Story
A girl awakens in the palm of a crumbling statue. After dropping to the colorless land below the girl begins walking forward, collecting stars as she goes. The stars she collects open new pathways in the form of constellations and restore color to her world.
Gris' nearly non-existent narrative is expressed with no text or spoken language, relying instead on its gorgeous watercolor art style and allegory to tell a tale. For example, the different color stages of the protagonist's journey are a metaphor for the stages of grief:
Denial: The loss of color at the beginning and the girl's inability to speak.
Anger: The red sands and harsh winds of the first chapter.
Bargaining: The green vegetation and apple barter in the second chapter.
Depression: The blue waters and deep caves of the third chapter.
Acceptance: The yellow lights and return of the girl's voice in the final chapter.
Throughout her journey the girl's inner demons take physical form,
manifesting as shape-shifting inky black creatures intent on consuming
her.
Gameplay
The player moves left or right, navigating through environmental puzzles by using Gris' abilities. They aren't terribly difficult; oftentimes as simple as becoming a block to smash things or withstand strong winds.
My one major gripe with Gris is how hard it can be at times to tell the background from the foreground, and which environmental elements are interactive.
Conclusion
You're not going to play Gris to get the best platforming experience. The appeal is in the aesthetic and symbolism. Gris' obstacles are both physical and emotional, and every design decision was meant to subtly convey this. Gris doesn't do anything mind-blowing, but as someone with a deep appreciation for art and a love for works of fiction with hidden meaning, I was left longing to go back to the watercolor world of Gris.
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