Many of your discoveries in the game are accompanied by a sweeping camera pan and an associated sense of wonder as you gaze upon things that will not be explained or expounded upon. There is nothing to comprehend or analyse on a surface level – no overt commentary, conversations or text to read – everything is metaphorically layered and hidden behind a game which is fundamentally relaxing and meditative. Throughout what is at most a two hour experience from end to end, you dive through sunken ruins, schools of fish and alongside gargantuan whales as they dive far down into the depths of the ocean world you explore. If not, I hope this piece encourages you to experience it.ĪBZÛ is a game about swimming – there is no context or exposition to justify why you are swimming, but it gives the whole experience a certain grace of movement, similar to that of a dolphin elegantly pushing through the resistance of the water. If you have not played ABZÛ but intend to do so soon, you should play it before you read the rest of this article. What then, am I to do about games which have no dialogue and no developed characters? Today I’d like to take a look at one of the most engaging environmental exploration games of 2016 – ABZÛ. My goal is to hold video game writing to account as if it were literature because, in my view, that is the only way we can expect the medium to become more socially conscious and to enable it to become more intellectually challenging in the same way great books and articles are. I generally attempt to analyse them, as described very well by one of my friends, ‘as if they were literary texts’. I often write about dialogue, characterisation and critiquing the writing of video games.

Abzu shells