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We played the game from the very beginning. The opening area doubles as a tutorial, but we didn't really need one: Your character will primarily be jumping, climbing and hanging on to ledges and Trico's fur. The gameplay harkens back so closely to Team Ico's other two projects — Ico and Shadow of the Colossus — to contribute to that feeling of deja vu. We scaled Trico for some puzzle-solving, pulling out bloodied spears from his back, which reminded us of the boss battles in Shadow of the Colossus. There's also narration that points you in the right direction, spoken in foreign tongues used in its other games.
I never controlled Trico directly, instead calling upon him at times to act as transportation, a bridge, or a cuddly stepladder. For the most part, Trico would follow, but sometimes it was distracted by food (hey, I get it — me, too). Left alone, Trico sat patiently, or curled up as if to take a nap.
What really surprised me was how, in this sampling of an origin story, I made an instant connection. If I was running ahead, I moved the camera in an awkward way to watch Trico try to catch up. I dreaded leaving Trico’s side — not because I sensed danger that only a giant bird-cat could face, but because I just felt lonely. At one point, I missed Trico making a big splash into water because I was off foraging to find it food.
I’m still unclear on the game’s driving force — only in the final moments of the demo does the game even hint at some of the conflict that lies ahead — but the story is ultimately one of a boy and his giant bird-cat-dog-chicken thing. And after all this time, I’m surprised to find myself so curious where that relationship goes.
http://www.theverge.com/2016/6/14/11...tion-4-e3-2016
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