Fast fish and loose fish.
It’s a diving game and I can barely swim, but that hasn’t mattered a bit.
It’s a game in which nothing much happens, and what does happen only happens very slowly.
But I’ve really enjoyed it so far.
This is a diving game.
Flock of fish in the distance?
(Is flock the right term?)
Point at them too.
Point at big fish and small fish.
Point at sharks and minnows.
You get the idea.
It’s quite cool.
Pointing at the fish is its own reward.
Well, for one thing, it’s very peaceful.
There’s very little drama in Endless Ocean Luminous, even when the plot gets cooking.
This is why I don’t want to play with 29 other people online.
There’s sand and rock below you, and there’s the shimmering of the surface above you.
And who knows what you’ll find?
Sometimes I explore thin channels of beige rock with tight corners.
Sometimes it’s forests of kelp, or strange coraly formations that look like submerged beehives.
It’s mindless in a way that brings me a deep kind of calm.
I probably shouldn’t be proud of this.
And then at times Endless Ocean Luminous suddenly pulls a mystery on you.
I’ll dive in and there will be darkness below me, a tunnel inviting me down.
I’ll see fish and sharks below me which I know I haven’t yet pointed at.
None of this is why I will explore, though, or why I’ll enjoy exploring.
Again, apologies that this works so well for me in this particular instance.
It’s just this block of a watery world and I get to head in and zone out.
And I zone out because the stuff I’m meant to do here is so minimal.
If Endless Ocean Luminous was slightly better at being a game, I would have moved on already.
A copy of Endless Ocean Luminous was supplied by Nintendo.
