Gris – A Game To Experience

Disclaimer: This article includes moderate spoilers for the game’s various stages.

A melodious voice starts to sing amidst an emotional piano track as a girl appears, singing woefully, resting on a comforting palm. As the first falsetto wears off, the second just falters. The girl clutches her throat in disbelief and falls on the palm, which begins to crack. As the world around her crumbles, she runs for cover, but everything breaks down and she falls. She falls, descending through the colours of life and then there is blankness. Gris begins as the journey of a young girl who has lost her mother and must now traverse the world of grief, finding the lost pieces of her world, step by step. This is the simple yet powerful premise of Gris, a game so brilliantly simple yet evocative like few others. In essence, a horizontal scrolling platformer with light puzzles, Gris focuses on experience rather than providing a challenge to the player.

As the character falls to the ground, her world is devoid of all colour except that of her hair, which is green. Through denial, the first stage of grief, she stumbles her way across this black and white world, unable to feel anything, to distinguish anything, except that she must keep moving. This world is abstract. As she collects some of her memories and lights of strength (as I interpret), she reaches a familiar place. A broken piece of her mother’s palm in stone. As she reaches the first crescendo, she releases her first emotions: anger, and with that her world turns scarlet.

Anger, the second stage of grief, brings with it storms. Our emotions consistently get the better of us, and leave us sprawling in its wake. We react, we seethe, but we get nowhere. We get nowhere, until we are resilient. There is no option for us but to brave the storm of misery through a complex maze of loss and rage. During this time, the grief is still raw, and the pain hurts deeply. Anger exposes us. It is like a flaming red wound. The bleeding has stopped, but even tiny particles of dust falling on it, strike deep. The same is reflected in the game in the form of the first ability. As this grief strikes her through this phase, she is sent flying backwards, and she has to collect herself again and move ahead. As she progresses, she obtains a block form that can be used to smash through objects (express rage), as well as to avoid getting knocked over by the sandstorm (resilience). Aptly enough, the trophy “Sandstorm” (avoid getting knocked over by the storm) is also one of the more difficult achievements to complete. Overcoming anger takes effort, and that is reflected in this stage’s scarlet hue, the dust storm and the orchestral scream that accompanies it in the game. As she encounters another representation of her mother’s hands, this time in a caring stance, she experiences her crescendo, and with that she releases the colour green.

Green is one of the most charming phases of the game. It is the only stage where the character gains a companion and serves more than anything as a hand to hold in the difficult journey. The colours are soothing and the disappearing and morphing tree puzzles are quite entertaining. This stage of grief also brings with it its weaknesses, but the soft remembrances of a beloved memory lends a pleasing mirage. We are aware but we are also drifting in this magical forest, momentarily forgetting reality. Only when she comes across a statue of her mother and she tries to sing, but finds her voice absent, does she realize that she had simply been bargaining with reality. This stage of muffled cries and watery eyes is when we start dreaming. The battle against rage leaves us weak and we are looking for comfort. But do we get any? This weakness only acts as a shade; the moment reality peels it off, our monsters glare at us like the Sun on our faces. In this stage in the game, a massive bird appears in the game that wants to beat us down. Our misery strikes again, and even though we have resilience, we flee. In the game, the character must use the bird to move to the next stage.

By this time, we have spent all our energies in trying to deny the loss, react to it, trying to find a way to live in the past, and with that reality dawns on us. As it does, we are plunged into the ocean of despair, an underworld of depression. The game plays this section underwater, as well as giving the ability to swim underwater. It’s a really fascinating section of the game as the colour dominates this part and the stage is played in ice and water. One of the thoughts that I had while playing this stage was that in grief, the only way up is to go into the depths and encountering our feelings. We need to be real with ourselves. We cannot hide us from ourselves. As we delve deeper and deeper, we are both awestruck by the strength that lies dormant within us (represented in the game as a giant turtle) as well as terrified by the monster that lurks within waiting to devour us (the giant eel in the game). In the end, it our strengths that help us triumph over this unsurmountable darkness.

Once, we have broken free, we need lights to guide us back home. By the fourth crescendo, she releases the colour yellow. Through the darkness of the caverns that she had been plunged into, lights help her reach the surface. The demons still give chase, yet it is our strengths that come out as the victor. Dealing with depression takes time besides resolve. The doubts that had been sown into us by the grief act as impediments to find our true selves, but once we piece together the fragments of our resolve, they soon dissipate and we are thrust into the world that we had run away from. Only, this time, as we have the light of acceptance with us, the world has returned with all its colours.

With acceptance comes life. With life comes song. I cannot explain in mere words, the joy that erupts when the character rediscovers her voice and begins to sing. It reminded me of the feelings I experienced while playing Transistor. I might have spent a good fifteen minutes just listening to her sing before moving forward. Song brings life into this world. Flowers bloom and birds awaken. Accepting loss is the last stage of grief. It lets us be free again. We only have to finish the journey. As a stage in the game, it blends all previous abilities seamlessly into one stage. It never feels awkward, never feels out of place. The light puzzles are the main theme in this section and are unique to anything previously in the game. It is a joy to complete this section and experience the ending, which I will not be spoiling.

My favourite screen shot from the game

The above image is possibly my favourite screen shots from the game, in which, I have taken plenty. There is absolutely no screen where the art is anything short of mesmerising. But among them all, this simple frame of the girl looking over the edge amidst a blue rain, pausing before she takes the plunge is the most serene and painful images in the game. The silent moon behind, a lonely shrub, and the comfort of a shade behind. She could go back and take the stairs, but it felt almost an upheaval of anguish to simply jump. Simply jump and end it (you cannot die in this game). The portrayal of despair with a sordid decision to make was a poignant moment for me. Here too, I stayed for ten long minutes just watching the rain pour down before turning back and taking the stairs.

Gris cannot be judged or reviewed by staying within the confines of the common understanding of video games. It offers no challenges beyond some fairly light platforming puzzles that are without any consequence save repetition. It offers skill progression that is limited to four special abilities throughout the game. It does not have boss fights. It does not have an inventory, a journal, a quest log, missions, or even applauds if you do a stage flawlessly. It is unapologetically unlike any video game. The only reason it is a video game is because you get to play it. Instead, the game is all about an experience. It deals with a subject that is forever relevant to the human life in the form of the most delicate of tales: a girl loses her mother and must now deal with that loss. It presents it as a watercolour painting, using myriad colours and shades. The art is mesmerising even at its most minimal stages, and breath-taking in its full glory. The soundtrack composed by Berlinist is evocative, moving, and apt at all stages. Within this atmosphere, the gameplay is pleasingly slick, controls are smooth and mostly responsive. The animation is seamless and it blends in with the the game’s atmosphere and the backdrop without any jarring moments. The colour palette has an immense depth. Overall, Gris is a unique experience. It is one of those games that I am glad to have played; it is an important game in a world more aware of mental health and lends an unforgettable experience to the gamer.