And combat, as you might expect, makes you feel perpetually insignificant, with the game's lurking, predatory foes stirring a sense of constant, anticipatory unease.Ĭomplacency plays its part too. Blades of grass don't bend beneath you, and most threats force you to look up at them, reinforcing the whole "titchy" feeling. You're vulnerable, you're weightless, you're constantly forced to look up at everyday objects that tower above. It wasn't enough to tell players they were small, Grounded had to make you feel tiny as well, and you do that with more than just a shifting of scale. Speaking of the kids, being tiny brings its own perils. ![]() So when a rampaging invertebrate atrocity comes at you, mandibles dripping at the thought of ripping out your throat and laying eggs in the wound, and all the kids think to do is make light quips… well, it all feels a little surreal, to say the least, and makes me think I can't depend on these little brats quite as much as they'd have me believe. Not that they're brave, more like they don't recognize that they're in mortal peril at all. They've been kidnapped, imprisoned, experimented on, shrunk to almost nothing, and left to die at the hands of monsters with almost no chance of survival, for goodness' sake.Īnd weirdly enough, the teens never seem particularly frightened by this either. They're chipper and constantly joking among themselves, reflecting the corny movie dialogues of the 1980s, but don't seem phased by how awful their situation is. And that's another layer of oddness the game projects: all the teenagers you control feel, well, odd. Consequently you're hardcoded to think of yourself as being on the back foot, despite the game not openly saying so – and the kids never acknowledging it either.
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