Rating Curve

I don't know exactly why it is that I stubbornly refuse to rate things without also reviewing them on this site. Hyperbolus's 20-character requirement is long gone, and it's not a policy that I abide by on RYM or any other rating platform. I guess I've just always wanted to have something interesting to say here; I haven't gotten around to rating or reviewing Well Rested even though I'm fairly certain of the score I'd give it, and the absence of anything to do with Crossroads on my profile page here is even more glaring - I've long held it as a landmark of the game to the point where, if not for the slightly more legendary Sculptures, I'd have recognized it as 2022's best level. Some aspects of Crossroads are obvious - incredibly charming animations, unbelievable lushness in colors and melody, satisfaction in tactile patterns. Still, I've only begun to fully appreciate Crossroads, and thus feel comfortable with the idea of reviewing it, since the beginning of this year when I committed myself to drastically increasing the number of films I watched. Weird, right? Crossroads isn't a particularly cinematic experience, and nowhere does it suffer from being preferable as a viewing experience; In fact, the tactile element probably contributes far more to Crossroads than the average level. It's really only two films that have significantly changed my perception of Crossroads. Mulholland Dr. (2001) was the first. Obviously, I won't be spoiling the plot, but I will say that it's a very dramatic, human-centric narrative presented in a way that can be difficult to parse. I've long loved certain films (and other artistic mediums) that aren't strictly representational and are up for interpretation, but I had never been exposed to anything so expressionist at every turn. For a long time I was convinced that there would be some moment of realization where I "got" Crossroads, but years later it hasn't come. Which is fine! The most satisfying way to consume art often isn't to pursue and extract "meaning", or the "idea", and it was on my second viewing of Mulholland Dr. where I really became comfortable with the way I, as a viewer, contributed to my own experiences with art. I'm not convinced that crossroads has a coherent narrative, but it's certainly about something - there are human experiences portrayed in it. My interpretation is that it's a curious, sentimental celebration of the directionlessness of modern living and the chance encounters such ambiguity can create. You go through the everyday motions of repetitive, invisible gameplay as visual sequences portray elements of normalcy - traffic lights, trains and road signs play into an overarching motif of transportation, but it's more important that those and countless others like mountains, balloons, or faucets absolutely worship mundanity. It can't be overstated how massive the world of Crossroads is both physically and spiritually, it does a fantastic job establishing the miniscule space you occupy in the massive societal web we've constructed. That I began to consciously consider this is thanks to the second film that encouraged me to write this, PlayTime (1967). PlayTime's a zoomed-out, satirical look at the impersonal, confusing, megalophobia-inducing character of modern Paris that throws its citizens into all sorts of bizarre and illogical situations. Though Crossroads is a tad more optimistic about the personal merits of such a daunting setting, they're united in their blurry, uncalculated portrayal of modern (particularly urban) living, and in the overt Frenchness of their aesthetics. However, Crossroads branches off (ha) in its final third, when the true complexity of the connections of life is revealed. It's a breathtaking moment that shatters the expectations set by Crossroads's first half, both visually and gameplay-wise. You bask and revel in the people and moments that make up the most important parts of life. If the repetition-based parts of Crossroads portray aimless hustle and bustle, these rooty visuals and calculated, personal clicks show the big gathering when everyone has a day off, if that makes sense - the realization of the crossroads between every person's journey through life. I will say that I think it would have been nice both accessibility-wise and tonally if the gameplay objects became more visible here, it would have been pretty sentimental, like a sudden burst of clarity. Either way, Crossroads continues to impress as it pushes past this grandeur with a beautiful, blazing final dash adorned with inanimate simulacra, perhaps life's memories or mental relics. Just a perfect cap off to a wondrous journey through the human experience, and a final triumph for one of the game's most significant levels. Any level half as beautiful and life-affirming would get my stamp of approval.

Good enough for a chuckle the first time around, but it's ultimately a failure not because it's too distasteful but because it's not nearly as provocative as you'd hope being down here - that WK had to make a bunch of alts just to ensure it stayed poorly-rated is a testament to this level's lack of intrinsic staying power. If he'd have written "PAHC is a faggot" or something, the exercise would be a little less worthless.

A total failure of a parody, considering that the earnestly-created visual design and song are far more offensive than the gameplay. Maybe that makes it even more of a success in being provocative for some people, but I'm a little too cynical to agree.

Some tiresome attempts at Hype Moments and Aura couldn't save Dash from feeling like nothing more than formality, like a teacher taking attendance at the school of 2.2 features with how thoughtless it feels every time one makes its presence known before disappearing so that the next one can play without any correspondence with the soundtrack or visual design. Feels like a tech demo that would be much more suitable for inclusion in one of GD's side games, especially considering just how reliant 90% of the visuals are on a limited selection of tile blocks and animated objects, and how incoherent the gameplay can get despite not attempting to be memory-oriented in the slightest.

Post-1.9 RobTop level. Unlistenable song, ugly colors and tileset, inoffensive layout. Could copy-paste these for every main level past ToE 2 but it would look weird on my profile page.

Deadlocked's frenetic player movements and intentionally-tedious moving obstacles do a fine job selling the idea of the base game's hardest level, but every other aspect of the level and its soundtrack are annoying yet pathetic, like a chihuahua barking and baring its fangs. Visually, the modern RobTop style is as boring yet garish as ever.

The beginning of the end. A few cool ideas like the awesome blackout section can't salvage how repulsively cheap this candy-coated World 1-1 style feels. So little left to the imagination, yet so unfocused and unmemorable. The ham-fisted, gimmicky introduction of the move and touch triggers isn't helping anything either.

It's a bit unfortunate that I'm firmly in the "Deadlocked is harder" camp, because Theory of Everything 2 is so much more convincing at being the ultimate challenge. Rob struck a brilliant balance between physical and mental intimidation with drastic swings between a bright, stark landscape littered with harsh timings and the more muted memory sections, which are often so overwhelming in their illusions of choice that attempting to traverse them feels futile even well after the correct sequence has been intuited. While practicing, this duality feels impossible to overcome. Once mastered, the two styles provide valuable moments of respite in between each other. It is this requirement of mastering both body and mind that makes Theory of Everything 2 so invigorating to play - every second surviving is a triumph, understanding is a conquest with how cerebral yet aggressive every aspect of the level and its soundtrack are. Probably the last great RobTop level.

Pretty neat aesthetically - the 1.9 deco blocks and metallic coating make for a pretty cool future-industry setting, and I love how the complete lack of speed changes radiates an air of uncaring monotony as though the level's constructed on an assembly line. Unfortunately, that tedium is a lot less charming coming from the layout - a handful of parts are a bit dull, especially the terrible second wave that I can't even handwave away as a tutorial, as it's easier than the first wave. Did we really have to save the introduction of the mini wave for ToE II?

While not as forgettable as something like Theory of Everything, Hexagon Force still suffers from pretty careless use of new designs that creates an incredibly incoherent landscape that usually doesn't look particularly good - some of those color combinations are just so gaudy, and a lot of these overly-calculated block designs feel like they should be on a tie in muted colors. It comes across as super light and casual, and the soundtrack and balanced difficulty certainly aren't doing it any favors in that regard.