Keeper review: "One of the most wonderfully bizarre games I've ever played – a stunning slice of magic"

I underestimated Keeper, and having played many, many Double Fine games, I really shouldn't have. What I expected to be a funny little tale about a lighthouse coming to life and finding a friend in a scatty seabird became an entirely unexpected journey. OK, yes, it still is a funny little tale about a lighthouse and a seabird, but it's far more complicated than that.

The hardest part about talking about Keeper is that I want to be a keeper of its secrets. This magical, mysterious game isn't long – I logged around 8 hours by the time the credits rolled – but I'd hate for anyone to ruin its surprises. What I will spoil is that I've fallen in love with a lighthouse. Double Fine manages to imbue what's essentially a walking desk lamp with so much emotion and personality, I doubt I'll stop thinking about it for a long time. Through everything that this gangly guy goes through, you feel every early stumble and dramatic moment without ever missing a facial expression.

This is a game without a single word of dialogue, not so much as a whiff of a goal or mission log, or even really an understanding of what you're even meant to be doing. You're just a lighthouse called Keeper that's come to life, learned to walk, and has the power of light to interact with the world. Twig, your seabird pal, can help too, flying off to pull levers, turn cranks, or yank usual items from even more unusual foliage. It's a partnership, both between Keeper and Twig, but also you, the player, because this game is all about discovery and not just figuring out the why, but the how too.

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Shine the light

This game tells you very, very little and that's a big part of its charm. All you really know when the game starts is that something is attacking the birds. Swarms of what look almost like electronic bugs are plaguing the land as part of something you'll later find out is called the Wither. And that's only something I really learned from achievement pops rather than anything in-game. Certainly another unexpected element of the game's ability to do storytelling through any medium but the spoken word. Keeper's sweeping searchlight can combat the Wither, though, pushing back the swarms and melting pulsating tentacles and other facets of this plague to free the other creatures that live in this beautiful, bizarre world.

But that's basically all you know, and even that understanding comes in waves, luring you in through fragments of knowledge you gain along the way. But then, it also doesn't really matter. The charm of just tottering along on unfamiliar legs through the world is initially enough to keep pushing you forward. Outside of protection, your light does so much to interact with the world; it's far too easy to lose track of time just shining it around to see what impact you have. Flowers will bloom and cast neon glows against painterly caves, anemone-like plants spring to life and summon funny little guys for their supper. Others dance in the beam as it falls on them, while big-eyed critters blink and turn away. It's an alien world, but you almost feel alien within it, so much of what happens is delightfully unexpected.

There are subtle nods to try and guide you towards your next destination, but they're easily missed. I won't lie, there were a few moments where I was left scratching my head, wondering where I was going wrong. There are no camera controls in Keeper. It's all very simple – movement on the left stick and your light on the right. A squeeze of the right trigger lets you focus your light for enhanced power. At some points, but not always, you can jump. There's a particularly magical part where the lighthouse gets covered in small pink clouds, like you've been rolled in candyfloss, which gives you the ability to leap around in low gravity. But because you have limited control of how you look around in-game, it's fairly easy to miss an entranceway or other nook that's hiding the thing, critter, or waypoint you need. It's fairly frustrating sometimes, but it's also part of its ethos. You've just got to take another look and eventually things make themselves clear.

Searching

Thankfully, this world is a joy to explore. It's got this handmade element to it, almost like it's made in Media Molecule's Dreams. These landscapes are rustic, pastoral, but also otherworldly. The blushing candy floss level transitions to the greys and muddy browns of rain-soaked nature, while elsewhere, what I can only describe as psychedelic canyons provide an epic contrast to the mossy rolling hills and icy terrains.

Keeper does well to highlight how it works with the landscapes too, regularly playing with perspectives and angles to highlight the depth and beauty of its world. There are so many tiny scuttling critters lurking on ledges and landmasses, too, that I start to understand why the game starts with a warning for arachnophobics. There's so much to take in that again it's easy to lose track of what you're doing just watching the antics of Keeper's cast of whimsy.

There's no death, no actual combat, just discovery, exploration, and eventually working out what the heck you're working towards. Maybe you'll get a bit lost here and there, but as I emotionally watched the credits roll it really didn't matter. Keeper is one of the most wonderfully bizarre games I've ever played. It's a slice of magic, set in a stunning, playful world that will constantly surprise you – from how the smallest flower reacts to your light to the big beats that made me laugh out loud. Read nothing. Play Keeper.

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