Do bees go to Limbo?

Blasphemy!

It might sound like a strange question, but: How is the 2013 game DmC: Devil May Cry like a bee?

And let’s put aside the whole DmC remake vs. Devil May Cry originals debate and just focus on this bee thing — I think this bee thing is really demanding our full attention.

Apparently, bees can see different colors than we can. Bees can’t see red, but in exchange, they can see ultraviolet light. Some photographers try to simulate what bees see and it can look completely alien. There’s this entirely different world that we can’t see, but bees? Bees can.

The idea that there are things we can’t perceive surrounding us and our daily lives is a huge, possibly essential idea in DmC. That’s because, in DmC, there are two worlds: the land of the living, aka our world, and Limbo, land of bees.

Although Limbo is technically a different space from the land of the living, one can influence the other, and some agents, like Dante (our playable character) and certain demons, can move between the two like a pinball bouncing between bumpers. The two realms are not completely separate, because you can see silhouettes of the people outside of Limbo, who are standing on the same street you are but just out of reach.

People as seen in Limbo

There’s a good amount of thought and detail put into the idea of Limbo as it appears in DmC, and some of the locations are just plain cool, like a prison that’s completely-upside because it’s a reflection of the original building in water.

In contrast, there’s the land of the living, which is extremely bland and severely muted. Even in terms of story, the real world is a boring place used for exposition dumps and setting up the eventual cut to Limbo.

Even more interesting than its design is how Limbo feels like a character, right beside the main cast, perhaps even more bombastic and likable than any of the main cast.

Unlike most settings, it isn’t static, and it has so much personality. It’s crabby, it’s childish, it’s mean, and it hates Dante a lot. Compared to the land of the living, it feels alive, ironically. Listen to me, I sound like I’m waxing poetry about it.

Limbo is lovely,
you should really go there soon.
Bright, vibrant, alive.

Limbo will even speak directly to Dante, with friendly little messages meant to encourage the player.

Limbo is a very welcoming place

And that attitude is shown in its movements. Limbo will block the way when you run up, it’ll crush the alleyway like a tin can with you inside, or it will completely decimate the path you’re on because it’s petulant and it hates you.

Get past this, Dante

If this game only took place in the world of the living, it would be worse for it. Especially considering that the game has been done before, with, in my opinion, stronger stories and more endearing characters. That’s why Limbo is that one essential thing for DmC.

If I had to make up an answer for the dumb question I asked, which I do, I’d say DmC is like a bee because it explores a world we don’t spare much thought for, even though it’s right under our noses. Although DmC is kinder than a bee, considering it shares that colorful world with us.

Do bees go to Limbo? I hope not.

Sources: https://www.beeculture.com/bees-see-matters/

It’s a big desert

What are the chances?

There’s this elusive idea of a perfect game. The 10/10. In reality, the decision is completely subjective. It entirely depends on where you were when you first played it, what you were doing, how old you were, and so on. Every aspect of your life that bled into the game or made it personable to you influences a hidden nostalgia meter that can sway a perfect rating.

But I’ve found that perfect game, and I’ve found it in Journey.

If you haven’t played it: Journey is a relatively short game, something you can bang out in just one session, but what it lacks in length it packs in clarity and atmosphere. The substance of the game isn’t about telling the player what to do but rather evoking a feeling in the player.

A great example of this is 3 minutes in: instead of telling the player to head towards the mountain to progress, the game simply focuses on the mountain looming in the distance. For the next few levels, the mountain is constantly present, and curious players are drawn to it naturally without needing a push.

In fact, putting the effect of the game into words feels like an injustice. Considering the game itself is totally textless, (except for the title card), I’ve become an unreliable translator trying to decipher the wordless emotions into their natural enemy.

In the end, this is what led me to my choice for that one essential thing that makes Journey different from others like it. That one thing is the multiplayer element. In a game made of diamonds, why does the multiplayer–which is completely unessential for finishing the game–shine brightest?

As I mentioned, Journey is a completely wordless game, which extends to conversations between players. The only tool you could use for communication isn’t made for communication: you can let out a chime, which is used to gather scarves to refill your glide. Unless you both know morse code, there’s not much to be said with it.

The chime in action.

The game encourages you to stay close to a second player in a couple small ways. One way is that it’ll direct you towards another player with a white blur on the screen. If you can see the other player, the blur isn’t there, but the moment the player leaves your sight, the blur will point you in their direction. In this way, the game is shepherding you two together.

Another way the game pushes two players together is by rewarding proximity: if they’re standing close to each other, the players’ glide ability is recharged. This means if you stay close enough, you can fly forever.

I went through the whole game with this player and we got pretty good at it.

You don’t know when another player will drop into your game, but their presence changes the experience greatly. Moving through different environments, helping each other find hidden symbols or fly, the inability to speak makes every person you meet infinitely charming because they don’t ruin it with words. You’re like two ships passing in the night, and in my experience, you become attached to each other fairly quickly. I’m always sad to see them go.

This tender, wordless companionship is what really makes the game fantastic in my eyes, and without it, the experience wouldn’t be nearly the same.

Similar games: GRIS and ABZU