Like any good masocore, most of the focus is around time trials and the post-game records reflect this. These challenge settings will also slightly modify your route: you can't double-back with the last two, and the electricity might mean going out of your way to hit a remote block early so you won't have to do so later on when it's more dangerous about. The game's masterstroke is how it presents its difficulty system: there are four tiers, and each of them subtly changes the dynamics of the platforms to make the level easier or tougher: on the easiest setting, you merely have to get close to the platform to activate it, and this includes hitting it with your head on the second setting, which is the default, you have to stand on a platform or touch it while sliding down its side to activate it on the third, platforms will vanish after a second or two upon leaving and there's no longer any checkpoints on the hardest, the platforms electrify instead of vanishing, and present a hazard if you need to get past them to more platforms. Part of the puzzle of these levels, then, is intuiting a route first and then executing on that course as quickly as possible. The goal of each of its stages is to hit every platform at least once, which are collectively framed as you fixing a ship by tinkering with its systems (it's not clear if these platforms represent programs inside a computer or something less abstract). Mobility is a pint-size masocore platformer that's sort of riffing on Super Meat Boy and N++ with its tight controls, minimalist look, and frequent emphasis on building and controlling momentum. I completed this puzzle in thirty seconds, but the sentiment's appreciated. The text below is a common Japanese proverb about perseverance: working hard on something for a long time before you can expect to see results. There's only five of these puzzles total, so the game's about ten minutes long if that, but it's a cute little thing that highlights the oddly rewarding calmness and determination that comes with rebuilding after a catastrophe, even if said catastrophe was as relatively minor as dropping a ceramic duck on the floor.
Easy to a fault - the game has the items fall apart in front of your eyes, so it's not like you won't know where all the pieces go - but with a deliberate sense of catharsis between its chill BGM and the Zen aphorisms that accompany each completed puzzle. A short, simple game that is functionally similar to a jigsaw, and perhaps more specifically to the glassware-themed Glass Masquerade, in that you simply assemble pieces of broken ceramics together so they fit in the right places, at which point the game fills in the gaps with gold resin to hold the new construct together. "The Japanese art of repairing broken ceramics with gold," or so its Itch.io page explains. That brings us, laboriously, to the point of this series: each of these entries will look at five games that will probably go unobserved by most as they'll understandably gravitate towards the established hits instead, and see if they're worthy of more attention.
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I've personally added about fifty new games to my " Indie Game of the Week" backlog - enough for an entire year of blogs, so look forward to those - but there's many more that were either too small or too weird for a full review. Needless to say, that's a lot, and many of us have been spending the past week or so gingerly picking through this heap of treasure for anything that piques our interest. Like many of you, I was fortunate and privileged enough to drop down some money for Itch.io's recent Bundle for Racial Justice and Equality: not only a worthy cause in aid of those protesting the murder of George Floyd and several others, but a cause that attracted an unprecedented number of contributors from larger, well-known Indie teams to passionate hobbyists: 1,391 contributors to be exact, who collectively put forward 1,704 video games, table-top rulesets, asset packs, and other media for charitable souls to enjoy.
IGotW Special: Indie Bundle of the Century: Part 1