Ori and the Blind Forest Review

 (Originally published to Glitchwave on 1/30/2023)

[Image from glitchwave.com]

Ori and the Blind Forest

Developer: Moon Studios

Publisher: Microsoft Studios

Genre(s): Metroidvania

Platforms: PC, Xbox One, Switch

Release Date: March 11, 2015

With a name like Ori and the Blind Forest, one can infer that the game is filled with a grand sense of whimsy and adventure. It’s a title for an unpublished C.S. Lewis book or the album title of a progressive rock band. It alludes to the promise of an epic journey that can only exist in the realm of a fantasy world. Austrian indie developer Moon Studios thought it wise to design their fanciful creation in the Metroidvania genre, a prevalent trend among many indie titles in the mid to late 2010s. Typically, games in this niche sub-sector of 2D platformers are fairly confined to claustrophobic spaces consisting of walls that hinder the player’s freedom to progress as they please. At least, this is the design philosophy Nintendo spurred for their immortal Metroid series, the undisputed godfather of the Metroidvania subgenre. The “blind forest” part of the game’s title may connote a blinding darkness that could appropriately convey the same sense of tension and dread similar to Metroid. However, the developers of Ori and the Blind Forest wanted to present a sprawling untapped landscape for the player to marvel at. While one could argue that Metroid achieves this through its wearisome “stranger in a strange land” initiative, that doesn’t seem to be the direction Ori’s developers wished to take with their approach to the Metroidvania game. Given that the genre’s gameplay tropes are rooted in Metroid’s oppressive weight, aren’t all Metroidvania games inherently limited to the scope that Metroid laid out? Wouldn’t Ori and the Blind Forest be more suitable for the open-world genre with more liberal boundaries? By 2015, the Metroidvania genre hit a conceptual peak, and the genre’s evolution transcended the cramped atmosphere associated with its inception. As early as Symphony of the Night, Metroidvania games proved to be expansive as an open-world game, even with the choice parameters these kinds of games uphold. In fact, Ori and the Blind Forest is a Metroidvania game that challenges the preconceived limitations of the Metroidvania genre. Ori and the Blind Forest presents a world that demands to be explored thoroughly, and the Metroidvania genre is the perfect venue for the developers to implore the player to absorb the full extent of the game’s artistic achievements.

As par for the course, the narrative of a fantasy tale needs to be opulent to accommodate the realm. The eponymous Ori is a luminescent, simian/feline forest nymph adopted by the fuzzy, rotund Naru, who resembles a bear if a bear had an unnaturally friendly demeanor and wore a mask. A booming omniscient narrator details these two's simple, happy life in a montage consisting of picking berries, cuddly cat naps, and Naru flinging Ori up and down like an infant child. The opening sequence of the game is reminiscent of the beginning of the acclaimed Pixar film Up, a highlight reel that condenses the storied relationship between two people over a lengthy period. Also, like Up, the sequence ends in tragedy as Ori returns from her daily berry retrieval to find that her wooly guardian has died. Naru’s death was a premature occurrence as the forest they reside in is in a destitute state of decay and it's the dearth of natural resources had caused it to die of starvation. The feeble Ori is alone and helpless, passing out from exhaustion. Even though things look grim, Ori is resuscitated by the fabled Spirit Tree and is set on a quest to restore the prosperous state of the forest by collecting the three elements located on opposite corners of the land. Ori’s introduction wonderfully sets the scene by juxtaposing the humdrum happiness of life before the disastrous event and the severity of the situation Ori is left with afterward. If the opening was paced a little more languidly, the scene could’ve been as devastating to the player as the infamous opening sequence to the Pixar film that was previously mentioned.

