Keeper is definitely worth playing, but not necessarily because of the gameplay. A frustrating fixed camera, a repeated sense of aimlessness, and a general lack of intention in action all reduce interactivity and engagement. At the same time, however, Keeper is an astonishingly attractive visual experience, made even more special by its unspoken narrative and incredibly artistic artistic presentation.
You are a lighthouse, and for reasons that are not entirely clear, you decide to break away from your station on the coast and set out on spindly legs of stone and driftwood, like a spider, to crawl through the ruined and strange world before you. You’re joined by a strange bird perched on top of you, occasionally flying out to interact with a world of multi-eyed turtles, pink clouds, or tentacles that dissolve when exposed to lithe. From the very first moments it is a step towards surrealism and dreams. Players interested in art may be reminded of figures such as Salvador Dali or Max Ernst while discovering astonishing places touched by the strange or impossible.
In practice, Keeper is an adventure game filled with straightforward, linear-path environmental puzzles, many of which focus on illuminating murky things. Place a strange ball-shaped creature here, shoot a balloon-shaped creature there, and recent paths will open up for you. The cleverest of these puzzlers play with time manipulation, making tiny trips into the past and future to change the shape of an object or path.
However, many of them are vaguer, less engaging and lack clear directive. I often found myself wandering erratically around a level’s open spaces, tapping or adjusting the device without a clear idea of what I was doing, just waiting to see how it would change things around me. This lack of intention or purpose began to frustrate me, even if it sometimes affected the sense of hypnagogic awareness that was at the heart of Keeper’s aesthetic.
The fixed camera, like framing individual moments of conceptual art, is consistently used as a signpost and sight encouraging exploration. While this often results in attractive still frames, it also frustrates me and sometimes leaves me struggling to find my way. Without the ability to turn and see the world around me, I was often trapped and disoriented by the spaces I was exploring through. This was especially true in some of the mid-game water-centric sections, where I started to feel really lost in the landscape of strange silhouettes and winding paths.
Aside from the gorgeous graphics, the most fascinating parts of Keeper are a few particularly magical moments that I wouldn’t want to spoil in a critique. Suffice it to say, this game explores the power of resilience, the capacity for change, and how our friendships and connection to the world around us enable both. Even while admitting some of the things I didn’t like about my gameplay, I also suggest that it’s worth experiencing these inspired sequences for yourself.
Keeper is strange in many ways and sometimes becomes truly psychedelia. Assessing it as a game, there were some things that didn’t suit me. As a work of art and a artistic endeavor, it fares much better.
