Super Arts – Remember Me

Remember Me was unveiled to me at E3 2012 and was one of a handful of games I’d decided to buy upon first glance, a love at first sight kind of thing, and I would be resolute in this naive decisiveness. This happens rarely but there’s reason behind my impulsiveness: art. Simple. Granted such shallow exuberance has left me astray in the past but the day I stop believing is a sad, sad day. In my own opinion, if a game’s art style resonates with me at first glance I check it out at my earliest convenience. If it resonates the way Remember Me did it’s a day one purchase. It didn’t disappoint. The world’s wonderful aesthetic starts strong and proceeds to get better; some of the environments towards the end are truly beautiful.

The game itself isn’t bad at all but it’s a huge shame that the gameplay couldn’t step aside and let the art do its thing. Mostly it’s the blistering pace with which Nilin hurtles through environments that makes it difficult for the art design to really impact you. There’s a saying I use to explain the necessary processes involved in allowing a piece of art to talk to you and that is “drink it in.” It explains taking time to allow everything to settle and absorb and appreciate. But Nilin is hell-bent on munching right through with nary a concern for the delights abundant.

However, when control is taken from you during Loading/Chapter screens Nilin adopts a more contemplative tone. Here she is alone with herself and afforded the time to postulate upon her choices and circumstances in a glorious expanse – a digitised imagining of the/her subconscious – where memories have substance and synapses are tangible. Geometric blocks are piled all around, creating sculptures of amassed memories that stubbornly sit around the landscape, seemingly permanent but worryingly transient. Experiences are Bytes of data that swirl organically through the great, boundless, mindscape. A spotlight illuminates Nilin from above as she bestows upon the audience an intimate moment between acts whilst balancing, often precariously but always confidently, on the sculptural residents of the temporal chasm.

The background is coloured in a really interesting way. It’s a deep, dark, warm reddish brown – almost like rich coffee colours. The silvery-white wisps bounce off the dark background creating a stunning, almost surreal environment. It’s an incredibly effective and aesthetically rewarding passage in the game that’s very effective at conveying Nilin’s thoughts in solitude but in a far more meaningful way than just narration. One reason for this is the control the art director has when framing the scenes as the camera is never inhibited by environment nor space. The art director has 100% control over how we see this world and they present it in a creative, unique, yet restrained way. Untethered by depictions of optical reality, laws of physics and spatial constraints, these moments between chapters are impactful and poignant and incredibly important to letting us know who Nilin really is, as here she is at her most vulnerable, candid, and loquacious.

Not only do these moments have practical uses in closing the previous chapter whilst transitioning into the proceeding one they serve to develop Nilin as a human being as it literally casts a light on her, elucidating her innermost feelings. They are also a very powerful and effective way of establishing an aesthetic. These stolen moments between action and exploration are part of the game’s visual identity. They show us a set of design choices and colour how we experience the world with mood as well as metaphor. Nilin’s tentative steps when stepping out onto uncertain footing is a direct link to the real world and the long, thin, plunging stairwells mirror her journey as well as her fate. Her path is set and, despite many turns, the angled-spiral has a certain outcome.