He burned his belongings.
It’s hard to imagine a man having no choice but to take a box of his stuff — a box of cherished memories, I think, although we’ve never been officially told — and stuff it into a campfire, what happened. It’s harder to imagine what it’s like to keep doing this over and over again. It just got easier, don’t you think? After the second time—the tenth, the fiftieth, the hundredth—it doesn’t hurt anymore? Did you stop feeling it? Or does every box stuffed into flames make your heart hurt a little more?
You don’t know how many times I zoomed in, looked closely, tried to decipher what he was burning. Somehow this is important to me; the key to unraveling this mystery. I think there are posters or photos in there? A man in a white hat. Add in a shoebox and maybe what may or may not be a cute toy. I don’t think it matters, really. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure and so on.
We were never properly introduced, but this nameless, expressionless, but cold and determined man intrigued me. I’ve always liked the silent protagonist – I really like the stoic, silent type – and he goes one step further: not only never talks, but never gets emotional because he doesn’t even have eyes. However, that didn’t stop him from coming here. It didn’t stop him from jumping into those swan pedal boat things, and just kept going for a ride — alone, in the dark — until he stopped by a moss-covered pier at the foot of the mountain.
He settled by each cold, dark campfire and watched it come to life, opening a portal between this place and a puzzling other world. Without a word – without a trace of emotion – he passed between them. He just wanted to burn his belongings.
Initially, though? Initially, Bonfire Peak just pissed me off. Of course it’s beautiful – well, if voxel art is your thing, I guess (I admit I’m not keen, but this highly stylized visual signature definitely works here) – yes there is a The soothing soundtrack keeps you zen as you stand, bewildered, trying to figure out what to do next. I hate the way he moves, though. I hate the fact that he has to climb the steps backwards when carrying the crate because the grid system he walks through doesn’t fit the diagonal. I hate that stupid box. I hate elusive campfires. The upbeat music even started to screech as it suggested an inner peace that was at odds with what I actually felt.
You see, the premise of each level is simple: burn the box. But this is easier said than done. Sometimes you need to climb rickety stone steps to reach the crackling campfire high; other times, you may have to construct a rough set of steps out of countless crates littering the ground. There are archery totems and high poles that get in your way, and sometimes you need to slide the box into the racing stream in order to transport it from one side of the map to the other.The solution is rarely obvious, even if – at first glance – it looks obviously.
No, there is no prompt system. I’m still a little conflicted about this.If YouTube was full of walkthroughs at the time of this review, I have no doubt I’d crash and find a solution, because some of the puzzles still make me sad. But to the developer’s credit, it stands firm here, refusing to hold your hand or whisper. I estimate that half of the puzzles I solve are flukes and the other half are happy accidents. I solved most of the toughest problems by throwing a tantrum, throwing a tantrum and coming back the next day.
Even the overworld — the world that ties all the puzzles together — is a mystery in itself, both literally and metaphorically. It’s a strange place, full of… well, he, I think. There’s an abandoned toy T-Rex and a grand piano – complete with stools – and a hospital bed hanging above the canyon. Plus, there’s a corner sofa and piles of Sesame Street characters, and — at the top of the hill, next to a tiki flashlight — a full standing desk with dual screens and power outlets. Every time you complete a puzzle, you create a box out of thin air to use around the world, and you use those crates and boxes to navigate the island and climb cliffs by building rough steps and walkways that didn’t exist before.
You also don’t have to complete all the puzzles to progress through the world – I think you can get through by completing half of them – and there’s no time limit or false sense of urgency. It teaches you not through prompts or pop-ups, but through careful design and experimentation.
Plus Bonfire Peak is very forgiving. I don’t think I’ve ever abused the undo button as vigorously as here, because perhaps more wonderfully, it doesn’t make your mistakes work against you. There is no fundamental limit to how many times you can tap “undo”, whether in the puzzle world or the overworld. Bonfire Peaks understands that we all learn from mistakes – even big, messy, dangerous ones.
I suspect the style and delivery of the Bonfire Peaks won’t be to everyone’s taste, and some may find its simplistic style belies its diabolical puzzles. But the more time I spend on it, the more I appreciate its gentle storytelling and challenging puzzles, and the more I want to get to know this guy and the bizarre island he finds himself on, even— especially When – Puzzles pissed me off.
It’s funny how it’s possible to have no words — not even a single facial expression — and still feel someone’s pain. The music may be soft and soothing, but it cannot hide the melancholy so heavy on this land. So, if the mysterious man on this mysterious island wants me to help him continue to burn his belongings, then I will burn his belongings. Let’s burn it together.
