Proteus’ Natural Nature
And why noone has ever come as close since.
“Think of all the amazing stuff that’s between places, that we miss”
— Ed Key, in Hannah Nicklin’s “A Psychogeography of Games”
Earlier this year, at the start of Spring, I went for a short walk. It followed a track through a short section of woods widening out into a path alongside a golf course, before branching off past fields of small sheep, eventually leading to the top of a hill overlooking the sea and town I currently live in. This was a walk I am familiar with, yet one I always enjoy. In the springtime, the woods begin to blossom, small flowers appearing on the floor. The path is muddy but not well trodden, weather partially cloudy, a brisk breeze keeping you on your toes.
Proteus, by Ed Key, is a game that understands walking. Each time you start a “new game” of Proteus, it generates a new island for you to explore. As with most “Walking Simulators” (a term Key despises), there is no goal to Proteus. Unlike a lot of Walking Simulators, Proteus feels alive.
It is both dense, whilst leaving space. Distractions chase you without the need for icons cluttering the screen, a minimap full of sidequests. Instead, Proteus sits still, letting the player simply explore its environment.
On Saturday, I went for a walk with Lydia. There was a small breeze, combined with brilliant sunshine. We wandered aimlessly along the coast, skimming stones along the calm sea and parallel river. We sat on rocks, stared up at hills, accidentally scared away lambs. We sat on the shore of a river, staring at the flowing water. The sun beat down on us as we followed a dry path, slowing plodding along.
What makes nature? What is it that leaves games often feel so sterile in comparison?
Walks have dirt to them. They have unpredictability, they have change. There are moments of beauty, moments of dullness. Nature exists in a constant state of flux, a consistent ever flowing change. There are distinct changes — night time vs daytime, spring vs summer vs autumn vs winter, rain vs sun vs cloud. Ever changing ever moving. Insects and animals dart around in the corner of your sight. Small flowers drift in the breeze, hills loom. Leaves fall gently to the floor. Monuments linger in the distance.
Proteus understands the ever present subtle movement of nature. It flows and twists and turns. The island lives: frogs jump, trees shed their leaves, seasons change. Day turns into night, stars winking as you journey beneath them. An ever changing dynamic score by David Kanaga only emphasises this eternal change — the music drifts in and out. Leaves sparkle, sharp structures and statues cause your hairs to stand on end. Stars spread themselves across the sky leaving you wide eyed with wonder.
The landscape is bumpy, letting huge hills, small crannies, a shoreline, meadows and everything in between roam free. Proteus’ landscape reflects its change too — in order to fully appreciate change, you must have constants. The landscape is the anchor to Proteus’ transformation.
When I was younger, I used to love to collect conkers during Autumn. As me and my family walked up to church on a bright sunday morning, we used to deliberately walk beneath horse chestnut trees, searching for conkers to deposit into our already bulging pockets. I remember being fascinated by the infinitely deep brown of a conker, completely losing myself in the shades of brown.
Seasons have different feels to them.
Spring is hopeful. It is full of bright flowers, blue skies, light rain. Trees begin to blossom, days get brighter, temperatures warm. There is a hope in the air, Summer is around the corner.
Summer is joyous. Days are lazy and warm. The sun is out in full force, wisps of cloud brushed across the sky. Everything is green, fresh and exciting. The end of the year is still so far away.
Autumn is melancholic. Summer is over, the leaves on trees turn a deep orange, as if the entirety of nature is setting, ready for winter. Animals begin to hide, jumpers are refound and the wind picks up. Days are getting darker.
Winter is cold. It is full of silhouettes of trees, their branches reaching towards you. Some cling onto their last leaves, desperate for the bright summer days. There are few plants, few animals. You can see your breath.
Proteus’ trees are its most telling change. Their colours change, melding from a bright palette in spring, mellowing out until they reach the orange and red of autumn, their leaves nearly all but disappearing in the winter.
Winter is Proteus’ most brilliant piece. There is the temptation to continue to give the player more. To ramp up the stakes more and more until you reach the most extreme final point of the game. Proteus instead, takes away. Winter is a stark contrast to the rest of the game, eerie trees reaching up towards the heavens, a white snow filled landscape highlighting their bones.
Winter is quiet.
Tonight, I went for a walk. I wandered up a hill and stared over the landscape, gazing at the stars. I sat down next to some lilac coloured flowers, I chased a frog until it disappeared in the undergrowth. I ran through the trees, wide eyed at everything around me. I eventually ran into a graveyard. Slowing down, I walked until I reached more woods, graves thinning out.
When the night visited, everything became quiet. It was a clear night. The stars hung in the sky, beckoning to me. I closed my eyes and breathed them in. The cool air brushed past the flowers next to me as I sat on the hill, staring out.
