Dinosaur Oatmeal
Liechtenstein
I'm a casual :lunar2019piginablanket: :lunar2020ratinablanket: :oxinablanket: :tigerinablanket: :bunnyinablanket: :catinablanket: :lunar2024dragoninablanket: :lunar2025snakeinablanket: :horseinablanket2026:
I'm a casual :lunar2019piginablanket: :lunar2020ratinablanket: :oxinablanket: :tigerinablanket: :bunnyinablanket: :catinablanket: :lunar2024dragoninablanket: :lunar2025snakeinablanket: :horseinablanket2026:
Mental Health Matters
“No amount of love, however brief, is lost.”
Artwork Showcase
The Support of Memory
Review Showcase
14.6 Hours played
The Love of Loss

Throughout your journey in GRIS, the game encapsulates deep and powerful emotions I have yet to find in another title. The mere existence of GRIS reinforces the presence of beauty and awe in the rollercoaster of tumultuous emotions associated with the five stages of grief.

For starters, GRIS is anything but gray. Pastel blues and reds violently clash against stark whites and blacks. The use of color throughout the game to represent emotions without the need to say a single word highlights storytelling in one of its truest forms. The explosions of color drive home a sense of wanderlust, while the clash of opposing ones create a sense of tension or foreboding. Together, the visual experiences reinforce key moments throughout the game as the world around you takes shape and changes.

When paired with the musical narrative, GRIS reaches new heights. The music by Berlinist is perfectly balanced with the gorgeously somber visuals. The rise of the vocals as the world crumbles around you is captivating and draws you into the scene. The antsy and face-paced beat during anger creates a sense of anxiety, while the melancholy music during depression leaves you feeling empty inside. Across the OST, the music leaves you feeling a sense of wonderment about the world created (and being torn apart) as you make your way through the game.

The story is the icing on the cake. I absolutely love the game's cold open. We don't know what happened or why or even when; we only know the present. The journey the game takes you on is expressive and tears at your heartstrings. You're forced to empathize with the game's character without knowing why. The brokenness in the world around you pushes you to be the only constant amidst chaos. There is no fight between good and evil; rather, GRIS explores an inner-personal fight about whether continuing on once you reach rock bottom is worthwhile. No other media has tackled this very question so many people face with the same delicacy and care GRIS manages to. The game isn't in your face as story beats never feel forced onto the player, which is exactly how such a weighty topic should be approached.

GRIS isn't a game so much as it's an interactive story, urging you to unravel the mystery woven into it. The emotional depth the game portrays refuses to be overlooked, reaching a point where it encourages reflection not only on the story but also on yourself. Upon its eventual close, I was moved to tears amidst my applauding as the credits rolled :)