Immediately, the player can easily see that Ori and the Blind Forest is a gorgeous game. No matter where Ori is on the map, the individual districts that makeup Nibel Forest are as immaculate as an impressionistic painting. Ori’s forest is a lush, splendorous wooded world whose beauty can be attributed to the meticulous effort of visual fidelity and detail from the developers. Each shot from every angle displays a lavish background that shows the scope of the setting, supporting its overwhelming magnificence. Even in more cramped spaces like caves where the outside world is obscured by walls of earth, the looping area is spacious enough to still retain that resplendent scope. Foreground settings are so intricate that the player can ascertain every wrinkle in the wood, every crag on a cliffside, and every buoyant bubble in the various bodies of water. Color and lighting choices are consistently lurid and never clash with Ori’s bright, white presence, so the player never has trouble seeing her. Impressive as the visuals might be superficial, what interests me more is how the game uses its presentation to convey mood. As early as the menu screen, The Spirit Tree, the zenith point of the entire forest, is used as a visual refrain throughout the game, a point of reference for scoping out the breadth of the forest and the land’s state of being. The game’s menu presents the widened scope of the mystical tree with the looming mountain tops in the background supported by the aura of a tangerine-colored sunset, a scene suitable for the subject of a work from Degas. Once the player pushes start, the shift of tranquil end of the day turns to a frightening, blustery night that illustrates Naru’s adoption of little Ori as a valiant rescue mission. The joyous comradery between Ori and Naru during their time together is illustrated by a clear, sunny afternoon atmosphere. Naru’s death scene is blanketed by a sheet of blue melancholy. The opening sequence exudes a strong enough impression with its color choices that, for the rest of the game, any scene or environment that faintly shares the same shade triggers a particular emotion in the player.

The game’s eye-catching visuals are enough to entice the player to explore every crevice of the map. Still, the inherent design of a Metroidvania game will foster this anyways, especially if it's a selling point for fans of the genre. Ori’s world is separated into various districts like most Metroidvania titles, and each of these areas has a myriad of distinguishable topographical features. The starting point of the Sunken Glades is a depleted mire that I would describe as dismal if not for the striking purple aura surrounding it. Ascending from the Glades to the grand peak where the Spirit Tree lies is the Spirit Caverns, and a change in elevation marked by steeper terrain and brighter sunlight signals a steady rate of progression. The Moon Grotto is beautifully illuminated by the sparse sunlight that seeps through its sheet of thick foliage, and the Thornfelt Swamp houses a voluminous pool of water so clear that the player would be tempted to drink it (I still wouldn’t). The pea-soup fog surrounding the Misty Woods is thick enough to obscure it on the map, leaving the player to their own devices to navigate this oddity of an area. Forlorn Ruins in the icy mountains is a marriage of the primitive and the futuristic, with anti-gravity platforms serving as a unique gimmick. The two previously mentioned districts show the player that they offer more than video game eye candy. The extended optional areas of Black Root Burrows and Lost Grove are highlights due to their particular inclusion. The Burrows can be accessed even before Ori stands before the Spirit Tree, but the absolute jet-black darkness of the area should give the player the impression that they should be visited at a later date, a tried and true mark of Metroidvania-level progression. Once the player is ready to blindly lead Ori into the darkness, the challenge of liminal sight pays off with the breathtaking beach shore of the Lost Grove at a dead end. The progression of this optional area reminds me of the connection path of The Great Hollow leading into Ash Lake from the first Dark Souls. Their inclusion wasn’t entirely necessary, but the additional venture paid off wonderfully with what seemed like an astounding secret. Nibel Forest is as eclectic as it is attractive, so much so that the developers decided it would be practical to have the player stand in awe of its full glory when they zoom out on the map screen. I think seeing the entirety of the map would be more practical, considering how vast the world is.

As captivating as Nibel Forest is, it’s still the grounds of a hostile wilderness. After the opening cutscene, the primary source of initial conflict is how poor little Ori will survive the uncaring forest elements without Naru's burly, loving arms to protect her. Fortunately for Ori, the game conveniently provides Sein as her new guardian to accompany her on her quest. Sein is a sentient light spirit assigned by the Spirit Tree who is so microscopic that its only discernible feature is its glow like someone is poorly aiming a laser pointer over Ori’s shoulders for the entire game. Sein is the minimal guide and the voice for the mute protagonist. By this description, everyone who played Ocarina of Time and still suffers from Navi PTSD just clicked off this review in a rush. Fear not, for unlike Navi, Sein is a functional tool imperative to Ori’s gameplay. Sein acts as the game’s combat mechanic by spurting blasts of spirit energy at enemies. These bursts can either be administered in rapid-fire spurts or by holding down the ball of energy to engorge Sein and release it as a stronger, loud blast.



