Edward McMillen's contraction of Zelda and Spiritual Abuse is sheer brilliance.
Formally, a 'roguelike' (for the uninitiated) is a sort of sub-genre of role-playing games whose main features are normally randomly generated levels and rooms (for infinite replayability), dungeon crawling and combat often paired with either character leveling or equipment upgrades, and permanent death. Desktop Dungeons, which McMillen (of Team Meat: Super Meat Boy) has referenced as an inspiration, is a great example of this sub-genre. In The Binding of Isaac, these three core features are prominent, as rooms and levels vary dramatically as you progress and upon repeated plays, upgrades and abilities are bought or won on your adventure, and when you die it's all over. Typically, a single game may take anywhere between 5 and 60 minutes, depending on your skill level, thoughI found 30 minutes to be about average (as I tended to die on the third level quite often!). The Binding of Isaac isn't your typical roguelike, however. In fact it's most obvious trait is it's narrative space which draws on deep psychological trauma foisted onto a young child as his mother (upon hearing the voice of God repeatedly) finally seeks to sacrifice him to her Lord (see: Bible, specifically the story of Abraham and Isaac). This trauma is figured not as the actions of a wise and benevolent patriarch, however, but as the ensuing action of a lonely mother watching too much daytime Christian broadcasting, from which she gains inspiration 'save' her son by stripping away his toys, locking him in his room, and eventually attempting to kill him. Isaac escapes, fortunately, through a trap door in his room and thus begins your adventure. While the tone of the game certainly involves much trauma hoisted at Christianity, the game doesn't set out to comment religiously. Instead, it stays its paces by unfolding a mind-bendingly rich subterranean world where mom's heels holds as much power as the crown of thorns, and where the tears of Isaac have become his main weapon. Insightful (or otherwise religiously-raised players) players will certainly find a lot of 'meat' thrown their way as the game deeply references Christianity (especially its puritan forms), but that The Binding of Isaac does so in a manner more phychological and even pathological than critical is what is so immersive about the experience.
Gameplay-wise, The Binding of Isaac takes some getting used to at first. Movement occurs via WASD keys and shooting tears (see: Link's arrows) are a mouse-click away. But it's the loose control scheme that will throw most people off at first. Isaac (and other unlockable characters) tend to glide around the rooms in a way that feels at times out of control. Move a tad, and you'll slide a tad more. As the vector of your tears responds to the physics of your body's movement, it takes some getting used to in order to feel like Isaac is responding as you'd like. Much of the rest of gameplay is also indebted to the original Zelda game: your health meter is governed by hearts, bombs blow up rocks, keys unlock doors, vendors sells items for coin, and secret weapon upgrades make all the difference. Each level also has a final boss fight, which tend to be challenging enough to make them thrilling (besides rather grotesque). The greatest joy of the game, however, is in the incredibly diverse and deep system of 'weapon' upgrades, ability evolutions, and other similar surprises. Their volume is immense making them great collectibles (which is incorporated onto the main menu system), but their uniqueness and impact is what makes them so pleasurable to nab. Pills of all kinds might sap your strength or alternatively boost your speed, or even shrink you down but give you a guiding angel as a companion. The devil might come to make you a deal (and save you perhaps on your deathbed) or you might discover your mother's bra (yes, plenty of Freudian pathology) which gives you special powers like an increased life meter, stronger projectiles, or a tumor as huge as your head which makes you shoot in sine-like waves. Their originality is a constant surprise, but their usefulness is paramount. Enemies definitely get tougher as you descend, and it's not a joke to say you can always die in any room if you're not careful, even at the beginning of the game. The wonder of accumulation and evolution, however, is always trumped by the sureness of death which brooks no saves or checkpoints. When you die, you bequeath all you own to your pet (and your collectibles list) and start your randomly-generated dungeon crawl all over again.
Aesthetically, The Binding of Isaac accomplishes exactly what it sets out to do: create a light-hearted but eerily haunting world of cartoony Zelda-esque religiously traumatic dungeon crawling to the tune of a forward-moving but reserved soundtrack that suits such visual strangeness. It's true. The design is both warm and friendly at the same time as horrific and weird, its charm had in the combination of the two opposing movements. More practically, the visual evolution of Isaac as he dons new items or injects new substances is a constant treat. Furthermore, there is almost always a great clarity to the events unfolding on the screen, which is critical in action that at time is much more SHMUP (shoot-'em-up) freneticism than relaxed contemplation. The musical score plays the second-fiddle perfectly, in such a way as to compliment the on-screen action without clouding it, and even at times accentuating the gravity of the unfolding events. With the growing sense among avid gamers that we may not always be getting what we have been promised in the big releases this year, it's refreshing to be given so much from such an unassuming game. The Binding of Isaac does a masterful job at contracting the haunted sense of spiritual abuse with, in a strange way, an homage to one of the foundational video games ever. Sloppy controls aside, there's more than enough value to be had here than you'd pay for. Indie games may have been a tad quieter in 2011 than in the previous year, but that doesn't mean there aren't a few which shine just as brightly.