Automaton Lung, or Dreamscapes and Joy in 3D Platforming

Playing Automaton Lung in a few short sessions over the past 24 hours or so entirely unprompted feels exactly right for this type of game. Having sat within my consciousness since watching the first 9 or so minutes of this ThorHighHeels video, it just seemed to exist within the lost archives of the ancient Steam library, ready to overtake my mind like an unanticipated daydream.

Automaton Lung is a genuinely excellent platformer that understands what makes 3D platforming compelling. Precision platforming can be done in 3D, but it’s often more frustrating than joyful, so should be left to 2D platformers. What sets 3D platforming apart is two things.

First is the exploration and discovery of what a space has to offer; its sites, its sounds, its geometry, its inhabitants. With its background as a built-for-3DS graphical style, Automaton Lung exists in an ethereal space usually spoken for by offbeat N64 projects that lean further into the more abstract representations of imagined worldly destinations.

An overbearing temple, a towering skyscraper, a maze-like cavern. Buildings both unimaginably tall and far too small to contain the geometry weaving amongst it's innards. Synth tunes mellow your jog up and down inclines and twisting staircases as enemies try their best to push you out of frame, except when they don't, instead pointing you deliberately or accidentally in the direction of your next collectible disk.

All spaces are somehow large enough to feel tremendously expansive, yet small enough to move around in shorter time frames than you expect. Simplicity in geometry leads areas to be much more easily readable but somehow still hide secrets in plain site, tipping the scales ones again toward surprise over frustration.

Second is the way you get around that space; the joy in getting to each area to absorb its sites and sounds, the toolset with which you have to clamber about on the geometry, and how you interact with the inhabitants of that space. To lean into the feel of the movement is to bring that pleasure response from the screen back into your fingers, shooting up into your brain to accompany the feeling of sinking into pleasing tunes and landscapes.

A basic jog and almost useless jump pushes the jet boost and hoverboard to the fore of your experimentation. Boosts become hops forward, variants of Banjo Kazooie’s double jump and Spyro's glide leaning into the feeling that this dream is similar to the laws of physics that you feel in your bones - yet different, off, but in a nice way. The physics of the hoverboard differ once again, a different paradigm of travel and traversal where the square peg of jumping cannot fit into the round hole of reaching your destination.

Mechanical variation that pushes intention and boundary, but crucially, never in a way that punishes or frustrates. Dying is inconsequential and falling only leads to more joyous movement, more surprising exploration, or both.

It's been a fair while since I've felt compelled to write something that wasn't because of the underwritten promise of #content in exchange for code, or because of a need to work through life events and personal trauma. It's been hard to find joy in many of the several dozen video games I've touched in the last couple of months, much less feel compelled to share thoughts and experiences in the hopes others can feel them too. Essays on Stellar Blade’s take on sexuality and Anthem’s legitimately saddening demise have fallen by the wayside, yet I just needed to get words out about this 2022 3D platformer that not enough people even know exists.

I think it says a lot that Automaton Lung can come along and for a couple of hours, wordlessly pull at something deeper than what it would seem on the cover. Here's hoping developer Luke Vincent's planned more ambitious follow up Automaton Heart only builds on what is so compelling about this ethereal digital space and the feelings it illicits.