Closure Review

Unimaginable horrors hide in the darkness. Is there a monster lurking just out of sight? Or maybe a deadly trap poised to cut you to shreds? In Closure, such conventional fears never surface. Rather, it's the darkness itself that poses the biggest threat. To step off the lightened path into the gaping, black abyss is to know death up close and personal. One misstep and you're swallowed whole. The rules defy the very basics of reality, opening the door for a diverse assortment of puzzling rooms that leave you gasping at their sheer inventiveness. Death greets you when light fades away, and it's through this dynamic that Closure establishes itself as a smart and perplexing puzzler.

Four legs, two arms, one horn. It's a creature that should stay out of view from prying eyes, in the shelter of the darkness. Despite its off-putting appearance, this is not a beast to be feared: it's the protagonist. Walking with crablike grace, it picks its way through the blackened wasteland. It's scared of the dark, and rightfully so. Though it doesn't utter a word, there's a jarring humanness to its movement. When it makes a mistake, it shrugs, a creepy caricature of human reaction to failure. Jump into one of the four worlds, and you don a mask, hiding the alien body underneath. These superficial changes make your character look human, though you're never secure in this assessment. Unnerving imagery hides in the darkness. A lighted gazebo populated by all manner of deranged beings bursts into view when you least expect it, exposing the weird underbelly of this desolate world.

The sparse narrative threads hint at a larger story, though the details of your predicament are never explored. This trend begins in the introductory levels. Nudges push you in the right direction, but Closure avoids spelling out exactly what the rules entail. You learn for yourself, through experimentation, so you understand the underlying mechanics because you discovered them yourself, rather than having them told to you.

You stand in utter blackness. At your feet lies a sphere of light. It emits a radiant glow that hints at safety, peace. However, the darkness ahead, behind, above, below you is anything but. A prompt urges you to pick up this light source. You cradle it in your arms and walk forward. The path lights up. Where once only darkness existed, now there's light and solid ground to walk upon. Behind you, darkness swallows what used to be a safe path. Behind you, there's only death. So you walk forward, shining the light to slowly reveal the path before you.

Just don't shatter your only light source.

Closure is built upon the relationship of light and darkness. Anything that's visible becomes tangible. Ground and walls materialize in your view, transforming into sturdy objects that you can interact with. When the light fades away, those same constructions cease to exist. Walk across a lighted patch of ground, and no danger troubles you. Step on that same place without the protective aura of a light, and you fall into a pitch-black gulf. It's a surreal concept that turns its nose up at the most basic ideas that form your own perception of reality. Coming to terms with the rules requires you to relax any stubborn attachment you have to the nature of existence.

Your objective is straightforward: find the door that transports you to the next level. But getting to the door isn't always enough to move onward. You might need a special key to get inside. No light is emitted from these objects, so you have to improvise. Shine a beam of light on the ground so you can carry the key to the door, or juggle a light source to keep the key away from the darkness. If it falls into the inky abyss, you fail the level, so tread carefully.