I’ve done this review in the form of a visual poem. The game in question, by Team Tree, may be downloaded here. It can be played in minutes.
Tree is a game that grows
first in the sense that, quite literally, it expands upward and outward as you play
and secondly in the sense that, it’s the sort of thing that leaves a distinct afterimage for days
and days after you play it. It’s a game that’s more like calligraphy, weaving the root into a complex network of curious blue birds,
brittle ebony branches like the pointing fingers of an old witch, blushing pink magnolias in bloom,
and the bright orange bulbs of some strange fruit.
One, or two players control the hand-inked black boughs—or one player controls both—
and, using keyboard keys, slowly guide the boughs left, right or forward,
leaving behind a streak of black ink on the scrolling parchment, ever growing skyward.
This brush stroke, a trail of bark left behind by the bough,
forms the trunk,
and as it twists and swerves, the solid foundation of the tree, t
forms knots u g
and bumps, r n
and lines, o n i t s elf,
and cracks, w
and blossoming all along o
its surface, r
all the beautiful life i had selected to g
like l e
a v
or e s,
p
poweru ,
or the
impressionistic blots
of diluted paint.
And the music,
calm and lilting,
encourages me
upward, like rain.
I collect the seeds,
powerful things,
and I see all the details
up close, too close
astounded
by both the beauty
and all the minutiae.
Like all small decisions,
I’m unsure if I’m making
anything of it,
not quite certain
how it all
adds up,
until it pulls b
a n d I
c
k a
witness the sum n
of my handiwork.