What is the world made of? In games and films the answer is often surprising. There is a wonderful moment in Inception in which Ariadne – , Nolan – takes a Parisian boulevard and folds it over on itself. It’s one of those instances of sheer cinematic glory: the horizon rises up and bends back, until buildings rest overhead and the sky is dark with tarmac and cobbles.
Beyond the effects, what sells this moment? The reactions, certainly: DiCaprio as ever gets a lot into the business of doing very little. But there’s also a sound effect that for me elevates the whole thing. What should it sound like for a city to fold over on itself? In Inception it sounds both sparse and industrial: the core of the thing is the sound of an iron support pinging and creaking under growing strain. Paris is made of limestone, isn’t it? But in Inception, for this instance, it’s really made of iron: the framework bends and flexes but will ultimately hold. Paris, like Irn Bru, is made of girders.
Inception is a movie with architectural preoccupations, so perhaps this flair for buried structure should be expected. Monument Valley, which I’ve been playing on and off for the last few weeks, also has architectural preoccupations. So what is world made of? Taut strings plucked and clockwork turning: you move the landscape around and you hear evidence of escapements and other watch parts, dainty old music boxes and tightly rigged automata. All of this conjured through sound. All of this the kind of stuff that children ought not be allowed to play with for fear of damaging.
Deeply childish, for years I avoided playing the Monument Valley games, even though they seemed to exist at the intersection of so many things I find fascinating: art, architecture and optical illusions. Over the last month or so I have finally entered their delicate world. I’ve done ’em all: the first game, various bits of what seem to be DLC, and finally, this last week, the sequel, Monument Valley 2. It’s been very interesting. These are beautifully made games, and they seem to me to raise a number of questions about in games, about the relationship between the player and the designer, and about the roles, as it were, that the player and the designer often inhabit in unstated ways.
Play Monument Valley Panoramic Edition on Steam Watch on YouTube
Playing them in such a compacted time period has been very rewarding. Over the course of the games I can see that they have changed quite a lot. There is a sense throughout of an idea evolving, of new minds coming in and seeing new potential. As the elements get more complex, there’s also that thing you get with Lego sets, with new bricks being invented to suit specific needs, and then entering the wider pool of available Lego bricks in general, where they in turn become part of the standard arsenal of future designers. Levels get more complicated and also more streamlined: designers learn how to be audacious, but also how to get out of their own way.