My grandmother really helped make me into the person that I am today.

When she died, I was decimated. I have never felt such deep pain and loss, not before then and not since, not even when my grandfather, who also had a hand in making me who I am, died a few years after her. Maybe it was because she got sick so suddenly and was gone so quickly, or maybe it was just that I didn't really know what a world without her would be like, but whatever it was, I was never the same again. I remember staying in my room that night, sobbing myself to sleep and blogging to whoever would listen at the time, feeling like things would never be the same, and in a way, I was right. But it wasn't like I was a small child. I was in high school. Still, I was a deeply mentally unwell young lady and I did have a lot of trouble grappling with change because of my autism, so this moment really just hit harder than it maybe would've someone else.

I think that's partly what first drew me to LucasArts title "Lucidity" back in the day, when I was first introduced to it through the Xbox 360 Arcade. Aside from being interested in this type of game, and aside from the absolutely beautiful almost hand crafted material, what really drew me to the game was its bare bones description of guiding a young girl through a world of platformesque muzzles while she copes with the loss of her grandmother. I don't necessarily consider this a spoiler, but I've spoiler tagged it nonetheless out of respect for anyone who might be interested in playing this title and hasn't yet, so click at your own risk I suppose.

Anyway, it's an extremely simple and basic game when it comes to the terms of gameplay itself. You simply place pieces in front of Sofi while she walks through dreamlike wonderlands so she can reach the end, hopefully keeping her out of harms way. She moves constantly to the right on her own, so you're not controlling her as much as you are controlling the environment around her, guiding her to some sort of peaceful resolution. And that's where the sadness of Lucidity comes in, because that's really kind of how it is. Take it from a 30 year old remembering being a 16 year old who was terrified because she couldn't handle how things had changed since she was a 5 year old, that's what you do. You push yourself further and further into your fantasies to cradle yourself away from the reality of something you either don't understand, can't understand or refuse to understand.

But try as you might, you cannot escape it, and eventually are forced to face it one way or another. That's the thing about grief, it can be handled in many different ways, all eventually leading either to more pain or recovery, depending on how you go about processing it and what you do with it once it's been processed. So taking the concept of grief, especially in the form of a small child, and making the metaphorical puzzle into a literal puzzle, is really kind of brilliant. Unfortunately, aside from the visuals (which admittedly are a personal thing, I recognize not every visual style will please everyone), and the great concept itself, the gameplay really lacks and it's here where Lucidity sadly stumbles. I get what they were going for. Hell, I even respect it, but it just doesn't really work because, while you could do this in a way that WOULD be fun and engaging and even somewhat challenging, they DIDN'T.

People have always criticized Sonic The Hedgehog games as the "move right to win" but honestly, I feel that criticism was always wildly unwarranted. There were always multiple branching pathways to get you to your final destination and, sure, you always wound up at the same place no matter which way you went, that's still a choice you get to make. Here is not the case. Sofi is predetermined to reach this place, and you can put things down in front of her to help her reach it or not and let her fail. That's not really choice. That's the concept of choice. And while the gameplay is the only really flaw in this otherwise marvelous little piece of art, I've always held fast to the belief that gameplay, in the end, is what really truly matters. A good story helps. Visuals, to a lot of people, matter a lot. But it's gameplay that determines whether you really enjoy engaging with this thing, and frankly, I didn't and it seems lots of people didn't.

Lucidity is not so much a game as just a piece of art you semi experience, and, again, I can appreciate and respect that, especially given what it's trying to say. But in the end, you still have to make it, if you're going to market is a game as it was done so, fun to play and they didn't. Grief is a funny thing. I've worked through a lot of it in just the 30 years I've been on this miserable stinking dirtball of a planet, and a lot of it was very tough and even more of it I'm still working through. But the thing about grief, and you may notice this as a recurring theme for games I review at this point, is that it's a great jumping off point for art, which games can be. I've worked through a lot of my grief because of art that deals with grief. While, at this stage in my life, I certainly don't cry myself to sleep over my grandmothers death anymore, I still hurt from it, but there's far better pieces to take in that deal with the same concepts in a less clunky and more entertaining way.

Do not get me wrong. Lucidity is not bad if you look at for what it is. But don't think it's a video game, because it really isn't. It's just a sad little tale that somewhat employs you to be a guide for this girl for a short period of time, and that's trying to convey what grief can look like to a child, a little girl in particular, which I personally experience all too often sad to say. It rings fairly true. I withdrew into myself and I created my own worlds and universes where nothing could hurt me, no one could leave me, but it didn't fix me. Not really. Because, in the end, I was still grieving. It just delayed the inevitable healing process. All that being said, I still enjoyed "playing" it if only because I felt like I should help Sofi work through her puzzle box of death and grief, and if only because nobody ever did the same for me.

I guess I was wrong. I guess it WAS somewhat engaging. But it's a very personal type of engagement. But then, it's all grief personal? I think it is.