Prince and his guitar shaped into his symbol. (Image Credit)

This is because I wasn’t born until the end of the following year, Dec 11, 1994. And only eight days before I came into the world, so did the original PlayStation console. Anyone who would be reading an article like this, about a topic like this, on a site like this, doesn’t need to be told of the influence of the PlayStation brand. For millions, it was their first exposure to CD technology, DVD technology with the PS2, or Blu-ray technology with the PS3. For millions, the PSP and the PS Vita were their first taste of home console gaming on the go. Franchises like Uncharted, God of War, Metal Gear Solid, and Horizon captured the minds and hearts of millions. And in those millions, there was one scrawny, awkward kid from south Georgia who leaned way too hard into that brand throughout his childhood.

When the PSP came out, I immediately dropped my Game Boy Advance in exchange for the more grown-up world of Burnout Legends and GTA: Liberty City Stories. When the Vita came out, I ended up buying it twice, as my first one fell into a cooler during Latin Convention, and it technically became the first console I bought completely with my own money. Before I got my PS2, I’d spend hours at its kiosk in Walmart playing every single demo on that year’s Jam Packed disc I could. When I accompanied my parents on Black Friday to pick up my PS3 for Christmas, I sat in the car hugging and caressing the box while my folks chatted up a randomly encountered old friend in the parking lot. When I got my PS4, I spent every non-work or school-occupied hour I had to play it for months. And when I got my PS5, it was the first time I was in a position to share my love of PlayStation with the next generation, as I secured one for my little brother’s Christmas gift as well as my own. 

An actual photo of my actual PS3 and PSP from 2008. I was 14, I should have cleaned my room first.

None of that mentions any of the numerous, defining experiences I’ve had with the games themselves however. I can say with complete certainty that I was a different person before I played Shadow of the Colossus for the first time on the floor of my childhood den the afternoon of Christmas 2011. I can say without a doubt that I was a different person before I met all of the online strangers I’ve come to love and befriend in games like Playstation Home, Warhawk, and the wider Podcast Beyond community. I can say without a doubt that I was a different person before I played inFAMOUS 2 and had to come to terms with the most agonizing moral choices I had ever been presented with in my young life. So many of the franchises and experiences that could only be found, or are most well known for being on, PlayStation have come together to help build the man I am today and all of the alternate versions of me that have been left behind at those fateful forks in the road of life would likely all agree that I’m better off for those experiences.

So please, believe me when I say that a game like Astro Bot was designed to satisfy and delight me specifically.

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First off, visually this game dazzles at all times. Its art style is as clean as ever, with every item and character having a sheen and polish to them. Even Astro themself, who is often criticized for having a generic design, is designed really elegantly. He manages to have a basic enough default look so that he can adapt so well to the dozens of unlockable costumes in the game. But they also call back to the design of tech of the late 90s and early 2000s, like the iMac G 3 or the Hasbro i-Dog, which is a nice nod to the era in which PlayStation cemented itself as an iconic force in pop culture. But the thing that dazzles most is how much physics and fluid dynamics are used. Some enemies and environmental features spray water or lava and seeing it slosh around is strangely hypnotic. There are also many times throughout when hundreds of gold nuggets, sprinkles, diamonds, or other small objects surround you, and the sight, feel, and sound of walking through them is also immensely satisfying. The vibration motors and speakers on the Dualsense are working overtime for this title and all of these dazzling visuals are rendered at 60 frames at 4K resolution at all times, without a single noticeable frame dip.

The Hasbro I-Dog Pup, Silver (Image Credit)

The gameplay is also a major step up from Astro’s Playroom, and it would even be more appropriate to compare it to Astro Bot Rescue Mission, the PSVR prequel. Rather than entire levels getting taken up by gimmicks related to various Dualsense features, these gimmicks are paced out much better and are more novel as a result. Instead of getting locked into a motion-controlled rail shooter or a tilt-sensitive platforming gauntlet for an entire level, elements like these are sprinkled into hidden challenges and side levels rather than being mandatory for the main campaign. And for the few times that this rule is broken, it is done to such a brief and tremendous effect that it’s hard to mind.

While you do get a lot of traditional platforming gameplay, there are plenty of new elements added. You get several different power-up packs throughout the game, which give you the ability to slow time, inflate and deflate yourself, launch yourself into the air or across terrain, turn yourself into a metal ball, and more. Each ability has multiple applications and your performance with each is tested extensively across several different contexts and levels. For example, you don’t only use slow motion to stop fast-moving platforms for you to walk on but also use it to halt incoming hazards. Team Asobi keeps thinking up new ways to reuse the same handful of abilities so that you can get familiar with a move set, but are also engaged enough so that you never get tired of any of them. All of this is condensed to only a handful of buttons, and inputs are always simple and rarely require multiple inputs at the same time, even at higher-level play. It’s so expertly designed that it’s hard to say that this isn’t just outright the best 3D platformer I’ve ever played, and the gameplay is largely the reason I’d say so.

