GOTG Review: The Last Guardian

This is the second game in my Backlog Roulette series, where each month I spin a wheel to randomly select a game on my massive backlog that I must play (though not necessarily to completion). These wheel spins occur on the monthly preview episodes I co-host with my friends on The Casual Hour podcast.

I’m trying to remember the last time I felt genuine emotion for a character in a video game. Fire Emblem comes to mind. It is my favorite franchise after all. The idea of building up a roster of characters from zeroes to heroes. I celebrate their wins. I’m pained by their losses. But they don’t feel real. When one goes down, I mourn the loss of their utility more than I do the loss of their character.

I may not feel genuine emotion for Lapis as a character, but I sure do love when she does this.

Pokemon has a similar issue. I watch these monsters grow up and evolve over the course of my journey, my six faithful companions helping me take on the world. But the artifice never fully falls away. I see their “health points” and their mechanical abilities and am reminded these are still just bundles of data, and if I think about the numbers long enough, I can game them just right to always land in my favor. The closest I’ve felt to a critter in Pokemon is in the most recent entries, where Game Freak added in a chance to “hang on” with 1HP left after a devastating enemy move if your Pokemon’s friendship stat was high enough. It’s cool to see a Pokemon break the rules of the game through the power of love, but it also happens too often and too randomly for it to feel authentic.

Cliche as it might be, that last time that genuine feeling occurred might be Team Ico’s previous game, Shadow of the Colossus. Agro, your character’s horse was a constant and stalwart ally. Yes, it was mechanical in its own way, but in a game built around solitude, having this one thing on your side was a comfort, one that made the mostly empty world a little less lonely. And while Shadow of the Colossus plays on this attachment in a few key moments, Team Ico’s third game, The Last Guardian, is built entirely in service of this interaction. 

Reductively put, The Last Guardian is the video game embodiment of “a boy and his dog.” You control a nameless boy, waking up in a prison of a cave. But you are not alone. There is a creature locked in here with you — a massive griffin-like animal. Chained, injured and afraid, it lashes out whenever you come near. This is Trico, and while you might not know it yet, this monster is going to become your best friend. 

Trico is the whole reason The Last Guardian works. His appearance may be fantastical, but his movements, his mannerisms, his stubbornness — they are familiar. You look at Trico, and you know he’s made up of polygons and AI “if/then” statements, but that artifice just melts away, expertly hidden by characteristics that are innately animalistic. Trico barks at things he doesn’t understand. He looks at you in confusion as you try to coax him to move. He paws at his food. He stretches his legs after escaping cramped quarters. He shakes the water off him when he comes out of water and then he preens his feathers. It’s magic. And the developers are able to keep up this trick throughout the entire 12-hour experience. 

How could you not love this goofball?

The game around it however, can leave something to be desired: An awkward camera that’s both rigid and yet has a mind of its own, scenarios that go back to the well a few too many times (I can’t tell you how often my character blacked out due to story reasons, only to be woken up in a new area by a rescuing Trico) and world design that, while undeniably beautiful, is often confusing and repetitive. 

But while those things can (and will) frustrate you, they can’t stop the emotion you feel for Trico. Never have I spoken so much to a TV during a playthrough, using the same tone as I would with my own pet. “That’s right, just a bit further. You can do it.” “No, not that way, Trico.” “Oh, you’re hungry now?” “There, there, the bad guys are gone. Nothing to be afraid of.” I caught myself saying these little phrases often, then laughing at how the game had fooled me yet again that Trico was a living, breathing thing.  

The Last Guardian definitely has its moments of intentional heartstring-pulling — big set pieces and scripted events with you or Trico put in a tight spot just to miraculously have the other save them at the most critical of times. And those moments do often land with their intended impact. But it’s the quiet moments that give Trico, and The Last Guardian by extension, its heartbeat. 

I have played and will play hundreds of games that are “better” than The Last Guardian. Games with sharper controls, more layered stories, nicer graphics, smoother framerates and less obnoxious  puzzles. But few games will leave the impression The Last Guardian has. Because despite its flaws (and perhaps, even thanks to them), The Last Guardian made me feel something in a way that most games can’t.