How can I explain Proteus? Imagine Minecraft without the mining. Imagine Dear Esther without the progression. Imagine Journey without the storyline. After letting all of that sink in, you might get some kind of notion as to what Proteus is suppose to be.. My first time playing Proteus left me stunned. My jaw had actually dropped, and I found myself lost for words. Which is not the best way to find oneself when they have a review to write.
What fascinated me about Proteus was the sheer experimental nature of the game. Looking at the aforementioned games above, as far out and radical as they seemed, at least they had the basics of a game; progression, story and gameplay. Proteus has none of these. The only gameplay in the ‘game’ is moving, which can be done either by holding down the mouse button, or using the arrow keys. That’s it. You can’t click on something and see what it does, nor can you pick up items or interact with the environment. It’s like being a child in an antiques store who has been told not to touch anything and to go and sit in the corner. Ironically, if you press the spacebar, you can sit down in-game. A function I’m still not sure as to what benefit it holds.
What you do in Proteus is walk around a randomly generated island. This pixely-paradise plays host to a plethora of animals, plants along with other weird and wonderful secrets that the game lets you discover for yourself. And that is where Proteus really shines. It truly feels like you can do anything. With Minecraft, you feel like you must build a house before dark, and you have to build tools to get these resources. Not Proteus. In Proteus, your movement (and more importantly, your inactivity) generates music.
Depending on what you are observing on screen depends on what you hear out your speakers. Chasing magic rabbits, sitting calmly in a graveyard, or sharing a magical séance with a bunch of fireflies. It doesn’t matter what you do, so long as you enjoy doing it. That’s what Proteus seems to be saying. You constantly question if there’s something you should be doing, and if what you are doing is right. Eventually, you stop doing that and just enjoy Proteus for what it is: Nothing. And this is, unfortunately, as much a negative as it is a positive.
The problem this ‘nothingness’ crates is why play Proteus? The first time you play, you relish the unique experience that is playing a game in which nothing and everything happens simultaneously. Shooting stars dance through the sky, begging to be followed across the map, but when to take a step back and observe it, you see that there is little gain. I only played Proteus in 20 minute slots before it became too boring and I had to walk away.
The other question that arises is when would you play Proteus? If you’re anything like me, you have a backlog of games you picked up in Steam sales over the years that sit on your hard drive half played, or untouched. There’s not enough time in the day to sit down and think “I’d like to do nothing at all… In a game!” After these initial play throughs to review the game, I can’t imagine when I’d ever go back and play it, other than to show someone how weird the game is. I’ve heard some people say it’s a great game to “relieve stress”, but that isn’t true. If you’re stressed you want to do nothing, not do nothing by doing something. You want to lie in bed and listen to music, have a cigar and read a book, stroke a cat. Not hold your finger down on a mouse button and see what sounds come out of your computer.
It’s problems like these that make me glad I don’t have to provide a score for Proteus, because I honestly don’t know what I would give it. On the one hand, the game is as genre-busting as a Tarantino film, as interesting as a documentary on Tarantino films, and as experimental as… Well, you get the idea. On the other hand, the game has nothing to offer past its core concept. I’m glad the game is getting such good press, I really am, but I can’t help but feel like it’s something critics appreciate more than consumers. Which leads me nicely to…
Is It Worth Your Money?
No. No it isn’t. I got this game as a review copy, and this is why I am able to enjoy the ‘nothingness‘ I’ve been talking about. But if I paid for this? I don’t think so.
