PEGBRJE: Celeste
Tension in video games can take many forms. While they’re usually considered fun hobbies, that doesn’t take away from the fact that things can get heated. Miss a shot or a play, and you’ve created tension and stress for yourself. A teammate screws up at a crucial moment, tension forms quickly. Multiple entities approaching at rapid pace, and you’ve guessed it, tension. Games can thrive on this feeling, driving the player towards their goal with the hopes that the stress created will make the reward that much sweeter. I have a reputation for enjoying games that require an extremely stubborn attitude to finish, no matter the number of deaths or tries it takes. I like the challenge, the reward of the 100 deaths finally getting me that shiny object at the finish line.
It goes without saying, however, that I do have a certain group of games that builds tension just at the prospect of playing them, creating fear within my heart and sweat upon my palms. This leads me to this fact of life:
Celeste scares me, and for the first time in a while, I’m ok with that.
I’m no stranger to Celeste, unlike the past few game entries. Created by the now defunct Matt Makes Games, I’ve heard of this 2D platforming pixelated horror since its launch, with friends playing it and speedrunners performing terrifying feats of precision. I’ve seen art, heard pieces of the gorgeous soundtrack and avoided spoilers of the plot of Madeline the protagonist. All of this praise and acclaim, yet I avoided it like the plague for one reason only: it is a platformer.
I wish I could say that I hated platforming games, that would make this explanation easier, but in reality it’s more to do with the amount of stress and tension that platforming creates within me. Platforming is akin to championships in sports; I get nervous, tense, bug-eyed and my hands decide that they can suddenly wash themselves. This isn’t new, either, as ever since online flash games had platformers I’ve been afraid of the mechanic. The rigidity, the precision, and the looming threat of having to start over at the beginning due to a tiny mistake sends me into overdrive. After a zone, I’m cleaning down my controller and quitting the game out of pure anxiety.
Celeste got me to Area 3 before I took a break.
How? The symptoms of my platforming-phobia were all there, yet I was able to keep on persisting. I felt lost, yet also driven to keep on looking. Celeste managed to get me to commit to a platforming game and still feel the need to finish it, even if I get nervous just thinking about it.
I had heard rumblings of Celeste’s differences and accessibility, yet I didn’t get it until I played around with the settings and read up more. One of the game’s creators, Maddy Thorson, had made an entire twitter thread about all of the ways that Celeste attempted to be slightly more forgiving, even if I never noticed it.
The game even comes with an Assist Mode, allowing the player to alter many of the core settings of the game such as speed, infinite energy and more to allow them to continue the game. Celeste wasn’t just made to be a fantastic platformer, it was made to get people to experience it no matter their circumstance. They want you to follow Madeline on her journey while you attempt your own, even if that journey might be slightly easier than intended.
This barely scratches the surface of what makes Celeste a fantastic experience. The levels all seemingly have multiple exits, which beg me to go back and figure out their puzzle. Yet I never feel pressured that I’m going the wrong way, taking a wrong turn — I’m climbing a mountain with Madeline, and however I get to the top is the way to go. Mechanics are taught and instantly required in multiple unique ways, such as flinging yourself across a chasm via these weird elevator things to gain more momentum. Yes, I did freak out.
The serene atmosphere that has been crafted by the art and sound team just reinforces the idea of a personal journey with no need for timers. I’d heard of Lena Raine before, and her work on Celeste just solidifies its brilliance. The piano mimicking the snow as the synths play overtop to compliment the pixelated art style should never be ignored, and it builds and fades as you ascend this bleak mountain. Even areas that I knew would get me nervous, I can clearly remember the music softly playing in the background as if to calm me down. It didn’t work, but I appreciated the effort — the fact that I heard it instead of it getting drowned out in my own heartbeat is praise on its own.
I knew before that this blogpost would be intense, yet I never dreamed that I would actually enjoy the game to the capacity that I did. If you haven’t played Celeste, I’d easily recommend it for the accessibility and soundtrack alone. Yet it comes with so much more, and I don’t know how else to say it besides just play the darn game and see for yourself.
I will finish Celeste. This journey won’t end like the rest.
