Machinarium
Imagine an idyllic, unhurried childhood, full of curiosity and quiet adventure. Set that childhood in a decaying city of robots, and you have Machinarium, which serves up its post-apocalyptic junkyard style with whimsy, tranquility, and some good puzzles, too.
The game begins with a giant mechanical cuttlefish lazily crossing the sky to dump the components of the main character onto a junk heap. After the robot is reassembled, he ambles off in the only direction available-towards the city. There, the quest is made clear, and through a combination of curiosity, kindness, and cleverness, the little underdog robot sets wrongs to right and saves the day.
As it turns out, the pace of the Completely Unbothered Giant Flying Mechanical CuttlefishTM, a good solid mosey, is indicative of the pace of the game as a whole. It’s so relaxed, in fact, that the only time-sensitive puzzle in the game comes as a minor shock. The lack of hurry, however, only enhances the ethereal quality of the game, allowing for the space to poke around and indulge curiosity, like a child unconcerned with the passage of time.
The relaxed pace also provides an opportunity to soak in the atmosphere of the game, which is visually equivalent to stepping into a beautifully illustrated children’s book. The palette is muted and rusty, and the art has a hand-painted appearance: slightly uneven, rounded, and personal.
But if it is the art that draws you in, it is the sound that ties the whole world together. From the scratch of chalk on a chalkboard that ushers in the title to the clanking of little robot feet on the ladders, the score is pitch perfect. Everything sounds as spot on as it is supposed to sound, from the scrape of a robot bum sliding down a banister to the splash of water in a fountain. The auditory feedback in this game is deeply, intensely satisfying; the sound equivalent of a heavy physical lever in a plastic-button touch-screen world.
The soundtrack is all the more noticeable for the lack of words. Beyond a short tutorial in the beginning, where words are scribbled briefly on the screen, and the labels in the menu, there are no words in Machinarium. Information is communicated largely through animated cut scenes, representing the characters’ thoughts or the conversations between characters. The primary-school sketchy style of these animations lends the characters an even more endearing, childlike quality that is reinforced by the undeniably cute noises they make.
The puzzles in Machinarium fall into two sets. The first set involves manipulating things within the world, such as repairing items for other characters or physically creating the way to move from area to area. In the second set are mini-puzzles, often set within locks on doors and other control surfaces. Additionally, there are some retro arcade-style games thrown in for good measure. The puzzles are a good mix of fun and impossible, and most are creative and clever. The only problem is that sometimes it is very difficult to ascertain what the puzzle is supposed to be, what action one ought to be taking, or what actions are even possible.
The difficulty in locating a puzzle, however, is fleeting, and even the lack of a pause function is only a passing irritation. For a game with some intensely cerebral puzzles, Machinarium is an enormous dose of calm. The lack of urgency in the game seeps into your bones and before you know it you’re just enjoying a highly innovative ride through a beautifully detailed world filled with winsome robots. I fervently hope there’s a sequel.
