Over time, the game’s many worlds open up to you with each new skill. There’s an astonishing scope to the game, zipping you from a cigarette butt to a tractor and then back to an amoeba potentially within the same minute. Thousands of different models are playable, allowing you to live out your wildest fantasies of being pizza in peace. The USP of Everything is that it allows you to be almost anything you want to be. For a game all about freedom, Everything’s pseudo-tutorial works against the player’s immersion, but, again, it feels like a roadblock placed on purpose. Finding these seems like random chance, which soon turns to frustration. Certain icons will unlock new skills, such as the ability to switch into other beings and Descend or Ascend between levels. The deterring introduction will task you with random exploration and watching other similarly janky animals bumble their way through life. Once you tire of being a deer (or whichever animal the partly procedurally generated game “spawns” you as), Everything begins to unfurl. Everything is about everything, from the smallest atom to the biggest planet and everything in between. If anything, the odd animations and obscured purpose are a test to the player, as if OReilly is giving a polite warning that this might not be for everyone. Luckily, David OReilly’s newest piece of interactive art cranks into gear and becomes a gaming experience unlike any other before too long. After an ethereal opener which saw me floating around nothingness, I took control of a deer and then started to comically “move” across plains like a drugged domino with no objective in sight. Everything’s first ten minutes present one of the least alluring introductions to any video game I think I’ve ever played.
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