One would think that Ori would be doomed as a tasty snack without Sein, but the cute, cherubic creature is capable of more than someone would initially think. Ori’s prime strength is her nimble dexterity. Platformer characters' controls should feel polished, given the accuracy needed to perform acts such as jumping onto platforms, and Ori is so smooth that it seems like her glow is due to being slathered in butter. Most of her full potential is subdued at first because of the cumulative nature of the Metroidvania title, but plenty of her growing pains still show promise. Before climbing up surfaces and other inclines, she can scale up them simply by jumping at a rhythmic pace, which achieves the same effect. She can jump a total of three times at her maximum level, but the single jump ability at the start is breezy enough for a fair range with effortless accuracy. Abilities such as the bash can launch the projectiles from enemies back at them for severe damage, and the ground pound shakes off enemies' defenses and shatters vulnerable openings. Ori still probably can’t fend for herself entirely without Sein, but at least her own offensive moves do enough to diversify the combat. Ori’s extra abilities are unlocked via Ancestral Trees: glowing miniature trees located across the map that grant Ori a different ability with a stream of cleansing water and light. Experience points are earned by defeating enemies and collecting orbs, and the player uses these points to upgrade Ori’s abilities in three separate chains. Unlike Dark Souls, the player doesn’t have to commit to one category as they’ll most likely earn enough experience throughout the game to maximize Ori’s well-roundedness. The game does its duty as a Metroidvania title by making Ori feel impervious by the end of the game, and it’s relieving that Ori is already competent enough at the start.

However, competency isn’t enough to overcome the obstacles presented in Nibel Forest. Even for a Metroidvania title, Ori and the Blind Forest has a strange difficulty curve. Checkpoints earned through achievement in any other game are manually used by the player at any time as long as they have enough energy and are in a spot without any danger in their direct vicinity. The checkpoint is represented by the Spirit Flame, a fiery blue figment that serves as a reference point. Checkpoint wells where the player can warp are also present, but most likely, the player will use the Spirit Flame more often because of its convenience. However, the player always has to remind themselves to save often because one deadly mistake can reverse the player’s progress back to god knows how long. Multiple collectibles have been lost due to not keeping track of saving, which isn’t a concern in most other games. Puzzles in the game are relatively straightforward, but the true tests in proficiency revolve around the player’s skill with Ori’s abilities. Prickly vegetation is an obstacle seen as a dangerous obstacle that depletes Ori’s health, appropriate for a woodland setting. More artificial inhibitors, like the influx of lasers seen around the map, will kill Ori on contact, and both are implemented everywhere. The game also seems to enjoy implementing sections where the player has to endure a series of gymnastics without the privilege of saving at every step as the climax for each element is obtained. Not only do they present blasts of energy and thorns galore, but there is always a special aspect of strain that Ori must race over, like the rising water in the Ginso Tree and the erosion of the Sorrow’s Pass. During these sections, the player must use a combination of the bash, dash, and Kuro’s feather with split precision to escape with Ori intact. For a game where the player can save whenever they please, it still forces the player to prove their might.

