Flower was born out of a simple idea: human beings are internally conflicted because although we are called to nature, we consistently choose to wall ourselves off from it. More simply, Flower is a video game about going outside. But fear not, since Thatgamecompany employees grew up with mothers too, no attempt is made to conjure memories of epic boss battles ended by a voice sternly saying, "It's nice out." Instead, Flower attempts to reinvigorate these ancient emotions associated with nature through its gameplay. That Thatgamecompany is able to successfully convey this idea while at the same time creating a fun and pleasing experience is a testament to the developer's understanding of the medium's strengths.
The first thing one notices while playing is an effort to contain all of the game's information within the world. Rarely does an icon or piece of text appear: there's no HUD; the menu system is a room in your apartment; level selection is series of flower pots; and every level takes place in your imagination. To further push immersion, Flower omits death and time mechanics. The game encourages a "play at your own pace" mentality and goes to a lot of effort to avoid breaking the illusion.
Controls reinforce the low-intensity structure by focusing on simplicity over pin-point accuracy (which really isn't needed anyway). The player starts each level as a single petal blown off of a flower. Using Sixaxis to steer and any button to move forward, I quickly found myself comfortably soaring across grassy fields. Free-flying, like swimming, is rarely done well in 3D video games, but Flower does a better job then any game I've played.
In keeping with the philosophy of simplicity, the game's objective is to cause new flowers to bloom by touching them and variations in flower color distinguish what happens when one does. Some allow advancement through levels while others exist as breadcrumb trails or interactive aesthetic. A word of warning: the bell heard with each bloom has a strangely Pavlovian feel to it.
Flower's attempt to invoke naturphilia succeeds only if a player is willing to accept the game's message of relaxation. For example, I approached the opening level with a traditional gamer's perspective: What is the goal? After discovering the objective, I sped through the level to "win" and subsequently thought an episode of "Leave It to Beaver" might hold more entertainment value. Yet over the course of the next few levels I slowed down, took it all in, and realized I'd been playing it wrong.
I thought about gamers' psyches and how they have been shaped over years to seek gaming cues. Cues are best shown by example: the block for the puzzle; the glowing orb on a creature; or in Flower's case, the color of the flowers. Unlike most games which encourage this, enjoyment of Flower is predicated on selectively neglecting cues. Thus the game finds itself in a peculiar place; having fun while playing demands an almost schizophrenic mindset. Gratification relies on players ignoring cues, but completion is dependent upon players acknowledging them. It's a very difficult line to walk, but well worth the reward.
If at this point it all sounds a bit confusing, that's because it is. But at the end of the day, strange and/or quirky games are best understood by playing them. Flower happens to be both. It shines brightest when viewed as a distraction from most gaming genres. Rather than reigning down various incarnations of whoop-ass, Flower recreates feelings associated with standing in a field on a breezy sun-filled day. With themes rooted in our natural world (which I will leave you to discover), it's a gem that any game enthusiast should buy... especially at its ten dollar price point. Even after finishing, I found myself being drawn back to the game. Mom, you got me halfway there; at least I want to go and play in a digital outside.
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