I’d like to start a new series here on my blog called “Outstanding Games.” First, let me say that I only plan to showcase games that I have personally finished. Second, let me say that the games which I highlight in this series will not all be perfect. Indeed, many of them will be deeply flawed. Likewise, there will be many good games which I do not highlight in this series. However, each of these games will have the common quality that they stand out in some way. The way in which they stand out may be that they have an interesting mechanic or a well-constructed setting or it may be that they simply execute everything well. Regardless, these games are those that I consider in some way “outstanding.” So let’s begin with our first game, A Boy and His Blob.
Wikipedia tells me that A Boy and His Blob (available for a great many systems) is a “re-imagining” of the Nintendo game A Boy and His Blob: Trouble in Blobolonia. However, since I’m fuzzy on just what, exactly, a “re-imagining” is, (as opposed to a remake or an enhanced remake or a reboot) and furthermore, I’ve never played the original game, I’m going to avoid comment on that aspect of it. (Note how I have cleverly spent a whole paragraph avoiding comment on it. I could probably spend even more paragraphs avoiding talking about it. Don’t try me.)
What I will comment on instead is what makes this game outstanding. The first thing one notices about A Boy and His Blob is its art style. A Boy and His Blob is undeniably cute. And that’s what I’d like to talk about here, because that aesthetic isn’t merely on the surface, but pervades the game as a whole.
The game starts with a blob from outer space landing crash landing in the woods near a young boy’s tree fort. The boy goes to investigate, and the two become fast friends. Soon it is discovered that the blob loves jellybeans and that when the blob eats different colors of jellybeans, he turns into different shapes, from a ladder to a hole in the ground to a parachute. And this is where the core gameplay comes in.
A Boy and His Blob is a 2D platformer. However, most of the game is more concerned with puzzles than with reflexes. There are some times when you have to time things right to avoid hitting spikes or being attacked by an enemy, but most of the time, the focus is on discovering what combination of jellybeans you can feed to the blob to get through the current situation and to the golden jellybean that marks the end of the level. And fortunately, the game is very forgiving. Even when you die, most of the time the game simply starts you back at the beginning of whatever room you happen to be in. There are, admittedly, some times that require hand-eye coordination, particularly in the challenge levels and with bosses, but it never reaches the stress level of more traditional platformers.
If all of that makes this game sound approachable, that’s because it is. Everything about this game is meant to create a friendly, happy, approachable experience. The graphics are simple and cute, with big eyes, round edges, and soft colors. The boy looks and moves like a little boy to an incredible degree. There’s a button on the controller that has the boy call to the blob to come back to him. The “C’mere!” “Blob!” and sharp whistle that this button elicits are greatly reminiscent of a certain type of bossy young child. And one of the other buttons has no purpose but to give the blob a big hug—a reminder that even the brattiest of kids have moments of heart-melting sweetness.
And that’s the amazing thing about this game. In A Boy and His Blob, almost everything comes together to create a certain type of experience—a certain type of story. And it’s a type of story that will be familiar to anyone who has been a little boy and most who have been little girls, because it’s a story of childhood. It’s the story that as a child you read over and over again: a boy with a startling lack of parental oversight goes on an exciting adventure, meets new friends, faces dangers, triumphs, and returns home again. It’s a story told in Harold and the Purple Crayon, in Where the Wild Things Are, and in countless other children’s books. And it’s a story most of us have lived. It’s not a new story, but it’s well told. And that, in the end, is what matters.
Edit: It has come to my attention that I have written a song about this game. It has some spoilers in it (it retells the whole game), but if you don’t care about that, give it a listen.