No. Wait! Let me just–
I can see those bubbles up there. Every time I play this level I see them up there. Every time I play this level I miss them because I choose my downward route too soon and there’s no way to get back up to them. They know this of course, as they sit up there on that ledge remaining intact. I’ll get them eventually. They task me, and I shall have them.
There’s so much to collect in this world. I don’t even know why I care. I don’t decorate anything. Not my world. Or my moon. Or whatever. I haven’t even explored what there is to decorate other than my sackboy. And now that I’ve got him suited up with a nifty warm cap and a smart hula skirt and sensible hiking boots, I’m not really interested in redecorating him either. Other than decorating, I’m not really sure what the point of all this collecting is. Nor do I care. I love collecting these stupid little bubbles and objects. What’s cool about the best of these levels is that you can see the objects you’re missing, and you get the sense that with just one more try you’ll get those bubbles you missed in that drop this time. In this way the levels echo some of what’s nifty about the story levels. So much replayability.
Today’s level, For Vanished Heights, had a fair amount of this going on and that kept me coming back. I found this one in the Highest Rated section for the month. The writing in the level’s messages was weird, as indicated by the level details:
Shrill on the wind, a maiden’s voice calls… The ephemeral world twists and shatters. The voyage begins…
That’s okay. A little clunky writing can’t hurt a level like this.
I just wish I could figure out why collecting these little bubbles–which remind me of recently uncovered ancient piranha eggs–is so addicting.