I'm just going to jump right into this one, so feel free to check out the game trailer on YouTube for some audio-visual context.
The playing experience in VVVVVV is built around a simple game mechanic that replaces traditional jumping with gravity inversion. By hitting the action button, the player character flips upside down (or right side up) and gravitates toward the ceiling (or the floor). Functionally, this works similarly to a jump, but not quite. It's actually a fall. With a jump, we know that what goes up must come down. A gravity flip in VVVVVV, however, cannot be reversed until the player character's feet have touched solid ground. Therefore, each flip is a—sometimes scary—vertical commitment, although the player can move freely left and right mid-fall. Getting across an obstacle, such as a room of spikes, isn't a matter of momentum or running speed. It's about finding a safe path of alternating surfaces.
The overall structure of VVVVVV
bears similarity to the early Metroid and
later Castlevania games,
wherein the action unfolds on a single sprawling 2D map that reveals
itself only through exploration. But that's about where the
similarities end. While the game, like Metroid,
takes place in a mysterious space setting, the aesthetic of VVVVVV
isn't one of loner-ism or desolate isolation. As the captain of a
scientific research vessel trapped in a strange dimension, the player
must seek out and rescue five lost crew mates. So, while the player
does venture out solo for the bulk of the game, the motivation is one
of friendship and reunion. There are no standard enemies in
VVVVVV. The player's only foe
is the dangerous environment itself, one that will require both logic
and dexterity to overcome (that's another way of saying the game is a
puzzle platformer).
This
may sound strange and/or effusively sentimental, but the narrative
framework and retro art style encompassing the action of VVVVVV
is kind of adorable—the way
the characters appear, like six happy little golems, identical save
for their color swaps; their friendly dialogue and the manner in
which they face their predicament with such positivity, such
enthusiasm for the opportunity of scientific discovery. It's an attitude
reinforced also in the chiptune soundtrack, with song titles that
include “Passion for exploring,” “Positive force,” and
“Potential for anything” (the soundtrack—available here—is
titled “PPPPPP”). Again, this is almost the aesthetic
antithesis of Metroid or
Castlevania.
One
thing that I found refreshing about VVVVVV
was the way in which the entire map, although initially hidden, is
completely accessible from the get go. There is no predetermined path
for the player to follow. Why is this so wonderful? For one, it
eliminates the need for backtracking. Progress is not incumbent on
flipping switches in one part of the map to access another part of
the map, only a matter of platforming skill. In this way, the game
functions like one grand (but humble) experiment in asymmetrical
level design, with each map section built around a particular exploit
of the gravity flipping mechanic.
And
Cavanagh certainly makes some interesting design choices throughout
the game, one being his use of color. Each of the six characters, for
example, is named after their associated color (and since each name
starts with the letter “V,” this leads to some pretty creative
names). These six colors are the same ones used throughout the game
world, which for the player is composed of individual, interlocking
screens (a method sometimes called flip-screen), kind of like in The Legend of Zelda.
While a few areas of the game experiment with screen scrolling and
wrapping, most of them are just your standard, static location
screens.
I think one of the most profound
sensations of the game happens while traversing the large, open-space
areas just outside the spaceship. Unlike in the corridors that make
up most of the game, these sections of the map become quickly
disorienting. Out here a single flip
can send the player character floating across several screens before
ever touching ground. This means a player falling to the bottom of
one screen will immediately appear at the top of the next screen.
Because of the swift and constant falling speed, the part of the
brain that processes these spatial shifts has a difficult time
keeping up and making sense of the larger map. This is only further
compounded by the fact that Cavanagh—through his playful
experimentation with color—does not maintain color consistency
between screens. In other words, a yellow surface on one screen might
be a red surface on the next.
I
think one reason why this setup works well is because it also
reinforces the notion that each screen represents a standalone idea: a particular platforming challenge, an interesting visual layout, or an unusual flow or pattern of
movement. Notice how individual screens have individual titles that comment on
these very ideas. And isn't this the way more games should be
designed, with meaning and expression in every detail?
Taken
as a whole, VVVVVV
represents a fantastic vision and a gem of a game.
Playing it is like taking a leap of faith, a joyous plunge into the unknown.
