The collector in you may wish to explore the lands you encounter but, again, I couldn’t really find much worth in doing so other than for light shards, which soon became a tiresome exercise. I must have gathered roughly 130 by the time the game ended and it has zero impact on the outcome of the story. However, this is a quickly discarded aspect of the game as, other than trophies, there is really no incentive to collecting the light shards at all. Initially, The First Tree does guide you toward collecting shards of light, implying that these will help you towards the titular First Tree. Every level did suffer from environmental clipping issues, but thankfully these aren’t bad enough to take you out of the world, nor to be distracted from the wonderful colours that filled every scene. Spread across five levels and an epilogue, each new land was a treat although the first time I entered a new level, going from snow-covered inclines to a more summery forest was a bit jarring when I was trotting about and then suddenly hit with a loading screen. It would be a disservice not to talk about the visuals because The First Tree is, frankly, gorgeous to look at. I moved forward and surveyed the area, taking a few moments to really drink in the blue and purple hues cast over the winter horizon. The First Tree briefly displayed its controls, which were not much more than movement and jumping, before leaving me to my own devices. This is accompanied by Joseph, the narrator and second driving narrative of the game, talking at length with another character, Rachel, as he looks to reconnect with his father in Alaska.Īs the game began, I found myself, in fox form, alone on a snowy mountain. In this third-person tale, we take our vixen through five different seasonal lands on an introspective journey towards the First Tree and reunite with her three lost cubs after waking up to find them all missing.
The First Tree, written, directed, and developed by David Wehle, takes you through a significantly less stressful dreamscape, guided by, in this instance, a fox. For better or worse, dreams have a way of sticking with you.
Or it’s me and my damn teeth crumbling to dust. Other times a jumbled assortment of the days thoughts, scrambled together by a weary brain attempting to digest it all.
Often they are absurd, incoherent images.
0 kommentar(er)
