Something unexpected happened in 2001: thousands of pubescent male gamers found themselves caring deeply for a female character in a videogame. These adolescents – along with many mature adults – developed a deep sense of affection towards a ghostly girl who wore pale, raggy clothing, had some strange mystical powers, possessed little in the way of a bust-line and was never once played for titillation. Her name was Yorda, and the act of holding her hand for some 6-8 hours of adventuring through a lonely, sun-soaked castle was enough to make her one of the most affecting characters that gaming has ever known.
The host game was Ico. For many it was the first justification for the then over-hyped PlayStation 2, not just from the perspective of visual grunt, but also from that of delivering a wholly new experience for a console that was, at that point, little more than a glorified DVD player. It was, in short, a very reasonable justification for the PS2's existence – visually striking, consciously unique, and unachievable on older consoles.
Within the context of the above paragraph, it may seem ironic that Ico started its life as a PSone project – and one that was looking impressive by the standards of its hardware at that. But then, Ico was a game that thrived on subtlety and understatement, and for all the cold logic that one may be able to reduce its puzzles to, the overall experience simply wouldn't have been possible on earlier generation hardware.
The difference is a matter of expression: the flapping of cloth; the eerie convincingness of the shadow monsters. Compared to games such as Devil May Cry, Ico's combat feels loose and imprecise, but this is only befitting of a young boy whose only instinct is to wildly swing a piece of wood; a boy who, when knocked down, stays down until some pain subsides. Not only is this acceptable, within the context of the rest of the game's story and mechanics, it's often beneficial – resulting in some truly nail-biting moments.
This can all be attributed to Yorda. Ico's creator, Fumito Ueda, carries an Art School pedigree and it doesn't seem unreasonable to assume that this man has a strong fondness for themes of isolation and companionship. As a gameplay device, Yorda is both a tool and a walking obstacle. There are moments where young Ico needs her assistance, but there are many more when she will need his.
Ico was one of the most stunningly atmospheric and unique-looking games on PS2.
More significantly, however, she becomes a defenceless friend in a world of abandonment, and by turn an object that must be protected. Ueda intentionally set up a language barrier and introduced a mechanic for holding hands. The attempt to escape from the castle – the game's straightforward, ultimate goal – palpably brings Ico and Yorda closer together, a common human reaction to shared hardships. To leave her alone is to risk her capture by shadow creatures, and to allow this capture is so conceptually heartbreaking that every swing of that block of wood matters, each blow backed by a weight a thousand times more powerful than the petty demoralisation inspired by game over screens.
Fast-forward a few years and Shadow of the Colossus would go on to achieve the near impossible: it would break out of Ico's mould, become its own game, but still retain the spiritual quintessence of Ueda's debut work. To use a dirty word, Fumito Ueda provided sophomoric evidence of being a genuine auteur.
Wide open expanses in which to roam in Shadow of the Colossus.
This time, the landscape would no longer be walled off by a beautiful but sorrowful castle; replaced, instead, by a beautiful but sorrowful collection of open grassland, forest and desert. There would be no female companion to accompany the hero on his adventure, either – instead his quest would be to restore her life-force, no matter the cost. More importantly, Ueda's fascination with companionship in the face of lonely circumstances would be upheld thanks to Agro, one remarkable steed.
There were numerous things that could be considered standout in Ico, and towards the very top of the list would be Yorda's artificial intelligence. Her pathfinding was impressive, and her cautious wandering believable. Agro would go on to improve on this, and remains the most believable horse in any game to date. In fact, he's probably the only believable one.
Such a feat would come with an obvious sacrifice of control, and Ueda has spoken of his concern in intentionally delaying input reactions in order to simulate the control of a man who is controlling a horse. For most gamers, such a fear proved unfounded – Agro felt more natural because of his instincts, and for his ability to veer towards the most comfortable path to his destination: his behaviour felt dynamic and alive. He was loyal, but not robotic, and the result was strong empathy. This relationship between man and beast continued to matter, and both seemed willing to put their lives on the line for a mysterious, lifeless girl.
One of the smaller colossi.
Exploring these open lands, the pair tracks down a series of majestic giants with the intent of slaying each one, irrespective of the consequences. Walls would have made no difference: the hero here quickly proves to be an expert climber. The collective Colossi referred to in the title are amazing, and often innocent beasts, each one representing a fresh challenge and series of obstacle puzzles-of-sorts as the hero clambers all over their bodies in order to plunge cold steel into mystically marked, vulnerable areas. To this day it remains one of the few games to elicit genuine remorse from a mass user base – some gamers even went so far as to say that they were unable to complete the game due to being too guilt-stricken by their actions.
Although far more action-intense, Colossus' gameplay matched Ico's vision in many ways: each beast was essentially a platforming puzzle that needed to be figured out in order to progress, cooperation with a living companion would be required, and a remarkably rich narrative would reveal itself through actions rather than words. Ico thought small and intricate; Colossus thought grand and epic.
Quite possibly the best concept for a puzzle platformer ever.
The Last Guardian appears to be taking tabs on both mentalities.
Speculation about Team Ico's newest project would have been running amuck for a few years now had there been anything to speculate about. Only just prior to E3 was an amazing piece of footage leaked, and it wasn't until Sony's press conference that the real trailer was shown, confirming the project and making the previous footage look archaic in the process.
Flying in the face of early review assumptions about his games being light on story, and perhaps even his own intentions, Ueda appears to be slowly creating one of the richest fantasy worlds ever conceived. Shadow of the Colossus appears related to Ico only in style until one devastating, striking moment pulls the narrative threads together fantastically, brilliantly, as the player sits shocked, dumbfounded by the full meaning of the revelation.
Falkor for this generation?
As such, the narrative of The Last Guardian is a fixture of much fascination, and a little willing guesswork. The trailer managed to be a mix of the expected and the anticipated in its apparent seamless merger of many of the traits from Team Ico's previous two games – the scale of Colossus is accounted for alongside Ico's more walled-in design. Other details abound, also, such as fully armoured solders that may look like those that Ueda contemplated including in Ico.
The visual design is the most familiar fare, but utterly breathtaking nonetheless. The rich artistry of Ueda's vision is often cited, but one has to wonder about the technology used to achieve this. Ico actually looked sunny, while Shadow of the Colossus convincingly simulated visual effects that the Playstation 2 simply wasn't capable of, had gameplay that required unprecedented collision detection, and played with draw distance to present a massive, open world uninterrupted by a single loading screen. For Guardian, the feathers on the creature now known as 'Toriko' are the most immediate standout, and you'd have to be in denial to try and point towards a more lifelike fantasy creature in any game on the market or in known development.
You can clearly see Ueda's very distinct art and lighting style in The Last Guardian.
Little is yet known about the gameplay, although cooperation between the boy and Toriko can be taken for granted. In one of few forthcoming moments, Ueda has already let slip that players shouldn't expect this creature to be too bright, and that they may have to lure it to help with tasks and tempt it to behave.
Whatever the expectation, Ueda is a man with a perfectionist vision (one that has resulted in both hiring and morale problems in the past), and there is little doubt that the game is a potentially huge boon for the PlayStation 3. After all, Ico is frequently mislabelled as underrated, probably because of its sales, while Shadow of the Colossus not only met expectation, but managed more respectable sales to go alongside the critical praise. It even knocked Need for Speed: Most Wanted from the number 1 position on UK games charts (admittedly after it had been there for eleven weeks).
A boy and his towering mystical pet.
There's little doubt that The Last Guardian will be a production of the highest standard. For some it might even just be a long overdue justification for the entire existence of the PlayStation 3.
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