Spent a very long time with it last night, my thoughts as follows (I couldn't help but gush at it a little, fair warning):
When I was younger my eyes crossed paths with an advertisement on the back of a game manual (I think it was on the back of the Metal Gear Solid NA release, if anyone can get a picture I will be eternally grateful) which depicted a tree obscured by a thick foggy haze, illuminated to almost white out condition by an overbright flashlight beam and surrounded by blurry snowflakes. It was such a striking image, powerful enough that it dug a small ditch into the back of my brain and planted a seed. From that seed grew the desire to come across this tree, approach it from the darkness and meet with my abstract friend. I often sat and wondered what it was about this scene that drew me towards it, analyzing all the small details about the image. At times I even considered learning how to code in an engine in order to recreate my trunked comrade, a lone map for me and only me that could put this twisted wonderland closer to reality than my imagination would allow. That seed had grown over the years into the tree from that ad and it rustled around on top of my brain. To this day I still find my obsession with this tree inexplicable, borderlining on irrational. But it has fueled a craving for a pure wandering experience in games and Proteus is the closest I will ever get to this fantasy.
Perhaps what Proteus does for me is equally as unexplainable as my bark-layered buddy. On its surface all it offers is a semi-randomized island that you can cross in a minute and a half with less graphical detail than a professional Quake 3 players maxFPS config. But to lean on such assumptions, to actually compare it as a whole against what most people consider games would be to miss the point. Proteus instead borrows from the Dear Esther camp of wandering aimlessly, albeit with more freedom and no weighty prose spouted by a suffering Englishman. It takes Minimalism to the extreme, stripping away any semblance of gamey elements in order to encourage pure exploration. Theres no goal at hand, no mission riddled with confusing dossiers to browse and no radio contact to fling objectives at you. Just you, the island and a few inhabitants which go about their lives as you drift from place to place.
Upon opening your eyes for the first time to the isle of Proteus, youre waist deep in sea water a little ways out from the shore. Deep but distant rumbling ambient drones soothe the senses and draw you into this dreamlike world. As foot touches to sand, the drones mix out into a cheerful little number, trees and nearby plants provide plucks of digitized instruments which layer effortlessly into the mix. The soundtrack is now much more structured, a song more along the lines of Brian Eno or Robert Richs works. You can choose to sit here and soak in the spring air some, or move until the scene fits your picturesque view. With everything framed differently, the song changes a little bit to reflect your distance from different parts of the scene. Moving elsewhere will give you new pieces of music every few feet you move, hand crafting sound through scenery. It calls to mind other music oriented games like Rez, but the lack of interaction and mechanics pushes it closer to Electroplankton.
When the night fell, everything now had a new tone, giving me more reason to explore under the stars glittery light. Serenity befell the island and the music illustrated this just as well as the gorgeous and ever changing pastel palette. Soon I discovered how to change seasons, which brought new wildlife to chase and an entirely fresh set of sounds with appropriately changed colors. There is an eventual end and a barely there something-or-other that isnt quite a plot. Most of what the island has to serve up is less for the upfront part of the mind and more towards imagination. Theres a nearly perfect synergy between exploration and feedback while just moving around which I can only compare to playing outside as a child and the innocent bliss such an activity provided. Once in a while, Proteus was able to get my jaw to dislodge from its grumpy and stubborn position and plant it firmly on the edge of my desk in awe. Thats just what kind of power it holds over those who the experience will appeal to.
Not everyone will find Proteus experience to their liking, preferring to spend their time with the usual gaming affairs. But Proteus succeeds in standing apart because it brings something fresh to the table, a relaxing trip you can truly lose yourself in so long as youre willing to let go of the fact that you have no jump button, no interaction button, and no things to shoot. It fills a void by being devoid, a bold statement drawing yet another line in the sand in the Games are Art! argument. Ill be returning to that island rather frequently I feel, seeing that my first run took me 4 hours when others blew through it in 40 minutes. Ill touch toe to shore again and again emerging from the sea, my soul burdened by the heft and stress of life now cleansed by Proteus zen-like journey. And I hold out hope that maybe, just maybe
Ill get to see my tree again.