Its understated but potent writing sticks the landing. Despite the dripping earnestness, The Artful Escape’s cheesiness is limited to its guitar licks. It’s a game full of surprisingly deep messages about what it means to be authentic (sometimes, blending truth and aspirational truths), to make impactful art (create things people don’t even know they want yet), and to prove others’ expectations of us wrong (excellence cannot be prescribed). It would be trite to say The Artful Escape is a game about finding yourself. As one manic-pixie laser-light artist tells him, “You dress like a drifter but you sound like a space opera.” With pressure mounting from his small-town neighbors to take up his uncle’s mantle, Francis escapes his childhood bedroom into the night, where a brain-in-a-vat alien meets him outside his home to escort him to the cosmic extraordinary, a dreamlike acid trip to the “gray matter between the lobes of the universe.” To the public, he’s the ghost of a folk legend, but privately Francis rocks. On the evening before his first show, a celebration of his uncle’s greatest hits, Francis encounters a series of intergalactic beings who force him to confront his own mundanity, but also his own prodigiousness. Francis is a small-town sci-fi geek whose uncle was a folk music legend. In the vein of David Bowie and his cosmic alter ego Ziggy Stardust, The Artful Escape follows the inception of protagonist Francis Vendetti’s psychedelic stage persona. You actually do all of these things in the game, but they’re also all metaphors, man. It’s like sliding down an endless tree branch in a magical forest. The Artful Escape is like riding an elephant-sized moth toward the setting sun. But The Artful Escape is also a game about free association, so let’s indulge in some. Never have I played a game like the intro to a Parliament record: Partying on the mothership / I am the mothership connection / Gettin' down in 3-D / Light year groovin'.įunk isn’t a perfect comparison for The Artful Escape, a game specifically about rock ‘n’ roll and a young prodigy’s journey to guitar stardom. Some are like playground dodgeball or an after-school fight club behind the McDonald’s dumpster.
Others are like slot machines, ding-dinging serotonin receptors with random victory. Some games are like Skinner boxes, parceling out rewards for pulling the right levers.
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