Scribblenauts

Scribblenauts is a game that will be remembered for a long time. It’s a genesis event. In the history of games, there are few moments where a new genre appears; few dates where something truly novel is given to gamers. Scribblenauts is a birth. It’s Wolfenstein 3D. It’s Mario 64. Scribblenauts is Street Fighter.

As everyone now knows, Scribblenauts is a two-dimensional, semi-side-scrolling adventure game where puzzles and objectives are completed via the conjuring of objects. A notepad in the corner of the screen is the conveyor belt between our imaginations and the play-field; our stylus the only way to interact with those objects and the world. Maxwell, a young boy in a rooster hat, is collecting Starites, and we’re a god of gods. A Starite is at the top of a tree. A Starite is beyond an enemies’ armed front lines. A Starite is in a museum, under the glare of security guards. How will we unite Maxwell and his desires?

At first, we’ll write Fishing Pole, a lot. We’ll use Wings and Jet Packs and Guns. We’ll limit ourselves, because we’re used to playing games as quickly—as efficiently—as possible. But soon, we’ll stare down the barrel of boredom. Then, finally, we’ll engage our imaginations. We’ll start to have fun. We’ll seek out the edges of the game’s vocabulary, we’ll see just what we can glue to what, what we can assemble and screw with. Do Dinosaurs eat Donuts? Can we give a Dog Steroids?

Does God get hungry?



Soon, we’ll be designing our own levels, modifying the world to make Rube Goldberg machines, seeing how far we can push. Scribblenauts ups the ante from Little Big Planet, because we aren’t just limited to what the designers give us. We’re limited by nothing.

Sure, there are frustrations here. Control is the first and most glaring problem in the game. Getting Maxwell from one place to another, using the items we provide him with, is an obvious shortcoming of the game. The physics of the game are unstable; sometimes, we can cheat our way through a room just by jumping at something until we slip past it. Scribblenauts isn’t perfect; it’s just audacious and unique. I wish I could manipulate Maxwell with the D-Pad. But then again, we’re not really controlling the child; we’re maestros, conducting the orchestra his reality.

Scribblenauts is a game for writers and children. For artists and dreamers. For violent types that want to see how many weapons can be modified, made more dangerous. It’s an exploration of your inhibitions, your limitations. More than Brain Age, Scribblenauts begs you to think for yourself, to rouse your imagination from its decades-long slumber. It’s a game which is only as small as you are.

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