A decade ago, an exceptional video game presented a monumental personal challenge that left an indelible mark on my gaming experience. As a relatively fresh-faced 24-year-old, yet to be jaded by the demanding world of games media, I found myself utterly captivated by “The Witness.” Its island setting, teeming with intricate maze-like puzzles, pulled me in completely. My insatiable appetite for its intellectual delights continued unabated until I encountered its ultimate test. While technically optional, for me, bypassing it was simply not an option. This formidable obstacle, a true brick wall of a conundrum, relentlessly sapped my mental energy with each failed attempt. However, the sheer exhilaration of finally conquering it was a sensation unlike almost anything else I’d ever experienced in gaming—a feeling akin to the profound satisfaction a hardened Soulslike player achieves after hours of struggle culminating in the defeat of a seemingly insurmountable boss. To this day, it remains the single most challenging trophy I have ever earned, and consequently, my most cherished PlayStation platinum. Yet, beyond the digital accolade proudly displayed in my account, it is the visceral emotional impact of that moment that truly resonates, a thrill I have been relentlessly pursuing ever since.
Jonathan Blow’s 2016 independent masterpiece, “The Witness,” is replete with hidden depths. The more you explore its enigmatic island, the more layers of complexity unfold. At its core, the premise appears straightforward: solve the electronic-screen-bound digital mazes within each distinct biome to unravel the island’s central mystery. Each biome introduces its own unique set of rules. Fundamentally, all puzzles involve tracing a line between a starting point and an endpoint on a grid, but simplicity is a rare commodity. The clues necessary for a successful path are invariably present, whether subtly reflected in the sun’s gleam off the ocean or audibly in the chattering wildlife recordings among the trees. These primary areas generally remain manageable. However, venture off the well-trodden path, and the game’s true nature begins to reveal itself.
The game becomes undeniably demanding, yet paradoxically, it maintains a certain tranquility. The absence of distracting music or immediate threats creates a soothing atmosphere, helping to alleviate the inevitable mental strain. This sense of calm persists until you uncover its darkest secret and decide to embark on its devilishly difficult final challenge. As its creator, Jonathan Blow, aptly articulated to Kotaku in 2016, “Just like a legitimate puzzle is only a puzzle if you might never figure it out, a legitimate challenge is only a challenge if you might never beat it.” This sentiment perfectly encapsulates the experience.
There is no shortcut or easy bypass for this final, mind-bending gauntlet. Solutions cannot be looked up, nor can any shortcuts be taken, as each maze within the challenge is randomly generated. To gain entry to the tomb-like structure at the end of this winding cavern, you must solve puzzles that are freshly created at the start of every attempt. But even before you can attempt to solve them, you must first locate them; the initial battle involves finding each and every maze scattered throughout the cave, with brainteasers cleverly hidden high up and wrapped around pillars. By this stage in the game, players will have a firm grasp of the various puzzle types and the rules governing their solutions. However, applying that knowledge under pressure is an entirely different proposition.
This task would be difficult enough with ample time for contemplation, but that would be far too easy. Instead, this challenge imposes a strict time limit of just under 400 seconds – precisely the duration it takes for two classical compositions, “In the Hall of the Mountain King” and “Anitra’s Dance,” to play consecutively on a gramophone, serving as a final, somewhat pretentious flourish. Within this timeframe, all 14 puzzles must be solved, leaving less than half a minute for each. These are not simple A-to-B line traces; rather, they are complex labyrinths incorporating some of the island’s most intricate rulesets, featuring symbols, colors, and other devious tricks that defy brute-force solutions. And should you dare to pause the game to even consider taking notes, you are instantly forced to restart from the very beginning.
It is a brutal yet brilliant ultimate test within a true masterpiece. “The Witness” offers players the opportunity to engage with it at whatever level of depth they choose. One could follow its critical path, reach the main credits, and feel entirely satisfied. Alternatively, one can look beyond the obvious, diverting their gaze from the immediate puzzle boards and into the expansive world itself, tracing lines across architectural elements and even into the sun. Further immersion can be found in its subtle narrative elements, uncovering allegorical messages woven throughout. Then there are those, like myself and the mere 9.75% of players who have done so, who choose to fully exhaust its potential: allowing that final puzzle to stretch their sanity to its absolute limits, all while convincing themselves that the surge of dopamine accompanying a digital platinum trophy on screen makes it all worthwhile.
Ever since “The Witness,” I have been on a continuous quest for a puzzle game of comparable caliber. I have certainly enjoyed titles such as “The Talos Principle,” “Manifold Garden,” “Lorelei and the Laser Eyes,” and “Blue Prince,” among others. However, it is the recent release of “Big Walk” that has most powerfully reawakened those original synaptic sparks. House House’s cooperative adventure unfolds on a similarly mysterious island, populated by its own unique puzzles. While it doesn’t appear quite as demanding as “The Witness”—though I am still in its early stages and may yet regret this assertion—it nonetheless evokes that same profound sense of cerebral discovery.
More significantly, it transports me even further back to some of my earliest and most cherished video game memories. As a young boy, I would spend countless weekend afternoons watching my father navigate “Myst,” “Riven,” and their subsequent iterations on a bulky PC monitor. Little did I know then that this was the genesis of a path that would eventually lead me into the depths of “The Witness’s” mountain. I suppose I owe him a debt of gratitude. Incidentally, I was genuinely saddened to learn that Cyan Worlds’ latest sequel project had been shelved, especially as it looked incredibly promising from the teaser trailer released by the developers. It’s a true shame that it appears destined to remain unreleased, as I would have loved to play it and share a copy with my father, a lapsed gamer, who I am certain would have delighted in returning to the world of “Myst” once more.
Of course, since 2016, many have eclipsed my achievement, with speedruns now available demonstrating completion of the challenge in a mere 80 seconds. While admittedly disheartening to witness such mastery, I remain immensely proud of my accomplishment, valuing it as perhaps my most euphoric video game moment. I did experience faint mental echoes of that challenge last year when I subjected myself to “Death Stranding 2’s” most stressful test: a delivery circling the entire circumference of Australia, which had to be completed in under 40 minutes. My first attempt ended in frustration as I became stranded on a rock halfway, missing the deadline by a mere six seconds. The impulse to hurl my PS5 out the window was almost overwhelming. Fortunately, half an hour later, I succeeded, securing that Platinum trophy alongside it.
So, I pose the question: What is the most significant challenge you have ever conquered in a video game? Have you been relentlessly pursuing that same thrill ever since, or do you prefer to simply revel in the glory of past triumphs? I like to believe I’ve matured and no longer have time for such arduous pursuits. Yet, deep down, I know with absolute certainty that if I were to step back onto that island, I would embark on the journey all over again.
