Amphora (PC) Review

The game feels like a version of Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective set in a non-specific ancient culture and solved using the mechanics of Crayon Physics Deluxe, minus the ability to draw solid objects. The player controls a ghostly hand emanating from an amphora jar that's inexplicably present at all of the major events of the main character's life from birth to adulthood, where she falls in love and fights to survive a military invasion of her homeland. The hand can move certain objects within a circle of varying size around the amphora, and perhaps more importantly, can create and destroy ethereal chains to bind objects together or attach them to static surfaces.

These mechanics prove deceptively versatile when removed from the usual videogame goals of collection, combat, and escape. In fact, the impressive variety of objectives is the game's strongest asset. Puzzle solutions include helping a tortoise win a footrace, protecting a man from arrows by creating a carapace of shields, and directing fireworks out a window using carefully angled tables. Deciphering these solutions using only visual cues elicits the same sense of satisfied curiosity that discovering an obscure but logical character interaction in Scribblenauts does. It's a feeling that's seldom experienced, and the puzzles that require lateral thinking (for example, binding two objects together from far away to create an item with longer reach) are especially good at conjuring it.

Unfortunately, the very mechanics that make this possible also bring a host of problems to the table - both structural ones and those related to specific puzzles. For one thing, the reliance on visual instructions is a massive stumbling block. It's often impossible to tell what the conflict of a given level is, let alone how to resolve it. The game is quite proud of its wordless narrative, and rightly so, but even a WarioWare-style single-word command at the beginning of each level would have significantly improved the experience. This obscurity is exacerbated by the inconsistency with which the mechanics are limited: chains will sometimes affect objects other than the one they are attached to, but sometimes not, and humans can only be interacted with 50% of the time.

Amphora also refuses to settle into any of its mechanics for a decent amount of time. Only the chain mechanic receives any depth, as it's occasionally upgraded with increased rigidity, altering the tasks for which it is suited. Elsewhere, players will spin windmills to provoke wind, lure animals with bait, and blow away crumbling rock with explosives, all of which are considered puzzles in and of themselves instead of potential components for larger, more intricate contraptions. Despite this simplicity, the game's later puzzles become quite messy, requiring the player to draw a tangled knot of chains and brute force their way to the solution. The simplicity does work in the game's favour, however, when it comes to the general interaction of objects. It's not perfect, but it's still considerably more reliable than most physics-based games.

One of Amphora's other aspects that it can't seem to commit to is its approach to time. Some levels happen in real time, but others are essentially tableaux, with characters remaining still, often in mortal danger until the level is completed. The real-time levels can be quite engaging, but the static levels just feel silly when their dramatic tone is juxtaposed with the experimental fumbling required. Removed from the gameplay, the story is actually quite enjoyable. It's especially nice to see such a relatable, proactive female protagonist, complete with a love interest who is a full character in his own right, not just a love interest. It does have a delivery problem, though. The lack of any connective tissue between levels feels like the videogame equivalent of an amateur novel whose every line is some variant of "…and then this happened."

In addition to narrative, it's clear that presentation was a priority, with the art, which simultaneously evokes black-figure Greek pottery, stained glass, and certain strands of Native American art, being marvellous to look at, and the smoky effect of the player's presence, while distracting at first, eventually blends into the overall aesthetic nicely. It's not a very practical art style, however. Characters often appear interchangeable, to the point that it takes a while to realise that the story is following a specific group of them, and there's no immediate way to differentiate interactive objects from immobile ones. Like the art, the music is a pleasant cultural melting pot, albeit a repetitive one. The sound effects also suffer for their repetition, especially the uncomfortable vocal performances, but they are alright otherwise.