I finished Journey recently, or rather Thatgamecompany’s shining metaphoric achievement. The mystery, the intrigue, and the philosophical edge is unforgettable, but unfortunately, part of that was taken from me.
Part of Journey’s appeal is anonymity. You can’t invite friends to play. Those who join your game didn’t choose too, but are on their own journey to find answers. But, at the end credits, it’s revealed who you played with. While it’s not right to reveal the actual PSN ID of the person who joined me, needless to say it was something like this: xXd1cksmasher98Xx
Maybe I assume too much, and someone with such a fixation on phallic symbols wouldn’t even be interested in Journey. I also supposed that’s rotten typecasting from being bitter over so many failed online introductions. Sue me. In that case, I do apologize to the “dick smashers” of the world. Maybe there’s more to you than we understand.
The problem with all of this is that Journey astounds in those closing moments. I’m fixated on this screen and what it’s about to show me, and boom, PSN ID nearly sinks the whole thing. If you haven’t played -or finished- Journey, you certainly don’t understand. If you have played Journey, know I’m the type who is easily distracted, not to mention I was looking for something more in the credits. All of this deeply personal material, set to a haunting musical score, and there’s our good buddy, xXd1cksmasher98Xx.
I applaud Thatgamecompany about everything Journey does, and how it creates plus answers the questions it chooses to enlighten the audience on. Part of me wishes for a more open world creating the illusion of choice, the sole gripe in a masterpiece that’s sort of like ranting on the internet over a stray paint stroke on the Mona Lisa. But really, letting everyone know who was who is sort of pointless, and the xXd1cksmasher98X types of the world prove why.