#game Review - Journey
Journey, developed by thatgamecompany and released by Chen Xinghan in 2013, is a game I only fully experienced for the first time in 2023, a decade later. I deeply felt that no matter how technology advances, the emotions conveyed by a game never become outdated.
At the very beginning, I was a small figure in a red robe walking through an endless desert, not knowing where to go or what to do, until I saw the sacred light atop a divine mountain. I followed it, continuously traversing drastically changing landscapes and seasons—from the abyss underground, to temples suspended in mid-air, and finally to a snow-covered mountain battered by fierce winds and storms. The only thing I could do was to “keep walking” through this vast, uninhabited natural realm, constantly crossing dangers, experiencing flight and fall, heading toward an unknown destination. In this world, there is no language, no enemies, no faces, identities, or distinctions between people—only the infinite beauty of nature and the lonely, tiny “self.” My journey relied solely on the flowing scarf behind me that could absorb runes; this was the game’s only mechanic—holding the right mouse button, I would emit sound, resonate, absorb runes, and gain power; holding the left mouse button, I would jump, fly, and release that power. After using all the runes around me, they would return one by one to the monuments, and I would not take any fragments away. Such a simple mechanic made the meaning of this journey transcend language and text; only by focusing and immersing oneself in every movement and rhythm of the game can one truly grasp the complex and genuine human emotions carried by this voyage.
Because of this, what amazed me most about *Journey* was how it demonstrated that without any words or dialogue, returning to the core of “play” in games can still tell a compelling story—simply by constructing an emotional experience that follows a dramatic structure of “introduction - disruption - climax.” Beyond narrative function, the game’s audiovisual elements, interaction methods, system, and level design are sufficient to build an “emotional journey.” For example, different terrains and environmental colors symbolize rising or falling moods, moving from the warm yellow temple to the cold, desolate snowy mountain; the music changes accurately convey emotions, like sliding down dunes and falling into valleys, shifting from bright and lively to somber and solemn. From a gameplay perspective, players must master the “collect-release” rune mechanic to its fullest during the long trek to achieve farther and higher spatial leaps to reach the next destination. As levels progress, this mechanic evolves richly—calling ribbons on the ground to repair broken bridges, then freeing flocks of rune dragons in towers who accompany and guide the player forward. With this core design, whether falling into valleys or flying toward snowy peaks, the game controls the player’s emotional ups and downs, allowing profound experiences as long as one is fully “mind and body united.” To me, *Journey* proves the decisive role of the IPMT (Introduce-Practice-Master-Transfer) mechanic design principle in endowing players with emotional experience.
However, Journey’s design goes even further. Just when I believed I would complete the journey alone, another small figure in a red robe with a flowing scarf—faceless like me—suddenly appeared. This companion moved close to me, sometimes ahead, sometimes behind, continuously sending resonance signals. At that moment, all the accumulated loneliness and confusion burst forth without reservation, transforming into a spiritual connection with them. Unfortunately, I soon lost them, until on the final snowy mountain path against the wind, they reappeared, walking closely beside me, and together we finally flew toward the sacred light. I was deeply moved and spiritually shaken—an experience hard to replicate in real life. In an absolutely solitary world, meeting another person is a miracle. Within the brief two hours of gameplay, I underwent emotional surges, loss, reunion, and mutual salvation, as if living through a lifetime. This unique “companion system” gave me the most romantic experience of stranger socialization. In an era that glorifies competition and combat between individuals, *Journey* instead leads the experience to the most precious and beautiful human emotions—encounter, companionship, overcoming pain, and moving toward the light. In this sense, I understood this journey and recalled Walt Whitman’s *Song of the Open Road* from *Leaves of Grass*:
“Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.”
No matter how life’s journey unfolds, whether climbing uphill or falling down, the true journey is the soul’s progress—one soul meeting another. Time is cruel; everyone faces tests in the valley, the bleak old age of wind and snow, or losing a traveling companion. Yet as long as the sacred light in one’s heart never extinguishes, there will always be a moment to fly to the peak. In *Finite and Infinite Games*, the author discusses two philosophical views: finite competition aimed at winning, and infinite play that continues forever and lives for the game itself. Compared to achieving visible victory, *Journey* symbolizes enjoying the meaning of “soaring” itself in the ongoing journey of life, defending the value created by one’s own life story. To me, its significance goes beyond pure peak experiences and touches on the philosophy of *Siddhartha*: life lies in noble passion, strong will, and a lofty sense of mission, pursuing divinity and seeking one’s philosophy through continuously dedicating oneself to others.
