle games if they had a narrative framework, however slight. I shan't leave without mentioning the story though. Or the music, which is fantastic and often stirs me on to greater feats of heroic chemical bonding. I’ve not even touched on the crisp, clean visuals, which communicate everything effectively and with a neat simplicity that fits the world like a particularly snug glove. There will always be someone who has found a more elegant or more insane solution than you thought possible. Not only does that provide an extra spur for greater glory through efficient science, it also highlights the ridiculous and diverse ways in which its possible to solve each challenge. Not only the addition of a sandbox mode, which I haven’t had a proper chance to try yet but love the idea of, but the fact that the game tracks stats from every player. SpaceChem turns me into a machine that is more capable of complex interconnected thoughts processes than the human version of me. I am immediately an intelligent, sentient being again rather than a calculating machine purpose-built for a specific role. The 94% of my brain that was devoted to maintaining an overview of how each new link or alteration might bring things to a grinding halt is suddenly free again. Combined with the amount of time I can spend on a level, that complexity means that when a task is complete and the circuits are humming away at top speed, there is a relief such as I rarely experience. It’s just that later on, the amount of systems in play, all relying on one another, can be very daunting indeed. I’ve never walked away from SpaceChem because it all makes perfect sense to me. My brain rebels against the notion so I walk away. Visualising and manipulating objects of specific size and shape is incredibly difficult for me. I have a very low capacity for solving anything that requires spatial awareness, for example. There are problems, in life and in gaming, that cause me to throw up my hands and admit defeat. Sure enough, as progress is made and multiple complex reactors are required, SpaceChem can give the stoutest of brains a stern workout, but my aggressive streak is fuelled by the intense concentration required rather than the elusive nature of the solution. That may seem like a comment on the obtuse difficulty of the puzzles but it’s not. Any interruptions during a particularly complex level can cause me to unleash such a torrent of foul abuse that I may as well be spewing raw sewage in the faces of those who would dare bring me a cup of coffee or a handkerchief with which to mop my furrowed brow. Dots zooming around on a screen that looks dangerously like a programmable circuit, with my good self hunched before it, grimacing like a man who has inadvertently sat on a part of his own anatomy. The reason I place the useless caveat before talking about Space Chem is because it’s the only game I’ve played extensively this year that casual onlookers mistake for some form of punishment or work. You can’t do it because you’re not everyone and you don’t know the fellow who is. Show me anything in the world - other than the smooth and buttery taste of Bastion Bourbon* - that everybody enjoys. Show me any game in our stuffed-full-of-goodness Advent calendar that is for everyone. What a gloriously preposterous thing to say. Something has clearly gone horribly wrong but we'll just have to try and put it all back together again, step by step, and hope the reaction isn't one of total disappointment.Īdam: Space Chem is not for everyone. As the Advent door creaks open, a pungent smell pours out, causing eyes to water for miles around and entire species of flower to wither into extinction.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |