The Climb 1 and 2 review: a single gameplay mechanic, stretched

The Climb games are wholly devoted to executing a single gameplay mechanic, at the expense of everything else. There’s plenty of other VR productions where that came from: Beat Saber is all about dancing; Blade and Sorcery is all about sword fighting; Superhot is all about bullet time. No prizes for guessing what The Climb is all about—again, at the expense of everything else. No narrative, no characters, no objectives other than climb, climb, climb! 

In some ways these short, experimental, largely story-devoid experiences are comparable to the short films released during cinema’s earliest years, explored within the context of ride-like attractions in Thomas Gunning’s highly influential essay The Cinema of Attractions. Looking forward, I’d bet that the legacy of titles like The Climb will be to inform the development of mechanics later used as parts of larger and more ambitious productions.

The Climb games are conceptually unoriginal given the plethora of first-person experiences already released that integrate climbing mechanics. They do however expand these mechanics to seldom-depicted scenarios: climbing up a ladder may be a dime a dozen, but not so much when it comes to climbing left and right along rock faces and buildings, and jumping between structures fitted with ledges and grippable surfaces. 

Falling off a ledge (which one is certain to do many times) triggers a rare vocal response from the body we inhabit, which goes something like this: “aaaaaahhhhhhhh!” But it’s not a big deal if you plummet to your doom; the game will quickly return you to the nearest check point. There are no stakes. In the easiest level in the “city” scenario there’s a nice, suspenseful touch involving a ladder hanging off the side of a building. You want to reach onto it ( who could resist?) but if you do it falls away, tumbling down and presumably, possibly, killing some poor bastard walking down the street—not that there are any humans in sight. 

During one cute moment in The Climb 2 there is, however, a wolf, perched on a narrow nearby ledge high up on treacherous snow-covered mountain. After our character shouts “woohoo” the animal lets out a big, triumphant howl, as if to say “me too!” Getting to this point involves climbing onto, past and over a light aircraft lodged into the side of the mountain. It’s a rare moment of these games showing some cinematic ambition, with vaguely implied backstory (presumably the plane crashed) and another creature momentarily bringing a patina of life into an otherwise lonely, character-devoid experience. 

It almost goes without saying that the core appeal of The Climb 1 and 2 rest on completing challenges tied to vertical navigation. Verticality has been a major part of video games for a very long time: in the original Donkey Kong for instance old mate Mario ascends ladders and platforms, while the cranky gorilla hurls barrels and causes carnage from way up top. Verticality has even seeped into video game parlance; we often talk about how players “level up.” 

Yet despite the core appeal of ascension in The Climb, and all that journeying upwards, there’s little sense of progression. You go up, then up some more, then up again. It’s briefly enjoyable but limited.