The Minor Bits: Celeste

[contains minor spoilers]

Behind Celeste's cartoonish art style and vivid color palette is a story about struggle. The struggle of trusting others, the struggle of accepting oneself, and most pointedly, the struggle with failure. Few games are as honest and forthcoming about their themes as Celeste, which opens by telling you that your goal is to climb a mountain. It's a daunting task that weighs on every character in the story, growing heavier and heavier as the air continues to thin. Yet there's a beautiful brutality to it in hindsight, like catching the sunset glimmering over a lake during a marathon. The catch is—like with any fulfilling activity in life—that to get the most out of it, you have to struggle.

And if you're interested in the postgame, that means struggling a lot.

Not since Super Meat Boy have I faced such an oppressive wall of difficulty in a platformer. But the good news is that if you're only interested in the main story, Celeste isn't all that bad. That's not to say it isn't frustrating at times, but if you stick with it you can clear the game in under 1000 deaths. Compare that to the postgame, where there's a chance the tally will skyrocket up to 10x that amount. If that number appears dispiriting, what helps takes the edge off is that Celeste has lightning quick restarts to keep the action rolling. It's a minor but crucial touch, one that keeps the player invested in maintaining their groove even in the most absurd situations (like at the start of stage 3's C-side).

What also helps is that your next checkpoint is always close by, as individual sections in Celeste are pretty short (besides the damn C-sides). Stages usually consist of 1-2 screens littered with obstacles and spikes, with checkpoints doled at every screen transition. This keeps its individual challenges brief and surmountable—which is ironic, given that Celeste's levels on the whole are lengthy and grueling. The shortest stage takes around twenty minutes to complete, with the rest of the levels gradually adding to this time until it culminates in the one hour endurance test that is the final level (which will feel like a joke after Farewell). Stages in Celeste are more like entire worlds from Super Meat Boy—but even then, the latter title at least lets you skip its hardest levels. Meanwhile Celeste... well, it is a game anchored in struggle after all.

Thankfully, similar to many of the best platformers, unique mechanics are frequently interjected to spice up gameplay. While you can expect genre staples like springs, wind, and falling platforms, what surprised me were some of the mechanics not seen in many (any?) platformers before: permeable star blocks, dash-activated blocks (both varieties!), gold feathers, and the entire hot/cold mechanic of the core (as well as its clever dash limitations). You won't ever find Celeste at a want for ingenuity... although there definitely are moments where it indulges in its design a little too long (specifically, the end of stage six). Still, it's impressive just how many mechanics Celeste crams into its relatively short run time.

Even more impressive than that, however, is that the game continues to teach you new things long after the credits have rolled. Within Celeste's bonus levels (cutely labeled B-sides and C-sides), you'll discover new ways to interact with old mechanics, as well as uncover two more dash maneuvers. Like with Super Metroid, what's nifty about these hidden abilities is that they've been available to you from the very start, opening up the ways you can interact with the game on a replay. But be forewarned that they're not for the faint of heart; wavedashing in particular is a fickle beast, something I could barely get to work properly half of the time. You don't need it for the majority of the game, but the spots where it is required will definitely test your resolve.

I maintain that the gameplay in Celeste is its greatest asset, but it's no slouch in the narrative department either. The story here is simple yet potent, opting to avoid the granularity of mountain climbing for a more introspective look at its characters. You won't find an in-depth discussions as to the lore of the mountain or how its magic operates either; Celeste keeps its eye squarely on the future, less concerned with the "why" and more with the "what are you going to do about it?" It has a great message about coming to terms with who you are, conveying its emotion not just through the writing but its wonderful art, music, and even sound effects. Plus thanks to Celeste's brilliant assist mode, nearly everyone can make it to the top to see how the story concludes.

Don't be surprised however, if you're initially drawn in to the story but wind up staying for the gameplay.

While climbing Celeste, don't be surprised if your palms begin to sweat, your joints ache, and fingers callus over. Despite its lighthearted exterior, Celeste is a hardcore experience that can give even the most hardened platform-savants a run for their money. But it's never flagrantly cruel or purposefully pernicious; Celeste is about keeping calm and finding a surgical solution to your problems. And more important than that, it's about knowing your limits—do you want to get all the strawberries? Finish the merciless B-Sides? The punishingly precise C-Sides? Endure the bottomless abyss of the golden fruits? To play Celeste is confront your limits, understand your capabilities, and not beat yourself up if it gets too hard. Through play you'll struggle, and in struggling, you'll cultivate the chance to succeed.

And few things are as tremendously satisfying as finally besting a challenge that had once seemed all but impossible.