[This review was edited by Devon N. Campbell, and he did such an amazing job; I've been so thankful to have his brain working on this to make it shine. Thanks so much, Dev! -Bryan]
VVVVVV. What’s in a title? Seems pretty diminutive, dunnit? Maybe it refers to the six main characters, all of which have names starting with the letter “V.” Maybe it’s talking about the five crew members you’re rescuing: remember, the roman numeral for five is, in fact, “V.” Or mayhaps the game’s speaking of the zig-zags you’ll find yourself making flipping around its maps. It could even be a bit of homage to the death spikes you’ll be familiarizing yourself with in great depth as you play. How about the World Wide Web (WWW), the only place you’ll find this game?
I think the term “psychotic physics-breaking anti-gravity simulation” sums it up pretty well. Should gravity suddenly reverse itself, will you be ready for the new world you find yourself in? I think playing this would certainly prepare you for that situation. Terry Cavanagh, the game's creator, would leave you to decide.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: Bryan. Those graphics are nasty. My Apple-IIE rendered more impressive stuff than this. My response to this is: Absolutely. I’ll ask you to pause reading this and…here. Play around a bit. I’ll wait.
These facts all coalesce into one profound truth: Perfection.
And that’s just the start. VVVVVV has no artificial gates to progression: From start to finish, you play the game on your terms. You can play as little or as much of it as you want to, and any measurable progress achieved is found in the course of exploration. Whatever you happen to run into first, that’s your first step. Whatever you find second, there’s step two, etc.
As you play, you’ll notice most of the rooms have their own “titles” and quips, ranging from taunting (one room labeled “Smooth sailing from here,” followed by the next room layered with traps and moving platforms saying “Ha ha just kidding”) to inconspicuous tips (“Free your mind” for instance...a room that, if you understand the title is referring to a scene from The Matrix, will help you traverse it successfully) to apologetic (first room says “I’m sorry...” and seems safe enough, until you reach the next room lined with spikes, titled “...Please forgive me!”). I don’t understand how so much thought and care can be paid to a game by such a small team. Bennett Foddy did a great job with the titles.
This game is difficult. Progression ranges from fast, fluid and impressive to haltingly and violently slow, but never unforgiving or unfair. There will be trial. There will be error. There might even be gnashing of teeth and near physical abuse to the input device, but when you finally get past that screen you’ve been stuck on for sixty-five deaths, you feel accomplishment. You feel gratification. You feel recognition.
You feel damn good.
As difficult as the “Save your crew” progression might seem at times, don’t worry… that’s not even half of what this game brings to the table in an attempt to crush your soul. It includes within it more than one trophy room to showcase your accomplishments. Finishing one is actually required to reach the next, and that first step in and of itself is a doozey. You can “beat” the game, and afterward go after any objects you might have missed on the trip, a daunting task to begin with, effectively beating the game again. You “master” it. It’s over, right?
...no spoilers, no spoilers, no spoilers...
Suffice it to say, the game kicks it up a notch: ranked time trials (and let me assure you, VVVVVV’s idea of “par” and my idea of “par” differ pretty severely), survival gauntlets, options to play the game reversed from its original layout, and for the truly masochistic and possessed, the game asks you to play through it without dying. It dares you. The trophy is titled “Master of the Universe.” It fits. Are you a bad enough dude to save the crew... with one life?
Is anyone?
Let me be frank: If you own a PC (a high probability, as you’re reading this now) and have any sense of poetry whatsoever, I think I found your next purchase. In a sea of first-person shooters and hack ‘n slash RPG hybrids with their big titles and fancy development studios, this game’s sitting quietly on a street corner underneath the light, silently beeping to itself. It doesn’t necessarily want you to find it, but you’ve probably been looking for VVVVVV for a very, very long time and never even realized it. Terry Cavanagh has lovingly crafted something very special for gamers of all creeds, something the artistically-inclined can appreciate, alongside the hardcore achievers.
It’s challenging through design. It’s unabashedly indie. It’s retro not for the kick of it, but out of an unspoken yet completely understood necessity. It’s adorable and terrifying all at once. It reaches out and attempts to affect as many senses as possible. It’s a game exploring, expanding, exploiting and based on one core mechanic: perspective.
To ignore it would have been tantamount to sin. I came, I saw, I played, I mastered; I was humbled regardless. I’ll never “finish” this game, not in any final sense of the word. And why would I want to?










