Playing The Last Guardian (2016) was a challenge in patience—through its controls and interactions with a giant beast—that, in the end, was a journey that I needed to experience. Director and auteur Fumito Ueda, known for being the creator and director of two cult classics, Ico (2001) and Shadow of the Colossus (2005), has a unique style and approach that has fascinated players and game designers over the years. His approach to design, which he has referred to as “design by subtraction”, is wholly minimal. Especially in the game Ico, where there’s a lack of traditional game features like health bars, and tutorials. These ideals of minimal design filtered into his second game, and was refined for his third. Another aspect that connects all three games is the exploration of relationships. These relationships evolve around how a player and game character can connect on a deeper level. The Last Guardian, as a spiritual successor to his other two titles, effectively continues Ueda’s design of subtraction and exploration of relationships—this time between a small boy and giant beast named Trico—through its gameplay, artistic aesthetic choices, and story development.
The story focuses, on a minimal level, about a relationship between a boy and a beast he meets named Trico. You play as the young boy, narrated by an older version of himself, waking up in a cave, covered in mysterious tattoos, next to a large beast in damaged armor and pierced by spears. When the beast gains consciousness, you have to learn how to gain his trust, communicate with him, and find barrels of food for him to eat. Your relationship with this beast is vital. As the story progresses, you help each other solve puzzles, traverse old ruins, and find answers. With such a simple story, that avoids mostly all unnecessary details, it is full of depth and meaning that other games have a harder time achieving. Without the extreme complexities of an epic story, this game allowed me to immerse myself into the interactions of the boy and Trico at a level that I feel isn’t achievable by a grand narrative. Though simple, the relationship is the focus of this story.
This is similar similar to Ueda’s other games, where, in the case of Ico, you work with a girl to escape a castle, and in Shadow of the Colossus, all your actions are motivated by saving a girl while being accompanied by your horse Aggro. Trico appears to be the development upon the last game, refining upon the relationship that is formed between player and the horse. The design of Trico is like man’s best friend, resembling a plethora of animals—face of a dog, feathers like a bird, plays with barrels like a cat—which makes him easily loveable, and realistic. The realism of the connection between player and animal is portrayed deeply and I grew to really love Trico as a living creature. I began to worry about his safety, and felt safe relying upon him.
The visual aesthetic encompassing the whole game has a mix between realism, stylized features, and a dull color scheme that is similar to Ueda’s other games. Trico, as mentioned in the paragraph before, looks almost perfectly realistic. Looking into his eyes feels like looking into an actual animal’s eyes. The realism of Trico helps to enhance the immersion of the player by persuading, visually, that he is a real living beast. I was even shocked at one moment to notice that he had a butthole. On the other hand, the boy you control feels more cartoony, and his white cloak makes him stick out. There were times that I was uncomfortable about how he didn’t fit into his environment, which was lush and realistic with different foliage growing out of the ruins. The lack of realism for the boy bothered me near the beginning, but it grew on me as the game progressed. The overall artistic style of the graphics was stunning. I found myself taking in the large outdoor environments, and watching the the water reflect light. It is a game that wants you to visually appreciate it. I felt like it was a real world.
After being visually persuaded of that the relationship is plausible, it developed deeper through mechanics and gameplay. You, as the boy, have to pull out the spears that are in Trico’s body. You, as the boy, have to feed him. In return, Trico learns to work with you and your journey becomes easier. Having to literally work together, and keep each other safe through the progression of the game made me feel more connected to this giant beast. This continues the theme of relationships within Ueda’s games. It can be as simple as patting Trico’s nose as he bends down to look at you, to the more dramatic moments where Trico just barely catches you before you fall to your death. By the end of the game, I had a connection with this beast, through the eyes of a small boy.
Now, I did struggle with controls. The character feels awkward, just like any uncoordinated young man feels, which helps add to the contrast of epic proportions next to the beast, but player character relations become muddy because of muddy controls. I would argue that immersing a player to feel more as the character is admirable, but, especially when I was trying to get off the beast, took me out of the experience because I was frustrated. I could sometimes project this frustration into the emotions of the boy, but it generally meant I had to take a breather and go back to the game. Most of these frustrations were solved once I learned how to work the controls better and how Trico responded to my actions. To make things even harder though, the camera was difficult to control, especially in tight areas, which is common while going through the insides of the ruins. Though the controls were a struggle, I found it to not negatively detract from my enjoyment of the game.
Most of the gameplay was focused on puzzles and were designed around the strengths and weaknesses of the boy and Trico. Many tiny holes to crawl in, high places that can’t be reached, and the sorts. This focus on puzzles, rather than fighting enemies, brings up the ideals of “design by subtraction” that Ueda talks about. With a focus on the relationship of Trico and the boy being the core element of the game, the boy fighting enemies is unnecessary. These quieter puzzles contrasted well against the moments of high emotion that frequented the game. Jumping from a high place, barely missing Trico, and then catching his tail, is exhilarating. These were the moments that I lived for. Stripping the game of unnecessary gameplay allowed a deeper exploration into what I found most intriguing: the boy and Trico.
When there are enemies, and fighting was necessary, Trico was the one to get the job done. These enemies have an unseen motive, chase after the boy, catch him, and drag him to a creepy door. To get out of their clutches, you have to mash all the buttons on your controller, which, for me, created a frantic feeling. There was many a time that I was trying to get a door open for Trico, and I would run back and forth in a room trying to avoid these awkward enemis and get to the switch. When Trico was eventually able to fight them off, I would have to calm him down. This immersed me into the game, and is my favorite feature. Putting me into a situation of high pressure increased my need to be saved, and deepened my feelings toward Trico when he was able to do so.
Lastly, the soundtrack, composed by Takeshi Furukawa, is a refreshing blend of large orchestra and intimate chamber music that helps to enhance the atmosphere within the game. The instruments are a mix of strings, piano, choir voices, brass, multiple solo clarinets that thematically plays throughout the game. The music did a great job of emphasizing the mood of a scene, or an action sequence. Gentle strings play while walking through woods, and the solo clarinet, which seems to be used motivically for the boy, gracefully plays its melodies. As a listener, these moments were mystical and lingering. It helped me, as a player, feel the experience of the small boy. Contrasting these quieter and peaceful moments with the roaring orchestra and brass that play during action sequences made my heart race. Like mentioned before, when barely grabbing onto Trico’s tail, the music heightens the emotions felt through the game. The soundtrack, I felt, effectively portrayed the correct emotions that increased the pleasure of playability.
With all the elements of the game put together, and the effective outcome, The Last Guardian is a necessary title to play. Ueda, as a game designer, has made games that affect designers of our futures and he didn’t hold back. With its focus on relationships, creating a thoroughly aesthetic journey, this game will probably inspire other great creators to make better games that have a lasting meaning to players. I highly recommend this game to anyone who enjoys games as a story medium, but those who enjoy games for difficulty will probably find it more frustrating than challenging. Even if you don’t usually play these kinds of game, I implore trying one play through, and seeing why it is you need to experience this marvelous game.