by Adam Boffa
I was working on another article entirely when I decided to take a “quick break” to play the opening few minutes of Journey, the latest PSN release from thatgamecompany.
I’d kept up with the game a bit over the past year or two, but I didn’t know what to expect exactly. Initially, I stumbled around a big desert for a few minutes, not really sure where I was going or why I should be interested in the gameplay. A few moments after learning how to float around using my magic scarf, I started noticing a few flashes of white coming from the side of my screen, seemingly trying to gain my attention. I turned to discover a character that looked exactly like mine – some other player, from somewhere else in the world, that had no way of communicating with me other than by intoning a few notes with a button prompt.
I was approaching my self-imposed deadline — at which time I’d get back to work on another article — at this point, but I thought I’d give this multiplayer thing a shot. It seemed slightly silly, in a fun way. We floated around the landscape, activated some ancient magic vents filled with scarves, and created a big, beautiful bridge to the next area of this desert. As we crossed, our clones ran together in tandem and began to glow with that same, ancient magic. I made a mental note that I would try out another area or two before getting back to my Reaper article.
We explored a bunch of sand dunes. Enchanted ribbons chased us and carried us to ruins covered in murals. We ran together and recharged each other’s floating-scarf magic. Occasionally, we’d lose sight of each other, only to erupt in a joyous rendition of our own wordless communication after finding one another again. We surfed down a desert mountain, taking in the glorious view. We laughed (I think?). We cried (actually, probably not). We couldn’t talk much.
At some point, we found ourselves in the depths of some tunnels, maybe underwater. The mood changed, the lights darkened, and a giant sea creature threatened us, but my buddy and I stuck together. We approached an exit and I noticed a glowing symbol off to the side. Without hesitation, I ran after it, only to realize after grabbing it that I had abandoned my partner. I darted in the direction of the exit, screaming out as many notes as my robed figure could produce, hoping my companion would notice that I had fallen behind. It was too late – he was gone. My greed had cost me the only friend I had in this deserted landscape. I considered turning off my PS3.
I decided to push onward, alone. A few minutes into the next area, someone new appeared. And who the hell was this? His scarf was totally different. He didn’t know my pain or understand my history. But we were stuck together, so we kept going. I made as little contact as possible.
Eventually we came to a snow-covered mountain. The cold was bitter. Frost clasped our robes and brutal winds whipped us back. Our magic was in short supply here and evaporated quickly. It was slow, but we worked our way up to more ruins. The wind still threatened our climb at every turn until we reached a frozen bridge with a small gap in the center. It seemed like our trials were over for a few moments and I took the chance to size up what was coming next. My new partner did not have the same idea and jumped without looking.
I watched him fall all the way back down the mountain, so far that I could barely make him out from my vantage point. What a shame. That climb was certainly unforgiving. And it’d be even worse without some company. Tough luck, I thought.
And then I remembered how I had failed my companion from earlier.
We began to make our way back up the mountain, slowly but surely. No talking. It didn’t seem necessary, anyway.
Return to Journeys: A Curated Collection of Writing on thatgamecompany’s Journey
