LIMBO: A Masterclass in Subtle Storytelling

LIMBO is one of the greatest indie games I’ve ever played. Originally appearing on the Xbox 360 as an arcade title, I recently purchased it on Steam for 99 cents, and went through the game once more after many years. LIMBO has made the rounds across multiple platforms to what I would consider a cult following. A simple 2-D puzzle game with a monochromatic color palette that evokes emotions and feelings in myself and many others even to this day. I talked about how the Dark Souls series does the same thing; how I can become so engrossed in the world that I feel the need to pseudo role play as my character; treating the conversations I am having as if I was there myself. And while this game makes me do the same thing, it’s for much different reasons. A simple concept, but behind what’s displayed in front of you, is an entire world of subtle storytelling, without so much as a single word uttered throughout the whole game. So today, I wanted to take some time to just gush about LIMBO and its Masterclass act of subtle storytelling, through world presentation.

I: The Boy

We start the game with our protagonist, a Child; nameless, just a silhouette, with bright white eyes. Waking up in some tall grass. Immediately, we begin to ask questions. Who is this child? Where is he, how did he get here? The only thing we do know from the one sentence description of the game, is the child is looking for his sister. That’s all the information we have. The world around us is a mix of dark and bright; light and black. Some of the bright spots are intense and can be harsh on the eyes, and the dark spots are crushed, staring deep into oblivion. The controls are incredibly simple; move, jump, and interact. That’s it. The world we are thrust into is one that can only be described as a sort of space between worlds. It’s not reflective of anything that you might see in your day-to-day life, but between the sections of the game, lie hints of life, and other people being a part of this space alongside you. And other things as well. However, there is nothing here that I would consider friendly, or inviting to The Boy. He is alone, without so much of a word spoken. Everyone he sees or comes across wants him gone, or worse, dead. You pilot him in hopes of reuniting him with his sister, and that won’t be an easy task. While LIMBO is just a puzzle game, it doesn’t shy away from putting The Boy’s life at risk many times over. Many different fatal deaths await The Boy should your decision making be poor or untimely. And he doesn’t die gracefully. But if there is one thing, I can commend The Boy on, it is his absolute stalwart indomitable will. He refuses to give up. I understand that’s because as the player, we just reset a little behind where we left off. But there is something inspiring to see this young kid just keep pushing forward, despite all the odds he faces in his journey. A massive spider, many different native folks to the areas, mechanical contraptions, electricity, insects, guns and anything that you would expect a child to be afraid of, are thrown in his face tenfold, and he can just persevere though it all in the hopes of seeing his sister, one more time.

II: Questions

I think the first question we all had when we played this game was, did The Boy die? Is this some kind of purgatory? Why are there others here who are hostile to only him? Who built the mechanical contraptions? Unfortunately, none of these questions get answered, nor do we get any kind of hints. Which leads people to form their own conclusions. Anything you come up with is on the table. But the idea of this place being somewhere in between the living and the dead sounds right. Especially considering the world around The Boy continually changes rapidly as he advances on his journey. And the backgrounds add so much value to the story. It’s here where my habit of getting really into the character begins to take shape. Quick side note, if you also do this when you play games and you get emotional and invested in what you see, please leave a comment down below. I really hope I’m not the only one who does this. It’s hard to describe in words exactly what I mean, but I hope I was able to convey it somewhat. You stop, look around, and just ponder what you see. No matter where you are in the game's world. At least for myself, I just kind of stare at it, eyes squinted just a little, drinking it all in, what it could mean, and how hauntingly beautiful it truly is. This world is different than anything you normally see, so I feel as though it’s important to really hammer home how it makes me feel.

III: LIMBO’s World

You see huts in the trees, entire forests being destroyed and taken down, caves with webs spread across the tops and bottoms of it, cleverly placed traps for those unlucky to come across them. Machines springing to life with the flip of a switch. There is a surprising amount of detail in the background. The foreground is rich and teeming with details too, but for my most recent playthrough, I really took my time and tried to pay attention to everything going on behind The Boy and really looked for anything interesting. My need to bridge the gap between the character and player happened once more, and I found myself looking at everything around me from The Boys perspective. Trying to ascertain what he might be feeling in these moments. If anything at all. Who knows? This world between worlds might be devoid of any emotion or feeling. Which would explain how The Boy is able to die without so much as a single ounce of pain expressed by him. I’m not scared or anxious when I play this game. I’m quite relaxed and just kind of look at everything. The sensations are numb but still there. The entire world is ominous and reeks of death and despair; negative emotions, sadness and tragedy plague every single nook and cranny of this game. These places are not home, these people are not happy. There is darkness everywhere you look. Pits of complete blackness and emptiness. But, at the same time, there is light; plenty of it too. Spots where even the nastiest of creatures won’t come near you. Light means hope, and since there is light, there is hope that you will see this through to the end, The balance of these contrasts is incredible and needs to be praised. You’re constantly going back and forth between them, and it’s so seamless most of the time you don’t consciously notice it. Another interesting observation; you are the only one with eyes. Everyone is just a full silhouette. Which adds another layer to the living versus dead situation you are in. And while you figure your way up and over and out of whatever hurdles are in your way, LIMBO is playing absolutely atmosphere dripping music in your ears.