But what about the story? Well, there isn’t much of one. Astro and his hundreds of robot friends are attacked by an alien in space, and after crash landing, you explore dozens of planets across 6 galaxies to find both your crew and the parts of the ship. But what the game lacks in narrative, it overwhelmingly has in stage progression. The way levels build to their boss battles and spectacularly deliver on the hype of them all is perfect, and it makes those moments, once they do come, even more epic. Even the formatting of the game world and user interface, with the interactive menu that lets you fly your speeder from planet to planet, and to the secret level exits, is fun and engaging to experience.

Astro Bot chillin’ in the sauna with some monkeys. HE’S SO CUTE

And now, for the main highlight of the game, the VIP bot levels. Throughout the game, you recollect the 300 bots that used to occupy your ship. About half of those bots are heavily inspired by PlayStation characters, and about 5 of them get entire levels dedicated to the game they come from. These levels are the highlights of the game, as each one not only faithfully adapts the characters, world, and aesthetics of each franchise, but also their gameplay and level design. At the beginning of each of these levels, you transform into the main character of each franchise and are therefore granted their signature toolset. The God of War level is an excellent example of this, as it allows you to wield the Leviathan Axe while still having access to all of Astro’s usual moveset, as the Axe is treated like one of Astro’s normal special abilities in his own levels. But the way that Kratos’ weapon is translated here is brilliant, as you can throw & recall it, as well as use it in some platforming puzzles and collect items from afar. Even parts of the level call back to the specific design quirks that have been a part of God of War from even before the reboot, like slowly walking through cracks in walls to give time for the next area to load. Each of these levels is a delight on its own, and after the light bit of digging I’ve done, I can see there are even more secrets within them to uncover after completion.

However, the choice of franchises represented in these levels is kinda wild. Yes, I know something like God of War is massive, so it will certainly get a level, and most of the other levels are for equally massive franchises. But there are two choices there that may baffle more recent fans of PlayStation. For my money, at least one of them is the best level in the entire game, too. But if you remember that Team Asobi began as one small part of the legendary Japan Studio, those additions make much more sense and bring with them a bit more metatextual weight.

This reminds me, I have to appreciate the selection of franchises represented with the rest of the bots as well! There’s no way you can make a game like this without getting a lot of representation from God of War, Uncharted, Horizon, and all of Sonys’ biggest and most recent hits. But for a roster of just over 300 bots, there are some deep cuts here. The representation isn’t quite comprehensive; some surprising and baffling omissions will show that. But the ones they do pick are often obscure, due to being from a franchise that has been dead for years, or from being a smaller indie from the last few years. Even the designs of these bots are sometimes strange, as a select few aren’t just costumed bots, but are straight-up models these characters use in their own games.

Astro cuddled up next to a cow in a bright meadow of flowers.

The variety of costumes on these bots makes them look incredibly distinctive and cool when they all run around together in a joyous mob. In the game’s main hub, the Crash Site, you can see each and every bot toiling away on their own tasks. Some bots are upkeeping the ship, some are lying in the shade, some are goofing off, and all of the VIP bots have their own dedicated spot on the land. In this spot, once you feed enough coins into the Gatcha Machine to earn their signature item, they loop some of the most endearing idle animations ever made. And when you hit them, they trigger another animation that is often even more adorable and referential to their home franchise. It makes the Crash Site feel more like an interactive museum than a video game level, and that becomes more so as you collect all of the bots and puzzle pieces in every level.

Once you try exploring the site, you actually call on the bots to either stack onto each other into bridges and ropes that help you cross gaps or to help lift and pull heavy objects to open up new rewards and locations. Seeing all of these bots working together, moving in giant flash mobs, to accomplish a common goal is strangely effective. It illustrates how, despite each of these franchises having drastically different levels of sales and popularity and artstyles between them, they are all a part of one consistent legacy, and without each and every one of them, the hights that have been reached by PlayStation, and Astro themself, would not be possible.

Astro Bot is not only my game of the year, but now also one of my favorite games of all time. It is the kind of game I’ve been praying for for nearly my entire gaming life. When everyone was losing their mind about the new Nintendo Wii, I was the only one in our household attempting to spread the gospel of LittleBigPlanet. When the rest of the world was in Halo 3 and Gears of War lobbies, I was playing Uncharted 2 online with Greg Miller during IGN charity streams. When the Nintendo Switch arrived on the scene and revolutionized handheld gaming, I was still squeezing the last drops of life out of the Vita. My entire relationship with PlayStation has been defined by a tinge of defiance in the face of a contrasting zeitgeist just as much as it was defined by my love for thier video games themselves.

