The story behind the indie game, Peak, is simple enough. After crash landing onto an unknown island, you and your friends must climb to the top of a mountain peak where you can light a flare to be rescued. The salvation of you and your crew rests solely in the hands of this cute little blob with stubby arms, four fingers, and tremendous dexterity.
Throughout your climb you’ll encounter a head-spinning number of obstacles that range from annoying, like steep ledges, banana peels, to outright devastating (tornadoes… so many tornadoes 🙁).
But unlike most games, Peak is designed to be played in a single session. There’s no way to save your progress or reach a checkpoint. When you and your friends load into the game, you do so with the knowledge that you’ll either leave as heroes or a bag of bones. So when you accidentally hit that exploding mushroom halfway into your fourth attempt and are sent careening hundreds of meters down the side of a mountain, you can’t help but feel a bit of dread while your limp body floats through the air because it’s only then that you realize that all the blood, sweat and tears you’ve poured into the game (for the past two hours) have been for naught. Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.
Yet, as depressing as this sounds, Peak still shapes up to be one of the most delightful games of the year. Because as you’re playing it becomes clear that true bliss doesn’t arise from reaching the top, but rather from those interstitial moments between long climbs when you get to spend the most time with your friends. Much like a real hike, the game does an excellent job at manufacturing tiny, serendipitous points of connection.
And it’s vital that we remember how important those little moments are, especially in this increasingly busy world, where the tenuous connections between us become harder to nourish. So if you and your friends have a couple hours to spare one night, I’d suggest you download this dopey little game that reminds us that no obstacle is too great, no mountain peak is too daunting, if we can experience it alongside our climbing partners, our comrades, our day ones.
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