My name is Jen, and it has been... two hours since I last played Blue Prince. This is not a review, it's a public health warning.
I’ve logged 62 hours into this game, which is already being hailed as this year’s Balatro (read: indie darling of award ceremonies). But I simply must stop. If I keep going, I might actually lose my mind. It's that good, and it's that addictive.
Blue Prince has possessed me in ways no other game has — well, not since Balatro itself. The puzzles are so intricate, with countless possible solutions, that I’ve been suffering from a severe case of The Tetris Effect.
For those that don't know, this is when a game consumes your thoughts so completely that it invades your waking hours and even your dreams.
I'm basically like John Nash in A Beautiful Mind, except I’m seeing room layouts. Open my kitchen door? I hope bacon and eggs are on the menu so I can draft the Morning room. Why is my lavatory so useless? Should I upgrade my bedroom to get more steps?
If you’re confused, it’s because you haven’t played Blue Prince yet. You don’t understand our secret language.
What is Blue Prince?
So, what is Blue Prince? Why is Blue Prince? Where is Blue Prince? Am I the Blue Prince? Are we living in a simulation?
Blue Prince is on Xbox Game Pass, but before it launched earlier this month barely anyone had heard of it. Now it's bonafide Game of the Year material. It also plays perfectly on gaming handhelds, like the Steam Deck, despite not yet having Steam Deck verified status.
Blue Prince begins as a deceptively simple roguelike game. You play as Simon, a young boy set to inherit a mansion from your late uncle, but only if you reach Room 46 within the building.
Starting with a 5x9 grid, you lay blueprints (get it? GET IT?) for various rooms to build your path. But wait, 5x9 equals 45! How do you get to Room 46? Therein lies the mystery.
Each day, you solve puzzles and draft rooms, but you’re limited to 50 steps. Entering a room costs a step. The day ends when you’ve run out of steps, drafted too many dead ends, or decide to sleep in your tent and reset.
Your goal, or so you think, is to reach Room 46. Once you do, the credits roll. At this point, dear reader, I beg you: leave the game. Delete it. Revel in your newfound peace.
But if you continue... you'll unravel a masterpiece
But if you’re anything like me and the rest of the obsessed community, you won’t delete the game, you'll have some goals you didn't reach during your playthrough, and you'll think "one more run."
Unfortunately, reaching Room 46 is basically completing the tutorial. It’s a cliché, but it’s true. The real game begins afterward.
And so, I kept playing. I’ve uncovered mysteries about Simon’s family. I’ve hauled cardboard boxes one by one, to find more cardboard boxes.
I’ve seen things in tunnels that weren’t there before. I’ve committed fish murder in the name of unraveling more clues.
It's actually a brilliant co-op game in that both my partners have been playing and comparing notes, seeing things in eachother's games and piecing together the parts to get through another elusive door.
When I'm not playing, I'm reading about it, thinking about it, watching Youtube video speed runs of getting to Room 46.
But I need to stop. For every puzzle I solve, more puzzles emerge, and I lie awake piecing them together. I dream of the Mount Holly mansion, only to wake up disappointed that all my progress wasn’t real. But it can be if I fire the Steam Deck up one more time...
So, I’m going to delete Blue Prince and remember it as one of the greatest games of all time — before I’m forced to check myself into an asylum.
Well… maybe after one more run.
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