Astro and the pink bean from Fall Guys.

All that time, I had craved for PlayStation to have some kind of celebratory text for the legacy they have built, because that is the legacy with which I most identified. I assumed PlayStation All-Stars Battle Royale would finally be that, but its interest in cross-promoting modern releases over celebrating the past of the brand ensured that would never be the case. I assumed that Astro’s Playroom would be that, but its status as a free pack-in with the PS5 would make the game feel more like a demo than a full creative work all on its own. But now, nearly 30 years since I first touched a video game at my cousin Montrez’s house when he got Spyro the Dragon on PS1, PlayStation finally has a proper celebration of the legacy it has created. Astro Bot is both the game PlayStation fans like me have been waiting for, but also the game that, after all this time, we deserve. 

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That is where I planned on ending my review of Astro Bot, but it just didn’t sit right on my mind or my heart. I love PlayStation, and I will likely always prefer its exclusives and default to its console ecosystem. But even though every word I wrote is true to my lived experience, it didn’t feel like it quite reflected who I am today, not just as a fan of PlayStation, but also as a fan in general. 

I play my PS5 regularly to this day, but I’ve accumulated too many life-changing experiences with games on other platforms that such fanatical talk of PlayStation just doesn’t feel so authentic anymore. I fell in love with the Gears of War series a few years ago, and I still think Gears 5 is better than any Uncharted entry. I fell in love with Kirby with his 3D debut on Nintendo Switch, and he is still one of my favorite platformers of all time & the first Nintendo character I’ve truly fallen in love with. I’ve fallen in love with countless PC games, like Doki Doki Literature Club and Gone Home, the latter of which I fell in love with before I even owned a PS4. With my Steam Deck, Humble Bundles, Steam sales, and free games given away through Epic and Prime Gaming, the PC platform will be the most obvious place to play for the foreseeable future. 

But deeper than that, my adoration of Astro Bot, and some of the more controversial responses to it had me wondering, is it the symbols I adore, or what they represent? 

Astro slamming a fist into the sacred symbols.

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I grew up in a Christian household, so to a large degree, it was inevitable for me to become a believer as well. I still consider myself one but with several asterisks beside it today. I’m not ignorant of the fact that the Crusades left thousands dead in the name of a God I’ve only ever believed was benevolent. I know that the Christianity that many black people, like myself, follow is largely a product of white Europeans and was something our ancestors clung to during the torture of slavery, and passed down to us today. I also know that many today who claim to stand for the word of God and implement his will are false prophets, misusing his name by using it as an instrument to hate and violate. Christianity isn’t the only religion to be bastardized into unholy uses. A modern example would be how many Jews of the world strongly disavow the genocide being committed by the supposed Jewish holy land: Israel. But as a Christian, despite the view of God I carry in my heart, I understand that many a fallible man has caused his perception to be warped over the centuries.

As I’ve encountered new and different kinds of people, I’ve softened my beliefs enough that I’ve shed most of the problematic worldviews that often thrive in religious contexts. Hell, I stopped going to church regularly a few years ago due to finally finding myself in the line of fire of these in the church with more strictly traditional, arbitrary views. But I never truly stopped believing, so I got a cross necklace around that same time and have rarely taken it off ever since. I quietly knew my reasons for rocking it, but only vocalized it properly recently when an ex and I got serious and she inquired about it. I told her I wear it to represent my attempts to be a decent person, to do good in the world, and to be generous and caring to others, as that’s what I understood to be how the man who was once pinned to that cross lived. I also admitted that, especially in the American South where I live, it can cause strangers to approach with a softer tone and with less of an expectation of harm, which comes in handy as a 6ft. black man. She was relieved to hear this, as she also had experience in the Christian church, and for her, that symbol held quite a different meaning.

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4 other sacred symbols have come to mean a lot to me as well, and one of them is yet another cross. These 4 symbols have been burned into the insides of my brain, and that much will always be true. But as I age, I’m less comfortable with them only standing for the dozens and dozens of IP and characters that I’ve come to cherish. I want those symbols to stand for more than that. And frankly, with slight exception, Astro Bot doesn’t encourage that line of thinking whatsoever. I mentioned earlier that Astor Bot’s Crash site, with all of its cameo characters sprinkled throughout, feels like an interactive museum. Well, that’s not quite apt because, If I didn’t have a lifetime of knowledge about most of these franchises, I wouldn’t know who pained, sculpted, or assembled anything in the whole goddamn gallery. Yes, these franchises are mentioned in the credits, and yes there is now a section of PlayStation Plus that highlights IPs that are featured in Astro Bot. But these are an indirect bandaid on a still open wound. While it brings me joy to have Astro punch a cardboard box only to have Solid Stake pop out while reading a porno magazine, Hideo Kojima feels invisible in that representation unless you already know to attribute that artistic creation to him. That’s fine for someone in the know like me, but no Museum should work off of Easter egg logic. 

