User Review : Abzû

Deep Sea Diver

*NOTE: Since I have a couple criticisms aimed at late-game stuff, this review’s going to have SPOILERS. Nothing huge in regards to story but exercise your own discretion.*

One of the most valuable heirlooms recently unearthed by my dad and me was his old diving book. To think: a pamphlet-sized catalog of wonderful underwater adventures can lay buried beneath paraphernalia in some pickup truck for years despite its greater intrinsic worth. The value of it came from the noted discoveries. What did you see hiding in that old shipwreck? Did you see an octopus or something exotic out in the ocean? What was different in that night dive? ABZÛ harnesses that same yearning of aquatic discovery and systemizes it into a zen-like swimming simulator that I’ve never quite experienced before in games.

You play as an unnamed diver who’s awoken by some mysterious force. Charting through this ocean will showcase a Greatest Hits compilation of sea creatures as you revitalize it back to its former beauty.

While there is a structured story here, it’s often just treated as background; that’s to its added benefit by everything being told through actions and visuals. There are short cutscenes yet no dialogue nor text. Supplanting them are azure-and-gold painted pictographs strewn across the walls of sunken ruins. The collective story of a bygone civilization during a more stable time. ABZÛ has an eco-fantastical tale on its mind; one that observes industry marring the sea's biodiversity. Even the advancement to darker and darker locations subtly reinforces some kind of adversary ahead. This dual-in-nature storytelling means that you’re disinterring the larger narrative through both deciphering artefacts WITHIN the game and progression THROUGH it. The impact would be lost if either of these strands were to be taken away.

Structure also implies ABZÛ isn’t open-ended. There’s a series of moderately-sized aquariums segmented by tunnels and the occasional loading screen. While many “levels” keep the illusion up by being walled-off on all sides, the few instances that have the allure of exploring a vast sea are really fenced in by invisible walls. But by defying today’s expectations of crafting areas so large to the point of feeling devoid of much meaningful interaction, it’s able to make these individual zones feel packed with copious amounts of sea life (sometimes resulting in frame rate dips) and interesting occurrences, like sharks habitually eating fish that may be right in front of you.

The panoply of sea life here can’t help but be gawked over from time to time. There’s something so…specific about the animations, light, and look of everything that feels so right. The sea animals themselves walk this fine line between real life specificity and stylized angularity. Beyond the well-sculpted texture of the fish themselves, the multi-colored backgrounds can look rapturous as well. Whether it’s the underwater verdure, the soft sand, or the contrast of baby-blue rock formations surrounded and covered by pink coral, there’s clear signs of punctiliousness by the visual artists wanting to make each area look unique.

This kind of diligence also extends to how lighting was handled. Understand: it goes beyond these areas just being more or less dim than the last. How light interacts at different depths, different surfaces, and different vegetation all plays a part in how you’d see your surroundings. Take one of the earliest stages for example: a forest of kelp shooting to the top of the sea and cluttering it up to the point of having only a few openings. Crepuscular rays then filter through that kelp ceiling similar to what it would through the clouds. That bit of detail made the aquarium feel wholly different to other locales.

Complementing those visuals is a lush soundtrack composed by, no surprise here, Austin Wintory. The loud and upbeat nature when blazing through a slipstream current can be quite enthralling; however, I seem to be in the minority in criticizing how loud it can get across other sections, where it doesn’t seem to fit the tone. Sound design is satisfactory as well. The aural commotion when swimming through the middle of a two-hundred-fish tornado is enough to make you float there, doing nothing else but drink in the spectacle.

All of these auxiliary details wouldn’t amount to much if the gameplay wasn’t at least enjoyable; and considering gaming’s blotted history with underwater movement in general, this seemed like a tall order. Yet in regards to capturing the motions of diving ABZÛ is one of the best recent examples. There’s a sense of graceful gliding with the player-character helped by the intricate animations of him undulating and utilizing the long flippers to do the work. While the inverted up/down camera (default was the most comfortable to me) can sometimes fight with where you want to go, the fluidity does a great job of balancing between being underwater while also feeling agile like a typical video game character.

Since this is more in line with the “walking simulator/experience games” than a more traditional linear adventure, there isn’t a lot of game systems to juggle. Managing oxygen or health would be antithetical to the core design. Within each area there’s the necessary task of either finding a robot companion to destroy coral webbing impeding progression or hitting a couple levers to open a large gate; aside from that, there’s optional goals to open up magic pools that’ll spawn different wildlife into that contained ecosystem. Players can also meditate upon specific shark statues that’ll draw the camera away from the character and focus on a nearby creature—accommodatingly labeled like Grand Theft Auto does with its vehicles. Larger sea animals, be it fish, dolphin, giant squid, and more, can also be ridden by the player to their hearts content.

While all of these interactions seem limited, there’s one nifty example of game design here I must’ve done dozens of times that never got old. Akin to Mario’s triple jump, players have to carefully time hitting the X button in a rhythm to get a transient speed boost. Winding up this boost temporarily attracts all nearby aquatic life. When timed right, you can go fast enough for you and a plethora of fish, dolphins, etc. to breach out of the ocean in choreographed unison. It can be such a euphoric rush. The feeling of having temporary command of all marine life in close proximity—a la Aquaman—and shooting through that translucent ceiling with dozens of companions by your side is one of the most unique displays of empowerment from any game released this year.

Yet with the game’s biggest positive also comes its drawbacks. While the majority of ABZÛ’s laid-back approach makes it easy to ignore the disagreements one might have with the camera and one’s intended positioning, it becomes a lot more frustrating when specificity and these pyramidal shock-mines are brought up towards the end. Get within a certain proximity of them and you’re temporarily stunned. There’s one whole room cluttered with them to an absurd degree: one instance of getting too close can result in getting zapped over and over and over again. There’s also last-minute Tomb Raiding thrown in for some sanctuary that mysteriously isn’t filled with water. The environment’s nice. Lavish peristyles and exquisite marble are just some of the impressive qualities of this area, but I just don’t see how it served any mechanical purpose.

With all that’s said, ABZÛ still walks that fine line of me asking what qualified as ‘enough’ meaningful interaction. While I truly enjoyed the sensation of breaching the ocean at max speed, there’s still something about the pace and scripted nature that’d butt heads sometimes. That’s not speaking of the current tunnels. The slipstream sections of speeding along with schools of fish, the uplifting score booming in the background, than debouching to the open aquariums felt exhilarating. But it’s in those select scripted sequences the game seems content with pushing you along rather than reveling in the awesome sights just experienced.

The brisk pace wouldn’t seem as bothersome if completion time wasn’t so short either. My first playthrough netted me roughly two-and-a-half hours after the credits rolled. While I’ve defended several short games in the past—and stand by my words in those cases, it all comes back to its conflicting design here. Here’s what’s supposed to be a meditative experience where the more scripted sequences the developer has complete control over push you to the next event rather than build a resounding crescendo. There’s also the issue of replay value being heavily dependent upon each person’s personal view. For me: there’s something about the captivating beauty and distinctive setting that could make this my temporary go-to whenever I want to chill. But if one’s looking for something more substantial in respect to gameplay or narrative? The simplistic nature of both may deem the twenty dollar price tag a bit too high for you.

As a pastiche of thatgamecompany’s design philosophy in flower and Journey, ABZÛ certainly feels like a moderate success. Considering the art director of those two games (along with several other expatriates under the new development team Giant Squid) is behind this one, it’s a successful adaptation. The aural sensation of being underwater is adequate, yet the orchestral soundtrack can be a bit excessive. It has evocative moments that—unfortunately—can’t quite capture them as well as it could. There’s a lot of plusses when considering it as an aural-visual experience similar to many other excellent art games, but some design qualms squander it from reaching the same heights.

If you disregard expectations of what the deceptively open sea initially promises, it’ll elicit similar sensations to what I felt upon reading my dad’s diving log: wonder and awe over this delicate, majestic ecosystem teeming with life around every corner.

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