ICO is a video game that makes me feel things. Things that I can’t quite describe.
Ever since I first stepped foot in the castle’s plundered hallways, heard Ico’s footsteps echo through the abandoned corridors, and practically felt the gentle breeze roll through its silent, long-forgotten courtyards, it’s a feeling I just haven’t been able to shake.
Its ethereal, dreamlike world – Ghibli-esque in its feel – is so steeped in mystery, drowning in atmosphere, and downright well crafted, that, in the years that have passed, I’ve almost convinced myself it’s a real place.
It’s one of only two games that have ever made me cry actual tears (well played, The Last of Us) and it’s been perched at the tippity-top of my all-timers list for a long while now, despite the best efforts of INSIDE, Celeste, and The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild.
But we have a strange relationship, ICO and I – in more ways than one.
Despite releasing in Europe 21 years ago, it wasn’t until much later – in 2013 – that I first got my mitts on ICO in the form of the ICO & Shadow of the Colossus Collection for PS3. To my surprise, I found it had aged like a fine wine.
In hindsight, the shock was unwarranted; there isn’t really all that much in ICO to age. In some ways, it barely even resembles a video game – at least, not one of its time.
In 1997, just as the industry was fawning over full FMV, multi-CD-ROM epics like Final Fantasy VII, Fumito Ueda – who would famously go on to create Shadow of the Colossus and The Last Guardian – was envisioning a different kind of experience.
“I don’t personally like very complicated games,” he told CONTINUE magazine in 2005. “If there are too many stats and numbers, I lose interest right away”
And so, while the bulk
Read more on pushsquare.com