121) Tensei (2024)

Tensei is, as the developer's put it, "an ultra-casual endless action game." While that description is mostly true, the "action" is pretty much limited to moving a small blob of ink and making it jump in an effort to climb ever higher. As such, Tensei technically has no ending, as it can seemingly go on forever, but there are certain progress markers , as well as a point at which credits will roll. Tensei isn't a game you're meant to beat, instead existing as an experience.

The name Tensei most commonly means "reincarnation" or "rebirth," and is used often in Japanese media in which a character dies and is brought back in some manner. It can be a literal or figurative rebirth, and here it applies to our aforementioned ink blob. As stated, the only ways in which we can interact with this world is by rolling around and jumping. We can jump a few times, climb up vertical surfaces, and can perform a sort of ground pound to purify corrupted zones that would otherwise kill our blob. As we climb ever higher, the terrain below will vanish, giving us just enough wriggle room to correct a mistake, though offering us a quick death if we fail to.

There is no real lose state, and as mentioned, the game has no real ending. There's so little on the surface, that I've actually been somewhat dreading writing about this particular game. How much can I truly say about a game where a blob climbs up endlessly? The controls, what few their are, work well and as intended, and if you simply want to reach the credits, you can do so in the span of a lazy afternoon. Getting all trophies/ achievements can take a bit more time, but if I'm being honest, all of that is kind of missing the point of the game.

To truly delve into what Tensei is trying to convey, look back at China during the Tang dynasty (618 - 907). During this time, ink brush painting using washes of black ink, such as was used in East Asian calligraphy, overturned earlier, more realistic techniques. Typically monochromatic, using only shades of black, the focus was more on the brushwork, which conveyed the spirit or essence of a subject instead of directly imitating them. This style of art would go on to flourish in the Song dynasty (960 - 1279), as well as in Japan after it was introduced by Zen Buddhist monks in 14th century.

Over time, the style has become deeply tied with Zen Buddhism. Chan and Zen Buddhism teach that ultimate truth is realized through sudden, direct, intuitive awareness rather than intellectual study. This is mirrored in the art style, as once the ink touches absorbent paper or silk, it cannot be erased, meaning that each and every stroke requires total presence of mind in a single, unrepeatable moment. Further, the white space is just as important as the black ink, similar to the Buddhist teachings on emptiness, or mu, and the interconnectedness of all things.

For Zen monks, the very act of creating such art is itself a form of meditation. Each act, the rhythm of grinding ink, holding the brush, and breathing with the movement of the hand reflects internal discipline and mindfulness. They also aim to capture the inner spirit or essence of a subject in as few brush strokes as possible, stripping away the external to reach the core reality.

Viewing the game through this lens helps to paint it in a different light. While there are few external dangers in the game, it requires a presence of mind as we navigate our way upwards. Tellingly, while we have limited control of the camera, there is no great emphasis on looking ahead and planning a route. That would be counter to our true purpose, which is simply to exist and flow naturally from moment to moment. Will we always succeed? No, and that's the point. Yes, eventually we will fall, but as is the case in life, how we choose to handle this is what truly matters. Do we give up? Or do we learn, grow, and try again?