I’ve been meaning to write about Machinarium for about a month now. My problem is finding the words to say. Sure, I could talk about the gameplay for paragraph upon paragraph, but I think that’s missing the point. All that you really need to know is that Machinarium is a point-and-click in the most traditional sense. It opens up a little later on, but for the most part, each screen is self-contained. You need to solve a few puzzles to move on and every item that you need is right there. Figuring out how to use those items is the hard part. And, well, that’s it.

I don’t mean to downplay the gameplay, it is challenging and it is satisfying as hell when you take down a tough puzzle. Again, that is completely missing the point. Dozens of games released this year have functionally the same gameplay. The entire reason that I love Machinarium, and the entire reason that I want to talk about it is the artwork.

Machinarium is one of the most beautiful games that I’ve ever played.

Let me repeat that - beautiful, stunning, magnifique. Perhaps more importantly, it’s beautiful in a complete distinct way. Nintendo’s Super Princess Peach is a beautiful game, but its beauty is in its dirtiness. It’s the stunning redhead covered in dirt, who is all the more attractive because she doesn’t mind dwelling in the muck. Machinarium’s world in one of the most memorable that I’ve ever immersed myself in because of the gritty details. The smoke-filled, trash-covered ruins of this twisted machine world will linger in my mind far longer than the Afghan minefields of the latest Modern Warfare. Each room in this game is a visual feast. Solving each puzzle is made all the harder, and all the more immersive because each room is so detailed.

It isn’t just that the art is fun to look at, plenty of games are aesthetically-pleasing. No, the art in Machinarium is so impressive because this is a game that is most distinctly not about words. In a genre so famous for its witty scripts, Machinarium stands apart because it is in every way opposed to that approach. The entire point of Machinarium, the foundation that the entire game is built on, is to thoroughly entrench you in this machine world without using a single word. Your robot must (and does) effectively communicate through pictures, motions, and pantomimes. Even the hints that the game gives are portrayed through little animations. The genius part, and the whole reason that I am so impressed with this game, is that it works.

This little robot, ironically enough, has more personality and charms than ninety percent of video game characters. You come to know it - that it is inquisitive, and a little shy - through its motions and its expressions. If a creature approaches, the robot will shrink back and shiver. It might tentatively peak forward before being noticed. And honestly, you’ll totally buy it. Without speaking a word, without stating the obvious, you will know exactly what this robot is thinking.

That is why I am so passionate about this game. It has nothing to do with the gameplay, which can be a little hit-or-miss when it devolves into a mad pixel hunt. No, Machinarium is amazing because it does such a great job of living up to its distinctly indie goal - to immerse you in a world and communicate both the intentions of the character and your interactions with the world without the use of the written word. Through art - both still and animated - Machinarium weaves its own language. Honestly, I’m not really sure that I can do the game justice by just describing it. I recommend grabbing the demo and trying it out yourself.

Official Website