I heard a lovely story from a primatologist once, about how different apes tend to respond when faced with tricky wooden puzzle boxes. Orangutans, apparently, will sit and think for a while when stumped, and then work carefully at a new angle on the problem. Chimps, meanwhile, will typically lose their tempers, smashing the offending puzzle to splinters with their hellish fists. But gorillas – my dear, sweet gorillas – will just get a little bit sad, before ambling off to find some celery to enjoy instead. It’s not that they’re incapable of finding a solution, or that they’re incurious: they’re just not that desperate to know what’s inside the box.
This is one of the many reasons I respect and admire gorillas. It’s also why I had gigantic mixed feelings about gorgeous platformer Stela. Because although it’s as pretty as anything and dripping with atmosphere, it’s opaque enough to make J.J. Abrams’ Lost seem like a childrens’ story about a pig looking at an egg. It’s a beautiful puzzle box with nothing inside it, and spends its entire, wordless length asking questions whose answers never arrive. If I was of a chimpen nature, this post would be nothing but a bared-fangs screech, delivered from a squatting position atop my wardrobe, with shards of smashed PC in my hands. But luckily, I played Stela with a gorilla’s heart*, and so had no urge to winkle the truth from inside it with my big, leathery fingers. Go in with the same mentality, and you’ll find a lot to love here.
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