The only exception to this is, well, Astro Bot as a game itself. With its’ final epilogue level, it celebrates the many who coded, designed, scored, and created Astro Bot just as much as it celebrates the franchises found within it. Each team member has their name rendered in-game as its own toy for the player to play with briefly as they continue down to the next name. It gives a tangibility to each and every person who touched this fantastic work of art, a tangibility I wish was given to the humans behind each and every game series represented, as that would make each of the bots representing them hold so much more weight.

Jim Ryan visiting London Studio, developers of The Getaway and Blood & Truth, just days before shutting down the studio. (Image Credit)

Perhaps it’s the fault of the historically awful last few years the game industry has had, with tens of thousands out of work, and dozens of developers and publishers closing up shop entirely. The gaming industry, maybe worse than any other, has so thoroughly been ravaged by the hyper-capitalist mindset that made Disney into nothing but a nostalgia machine and Artificial Intelligence into the answer to every question we never asked. Capital is the only reason any of this exists, yes. Even back in 1994, the PlayStation brand was created to earn profit from a yet untapped corner of the gaming market. It was indeed profitable, but the art that resulted from the creation of that brand was good enough and plentiful enough that it was hard to be so cynical about it. A game like Parappa the Rapper was profitable enough to support the development of both a spiritual and later a direct sequel. The instant obscurity of a game like Ghost Hunter didn’t spell the immediate death of the company that made it. A game like Warhawk could release to a percentage of the player numbers that Call of Duty received, but could still thrive with multiple DLC additions and survive well into the current day with fan-run servers. But in this current age, anyone with even a cursory knowledge of the video game industry knows how dire it is out there. You can’t make the same games you could in the 90s and 2000s, or even the 2010s, and that’s easy to accept. But by corporate standards, you can’t make anything that isn’t Fortnite or The Last of Us, and that spells death for the creativity and quirkiness that I once loved about PlayStation.

Due to Sony’s corporate greed and steady consolidation and evaporation of various studios, they have changed what those sacred symbols represent. They have corrupted the nostalgia that I held dear for so much of my life. But I’d be lying if I said that what those symbols stand for is completely gone. Astro Bot itself shows examples that prove that isn’t quite true. The Cat from Stray, the Dog from Humanity, Kena from Kena: Bridge of Spirits, and other VIP Bots based on modern indies seemed to be out of place upon my first glance. They felt like the inclusion of dark-haired Dante or MGS Rising’s Raiden in PlayStation All-Stars: trendy inclusions that don’t reflect the legacy of the brand.

Did the players fail Concord, or did Sony themselves? (Image Credit)

But upon future consideration, I understand characters, and studios, like these to be the future of not only the brand but of the video game industry overall. If all of the biggest publishers can only make billion-dollar single-player games that take a near decade to make, or live service games that need massive player bases or they get shut down, then the indie and AA scene is the only place innovation and novelty have a chance. I love God of War and Spider-Man as much as the next guy, but I’ll be trying to give more of my time and money to the creators in these spaces as well because they might be all we have left in the coming years.

The sacred symbols, to me, once stood for a wide swath of creative and strange experiences. They stood for an umbrella so wide that it held everything from Fat Princess and Jumping Flash to Ico and Journey. They stood for hardware that pushed the boundaries of what was possible in ways that were often difficult to understand, but yielded spectacular results once you could get your head around it. They stood for Amy Henning, Fumito Ueda, David Jaffe (yes, even him, I liked Drawn to Death damnit!), and all of the other creators that were once synonymous with quality, novelty, and fun. That reputation for varied experiences used to exist, but does not now. That umbrella that carried so many different iconic genres and worlds used doesn’t exist anymore. The creators that gave me the creations I swore by growing up are, largely, not even working for PlayStation anymore. The sacred symbols used to mean a lot to me, but they don’t anymore. And this was once an Astro Bot review, but it’s not now.

But I hold out hope that the new generation, of creators make their art with as much freedom as they can manage in this less certain economic world. I need their creations to carry forward the embers of imagination that once burned not only within the soul of PlayStation but the entire industry. I don’t think we can ever go back to the way things were, just like I will never again be that kid who frantically explained PSPDemoCenter.net to his dentists as he was put down for dental surgery. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be better, if not better than we were, at least better than we are now. The symbols last forever, but it’s up to all of us to determine what they mean. Maybe in another 30 years, they can mean something better than they do now.