The environment will most likely be the only substantial hurdle in the game because the enemies can be brushed off. Usually, the most disconcerting aspect of being in the woods is a frightful encounter with the untamed wildlife, but the creatures that reside in Nibel Forest barely have a vicious bone in their bodies. Creatures like the sluggish (no pun intended) crawlers remind me of similar enemies from Metroid, docile cannon fodder usually engaged with for repleting ammo. Hoppers and Darkwings will attack Ori dead-on, but their jumping trajectory is too obvious, leaving themselves vulnerable for too long. Dealing with Spitters is a matter of bashing their constant spit streams, and the other projectile-spewing enemies like Mortar Worms and Arachne feel more like a part of a platforming section rather than a standard enemy. In fact, the only instances where the enemies in the game are a pain to deal with is if they are placed inconveniently in a tight platforming section. Also, the game is lacking in area-specific creatures that fit a specific climate. Does it make sense that Hoppers can live in both the Forlorn Ruins' frigid peaks and the humid Thornfelt Swamp? I think the lackluster roster of enemies is the reason why Ori and the Blind Forest don’t have any boss battles. However, Kuro the Bird is almost imposing enough in the scheme of the narrative to compensate. Kuro is a colossal owl (or perhaps colossal on the small scale of the forest) whose shadowy, deep indigo coloring and giant stature make her utterly terrifying. On top of that, she’s also got malicious intent behind those unnaturally white-hot eyes as she stalks Ori with a vengeance, as her perusal is the subject of many frantic escape sequences. Sein believes that Koru is just a blind, malevolent force, but we learn that her true motive for hunting Ori is because the Spirit Tree killed three out of four of her children during the process of finding Ori in the introduction. Once we learn this, Koru’s intentions are understood, and we give her some leeway with her will to keep the last remaining of her eggs out of harm's way. The sympathetic villain trope is prevalent in Ori and the Blind Forest, as the same can be applied to the gangly, mischievous Gumo, who inconveniences Ori with his tomfoolery because he’s profoundly lonely due to his entire kind being wiped out.

As much as I can appreciate the angle at which the game approaches its villains, I still wanted just one boss fight to satiate my gaming needs. Unfortunately, even in the climax, the game still leaves me unsatisfied. After retrieving the three elements, Ori ascends past the peak of Hollow Grove to Mount Horu. This volcanic ruin screams “final level” from its harrowing summit, with safe ground sparsely placed amongst lava constantly spurting like an everflowing stream. Individual rooms of the ruins offer some of the steepest, puzzling challenges that put all of Ori’s skills to work with only marginal room for error. After draining the lava and reaching the apex point, Koru confronts Ori again, and it’s yet another chase sequence. It’s certainly the tensest and longest of these various sections, but I wish Ori had fought back and made Sein create a wrecking ball-sized orb of energy and blasted it in Kuro's face. As it is, Ori evades the dark bird’s clutches and restores the sacred elements to the Spirit Tree, restoring balance to Nibel Forest and disintegrating Koru with a revitalizing supernova of light. The defeat of the game’s main antagonist is always a satisfactory wrapping point for any fantasy narrative. Still, Ori and the Blind Forest decide to cap off Ori’s grand adventure with a cop-out. Apparently, the restorative energy released by the Spirit Tree resurrected Naru, and Naru, Gumo, and Ori will raise Kuro’s surviving egg as their own. As sweet as some might find this ending to be, it compromises on the emotional weight that served as an effective catalyst when the game began. As a result, the impact of Naru’s death is negated entirely. Ori caring for the creature incubating in the egg herself would’ve been a better resolution. Doing so would’ve illustrated her growth throughout the journey, for once she needed to be protected, and now she’s fulfilling the parental role. For a title whose gameplay emphasizes aggregate character growth, the ending sullies it with a stark regression.

Ori and the Blind Forest is a game that sufficiently exudes all of the awe-inspiring wonders one would associate with its title. Every frame of the game’s arboreal world could be framed and displayed in the Louvre. The exploration initiative found in the Metroidvania genre incentivizes the player to uncover every beautiful inch of it. All the while, the picturesque setting houses a splendidly diverse and challenging environment with one of the most agile and precious video game protagonists to ever hop across a series of platforms. While Ori and the Blind Forest succeeds in offering a solid Metroidvania experience with flying colors, some aspects of the game feel as if the developers were a bit hesitant. I can’t say if they dialed back the combat and narrative weight to appeal to a younger, more impressionable demographic or if the lighthearted fantasy world they created didn’t foster bleak tones or bloody battles. I wholeheartedly disagree if it’s the latter, as they would’ve enhanced the player’s immersion, or at least they would’ve enhanced mine.