There’s been a lot of navel gazing going on in video games lately. Many recent titles have explored the role of the player, their relationship with developers, and subverted the conventions we’ve come to expect from games. The term meta is often used as a way of describing this type of self aware experience. Calendula, the new game from Blooming Bud Studios, ticks all the necessary boxes for the term to be applicable – intentionally deceptive menus, constant crashes and reboots, and breaking of the fourth wall. But it overlooks an important element. A game about games should reveal a truth about the medium and enable us to view that aspect from a new perspective. If this is the defining trait of a meta experience, Calendula doesn’t qualify, because for the most part I had no idea what the game was trying to say.
There are two distinct parts of Calendula. Most of our time is spent investigating a glitchy menu system, manipulating the options in unconventional ways. Doing so correctly is the key to unlocking“Calendula”, the experimental first person horror game that we’re trying to play. But “Calendula”apparently holds such a dark secret that it doesn’t want to be played.
We’re presented with the main menu screen, and Calendula immediately screws with expectations – clicking on the new game option brings up an error window. “Calendula” can only be played by loading previous save files which require passwords to be accessed. Standard video game settings like screen resolution and audio sliders become the means of finding the game’s secret codes.
The task never becomes particularly challenging, not only because there are limited places to look for a solution, but because hints can be found in plain sight on the main menu screen. Under an effigial all-seeing eye (a required symbol to achieve Illuminati status) is a line of text which reads not only as a poetic musing, but a hint directing the player to the next solution. One clue expresses the importance of patience, for example, and it’s down to the player to discover how that concept can be demonstrated in-game. These hints make the process closer to solving logic riddles than complex puzzles. Each menu option can be exploited just once, so the process of elimination only makes it easier as the game progresses. That’s not necessarily a bad thing as I find that games that rely heavily on mood and atmosphere are burdened by overly complex puzzles. While they may not be as satisfying as a result, they’re often inventive, clever and varied.
By finding a password and accessing an existing save file, a sliver of “Calendula” can be played. In first person, the player moves languidly through dank, fleshy corridors before witnessing brief, disturbing vignettes straight out of an experimental arthouse film. These scenes supposedly hold the mysterious story of Calendula, but they’re so obfuscated that they serve only to disturb, not enlighten. Those looking for a coherent narrative will find very little, and attempting to draw meaning from the abstract images will likely yield something entirely of the player’s own creation. There’s also a lack of nuance. When Calendula stops being deliberately vague at the game’s finale, it becomes too obvious in its Freudian allegory. I was left wondering whether I’d managed to string together some semblance of a story based on the conclusion alone, and I strained to fit all the previous nonsense into that interpretation. If Calendula is trying to make a statement about video games, the best reading I can come up with is a satirical comment on narratives that are so deeply buried they become inaccessible. I doubt this was the intention.
Unfortunately there’s another factor working against Calendula, one that isn’t even a fault of the game. Earlier this year Pony Island was released, and the similarities between the two are impossible to ignore. Both are fourth-wall-breaking, interface-manipulating puzzle games with demonic aesthetics. As much as I tried to forget my experience with Pony Island and experience Calendulawith fresh eyes, it was futile because so much of the same sleight of hand is used. The problem is that those tricks only work once. Perhaps if I’d played Calendula first I would feel differently about it, and certainly someone who hasn’t experienced Pony Island would find an enthusiasm for Calendulathat I’m not able to.
So we’re left with puzzles that are inventive but not terribly rewarding, a narrative that feels empty and pretentious, and ideas that have been better realised elsewhere. All of this would suggest thatCalendula isn’t worth playing, but if you’re particularly invested in this kind of esoteric mind-fuck, it still probably is. It’s black and red visual style is classy and sharp, and the sound design is terrific; the haunting ambient noise and pulsating heartbeats go a long way in creating a sense of dread, and there’s no forced jump scares undermining the game’s well paced tension.
Calendula is a smart horror experience with some interesting puzzles, but it’s ultimately let down by a hollow narrative. I’m not sure why you’d really want to play the in-game “Calendula” when it gives so little. While it is quite original, it suffers from the misfortune of being the second self-referential meta game I’ve played this year. I would still recommend giving Calendula your time if you haven’t had enough of this type of subversive experience, and if you haven’t played Pony Island your experience may be far richer than mine. And if nothing else, Calendula will certainly feel fresher that the next game that draws from this same bag of tricks.