Replaying Hyper Light Drifter

Steven Santana

Steven Santana

— 4 min read
The drifter stands on the edge of a cliff looking into the distance at a giant humanoid skeleton that is leaning against a mountain and is covered in snow and decaying

[Today marks 10 years since the release of Hyper Light Drifter. Special thanks to Artemis Octavio for their edits/suggestions on this piece.]

I did not play it while I was sick. I did not play it preceding or during or after a death. Playing it did not teach me about myself or about others or about society. It captures not a moment, but a feeling. Were I to make a pie graph of what constitutes that feeling, it would be dominated by Disasterpiece's music. Not to discriminate against the other contributors; were it only a soundtrack it would not have the effect it does as a videogame. Qualitatively self-evident music working in cooperation with (now) typically gorgeous pixel art atypically dominated by tones of purple and a highly inscrutable narrative are what make Hyper Light Drifter essential.

Aching yet hopeful. Adventurous yet mournful. You peck at the bones of the world after it has ended. The post post-apocalypse. And the corpses are literal. Each of the four cardinal areas you reave contain a decaying giant skeleton, heralds of the end directly pulled from Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind.[1] They either became part of the landscape (ribs protrude out of the soil in a forest, one leans as if resting against a mountain) or have forced the landscape to be formed around it (drowned and clawing for air). One has been dissected, a defiance of their lingering and hallowed presence elsewhere. Its organs twisted into birthing the beasts you have fought. Each area is enveloped in tragedy and none are told in familiar text. There is no dialogue, voiced or penned.[2] You only ever receive images. Images that tell the story of a people who once were and no longer are. How they defeated the colossus in catastrophic ways. And now here you are, to pick at what remains. Whether it be gold for trade, glyphs for translation, or keys for doors. You are not here to avenge that which once was, though it may be a side effect of your cause. Restoration is not possible. You yourself are soon to be extinguished. Frequently coughing up blood and experiencing visions of death at the hands of a malignant, amorphous monster. Potentially a manifestation of your sickness, one that psychically attacks you whenever you make progress and waits for you at the bottom of the world.

The drifter speaks to another survivor at their camp as the survivor recounts how they defeated the giant humanoid that was burning their forest using a crystal based weapon, further slides (not shown) reveal that their weapon defeated the colossus but also infected the land with crystals that cannot be removed and regrow when slashed

There is nothing complex about playing Hyper Light Drifter. Secrets are signposted with small symbols on the ground for the observant. Combat is rhythmic. Three steady swipes of your sword and a brief rest after. Each gun has a different fire rate, damage output, and range. Additional skills to increase the possible notes and tempo are available for purchase. Frequently, the real challenge is held for the after. Every cardinal area has nodes, of which only 3 out of 8 are required to challenge the boss, whose defeat grants access to a node corresponding to a central one necessary to reach the finale. Depending on how thorough you were in your explorations of this dead land, there will be a doorway and behind that door will be a sequence of challenges. Maybe a little platforming, maybe waves of enemies, and maybe a little bit of both. The entire game is authored and intended as a one-and-done experience. You are not revisiting formerly cleared spaces to clear them once again. These epilogue pieces of content are a little treat for players who desire more. Who wants more opportunities to play, to fight, to exist within the game.

I want to continue existing within this space, which is why I find myself replaying every other year. Listening to the soundtrack is not enough. I want to climb and see the land opening up before me as the music crescendos. I want to fight and come out unscathed, to earn the animation that will play after a key battle in which The Drifter slams his sword into the ground to punctuate it. I want to hear all the sound effects that accompany your movement. The beeps of your little helper robot, loading a platform to take you into the underground or ascend from it. The toom of a node being activated. Disasterpiece backs my every step, my journey repeats with little variation, my death is the final reward for my labor. My contribution to this world is open ended, its land and people cannot be restored, and yet here I am to replay and relive it just as I did a decade ago, just as I will a decade from now, to live in its consonancy.[3]

A giant humanoid colossus has green plants growing over its skin as the top of its head and part of its right hand reaches out of the water as if it was drowned
  1. ↩︎ Countless games name Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind as “one of inspiration” but very few capture that film/manga’s majesty and remorseful mood, Hyper Light Drifter is more successful than most.
  2. ↩︎ Heart Machine’s subsequent games, Solar Ash and Hyper Light Breaker, would bear explicit dialogue, text, narrative. Not that I prescribe sticking with the inexplicable, it just sharpens the line delineating Drifter from the rest of their works. I hope one day to detail my belief that Sable is on the same frequency as Hyper Light Drifter despite its explicit narrative components.
  3. ↩︎ Pentiment and Disco Elysium are other works I find equally, if not more, cogent. Games created with a clear vision by artists sharing and accomplishing that purpose.

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