Someone in my family had a matryoshka doll. Or, well, a whole bunch of them, nested together until you set them free with that memorable little pop. Maybe it was my grandmother on my mom’s side. Or was it just my mom? I don’t know. Somebody. It was red.
And that’s the extent of my personal connection to Matryoshka. Thank goodness it’s such a good game or I would have lost interest almost immediately.
Every so often I come across a game that fills me with more a feeling of respect than love, or even of enjoyment. It’s like that one time I met myself from the future, after I’d sacrificed countless human and alien lives to end the Hydrangine Wars — don’t worry about it, you’ll find out about those soon enough — and I found my usual narcissism replaced with something a touch more distant, more like the relationship I might have with a teacher. Okay, bad comparison, and perhaps too much information. The point is, now and then I’ll play a game that I don’t have much desire to play ever again, but I still can’t help but like it, in its own way.
Medina is possibly this year’s most glowing example of that conundrum.