IV: The OST

The OST for this game is immacualte. Only six songs in the entire game. All written by Martin Stig Andersen. And each one appears at very specific points in the game, usually accompanied beforehand by a powerful stinger to alert you that things, for a moment, are going to get very serious. An example would be the giant spider that chases you through the first quarter of the game. Always around; impeding any progress being made. It doesn’t hate just The Boy; it hates everyone else stuck here. The loud, ominous and constant line of deep bass exudes directly out of the creature and is a reminder that it’s always around. And it isn’t until you finally kill the spider for good, that the sound goes away completely; signaling the end of one foe, and the start of many others. But I think the best example of this is when you encounter the people in the fort who attack you with darts, and you need to run back through all the traps they placed to avoid them. A quick but heavy gong is rung to alert you that it’s time to run because The Boy is defenseless in this world, and its inhabitants are not. It’s one of the only times in the game that got my heart racing the first time I played it. The music very quickly swells and fills your ears with different drones and rings that sound like alarms, all while this heavy gong is hit again and again. Each synched up with an action in the game, until the last one is played, and you just bear witness to four people losing their lives, trying to take yours. It’s a moment that makes you stop and really wonder what it is you’re actually doing. Why do these people feel the need to attack you, instead of just letting you pass? All the music simmers down slowly, and your heart begins to relax. And this isn’t the only moment in the game where this occurs, but it’s probably the best example in the game to explain why the OST is so incredible with what it does, the atmosphere it creates, and the emotions it fills in you. And even when the music isn’t ringing in your ears, the ambiance and general sound design in the game, is immaculate and does so much for the areas you hear it in. Whether it’s the rushing of water above and around you, the booms of thunder and lightning as you scale across buildings, or the deep bass hum of machines doing what they were created to do, this game does not shy away from always keeping your ears in full attention. Considering the game is 2D, and monochromatic, it makes sense the audio design was put on a high priority to be both immersive, and almost invasive because of how much there can be going on sometimes. But it’s not a bad thing at all. I love it; you can close your eyes to a large variety of locations in the game, and just take in everything that is happening around you. It’s wonderful. Way ahead of its time. Even people to this day still listen to the OST fondly, because of how beautiful it is. What isn’t wonderful however, is the world's depiction of death, and how overwhelming it plagues the ground The Boy walks on.

V: Death

Death is something you will become very familiar with in LIMBO. The world reeks of it, and if it isn’t your own you are lamenting, it will be the poor souls around you who have already passed or are quickly on their way. It comes in all shapes and sizes. Each one is usually more gruesome and violent than the last. This idea of death is really explored in the first third of the game, where it seems like people who are here, have decided that this will be their new home. You see less individuals in the world as you progress through the game, for reasons unknown. Maybe they are afraid of what lies ahead. Maybe they can’t die more than once like The Boy. Or perhaps they are just content with the purgatory they have been placed into. Either way, we see lots of people trapped, isolated, encaged, ensnared, taken against their own will. It’s brutal. And even some animals might be stuck here as well, but those seem to be just trying to survive on instinct, and not fully considering their own situation. There are some deaths that are sad, and others that feel deserved for what they were trying to do. But regardless, a lot of the puzzles and in between sections of the game come with the chance of death to strike at critical moments. The only salvation is that the checkpoints in the game are very fair and commonplace, so don’t be too upset should you meet and untimely end. But I don’t think The Boy will appreciate it.

VI: The Home Stretch

The final section of the game is very interesting. It revolved around a gravity switch that is queued up with the music and is constantly throwing you up onto the ceiling and then back down onto the floor. All the while, saw blades, machine guns, and giant metal blocks all impede on the last little bit of this journey, before you use the gravity to your own advantage and.... smash through a glass pane. Shattering the world around you. It slows down, the game’s audio cuts out. And you just hear the melody of the music as it slowly fades out and you land on the ground; in a daze. Unsure as to what just happened. But, you are somewhere new. Somewhere familiar; it’s the forest. From the start of the game. The Boy is back. It’s not the exact same as the starting point, but for the first time, you feel a sense of familiarity and that’s comforting. Before long, The Boy rises to his feet once more, and he’s off again. But not for long this time. Because at the crest of a small hill, lies a ladder up to a treehouse... and his sister. She’s been here this whole time. You found her. The Boy found her. The game takes control from here; he slowly approaches her, as she is minding her own business; playing in the grass. The wind is picking up. Not a word is spoken. The boy is mere inches from her, finally being reunited, and then she finally reacts to his presence behind her. They both stop, and pause for a moment, before the game cuts to black, and the credits roll. The ending may be underwhelming for many, but I think it’s perfect. It’s left up to the players’ discretion what happens next. There are so many possibilities, and there are pretty much no wrong answers. Whether or not they leave wherever they are is unknown. Is she even happy to see him, is unknown. And I think that’s important. Perhaps they were setting themselves up for a potential sequel, but alas, we never did get one. There’s a spiritual successor, but it isn’t tied to LIMBO in any way.

VII: The End

Limbo is amazing. I loved it when it came out on the 360, and even after all these years, I still enjoy it. But to be honest, I play it now, not for the puzzles, because they are easy and straight forward, I play it for the world and music. These two elements work together so impressively I am blown away by how much they hold up in 2023. A lot of people love this game, and still sing its praises, which it aptly deserves. LIMBO is a top tier in my eyes. And a masterclass in subtle storytelling through presentation, worldbuilding, music, and atmosphere. Thank you very much for taking the time out of your day to watch this video, and be sure to subscribe for longer form, deep dives, into games and media that I love with all my heart and just want to gush over. I hope to see you in future ones.