TRIP review
Chris Priestman



Flash, bang (cntd)

In this way, TRIP is a half painted canvas; intended for chewing, or at its best, musing. The things you’ll find are coloured shapes, some stuck like a record in repeated animation – they’re featureless, there’s no detail so as to let the player fill in the blanks. Their forms remind me of a collection of smooth wooden animals intended for pre-schoolers I once owned – aw look, it’s conjuring up lost memories. Squabbling ants, flaming pyramids, hilltop rams, churning cogs, elephants with their feet in soak – all of this imagery is placed disparately. And that’s how it should be, really. Random. Except, and this is where the problem with TRIP lies, it’s not.

After your enlightening journey you’ll likely want a new place to discover, given that the single world on offer only has so much abstract marvel contained within. But there isn’t anything else. Load up the same world and everything is, well, exactly the same. That sounds like a stupid thing to say but my assumption was that, like LSD: Dream Emulator, the worlds in TRIP were randomly generated. This revelation led to the realisation that everything is deliberate, a vision of its creator and placed there for a reason; one that ultimately belongs to the original artist. Sure you can interpret it as you wish, but the reality is that the player has been denied the authorship they most likely desire. This experience is not a personal one unlike an actual ‘trip’, those drug-induced experiences. These sights and sounds are not unique to you, perhaps the interpretation is to an extent, but it’s still limited.

One piece art gallery

On a more practical level, due to the world and the forthcoming additional ones being very few, it is all too easy to become a familiar and even overstay your welcome. Once a narrative has been assigned to the various architectures, it becomes an inward trip and repeated visits are nullified without the thrill of the unexpected. TRIP is therefore a solitary trip to the zoo, or an art gallery with only one piece. Those who have paid the entry fee may stare a bit longer to justify their expenditure, but if you’re looking for arbitrary delights beyond a single scoop then you’ll be dismayed with this serving. No matter how more-ish that flake and flavoured sauce drizzled on top is.

For some, like my friend the moth, that dressing is alluring enough alone, it may even be too much! With each passing minute I noticed him sliding down the monitor, quite involuntary, entranced as I was. He was an addict and I his dealer, not caring for their most dedicated customer. Then it happened. Our eyes met for the last time. He fell. Beyond the glow of the monitor he tumbled into the wailing darkness below. I was to find him in the morning as he lay upside down on my desk. Stiff. With a face too tiny to analyse, I once again filled in the blanks: he was smiling and his eyes still burned with the colours that had both killed and fascinated him. Stupid bugger.


fun score


A visual cacophony, odd enough to satsify your imagination and eyes


A one time deal which runs out of speed too fast