Dear Esther is a beautiful and thought-provoking piece of work.

Much has been made of the very nature of Portsmouth University lecturer Dan Pinchbeck's experimental work, Dear Esther. Questions over whether its haunting, ethereal ghost-walk even qualifies as a game. There's no action button, no list of objectives, just you, a wind-ravaged Hebridean island and the impassioned narration of a man struggling to come to terms with the death of his wife. Trying to pigeonhole it is pointless; Dear Esther will be many things to many people and not all will agree. It is oil painting, poetry, eulogy and video game all at once. And it's never less than fascinating.

Originally released in 2008 as a mod created with Valve's Source engine, this commercial update has been given a huge visual overhaul by Mirror's Edge artist Rob Briscoe. His vibrant, detailed work breathes staggering new life into Pinchbeck's vision. From the very beginning, as you step onto the shore of the island, the art direction drags your eye into all the right places. A rickety lighthouse lies abandoned, the sun desperately tries to burn through thick, dark clouds, splashing slivers of light on the waves. And in the distance, a radio tower's red beacon blinks and you instinctively know that it's your destination. A guiding light shining through in the most oblique of openings. Later, Pinchbeck's unwavering path will take you through caves shining with impossible colour, light and splattered, inexplicable graffiti. When night falls, the platinum-blue pall of the moon washes over a vista pinpricked by the glow of candles. It is hauntingly beautiful.

You are both participant and observer in amongst the considered brushstrokes. With the exception of a handful of switchbacks and forks, your route through the island is a prescribed one. You move as you would any other first-person PC game: WASD to walk, mouse to look. But that's where the similarities end, your pace is set to meandering and your interactions end with visual investigation. As you move through the game, random snatches of prose are delivered with deep intensity by actor Nigel Carrington. If there's a puzzle in Dear Esther, it's piecing together these disparate, often disturbing thoughts with the visual narration laid out before you. The broad strokes of Dear Esther's visuals are majestic, but the finer details on the landscape are the most revealing. Empty buckets of paint, discarded ultrasound pictures and candle-lit shrines surrounding only a busted defribrillator hint at whatever you may make of it.

The shame is that Pinchbeck's prose can often be too florid for its own good. On occasion the words form a genuinely affecting poetry and clarity of meaning, but at other times it dips into laboured metaphors and deliberate, almost frustrating, obtuseness. The open-ended interpretation is arguably what invests you most in Dear Esther's narrative, but the odd clunk can break the spell. A more benign and mechanical complaint is navigation can occasionally snag on scenery, or a path that appears to be traversable blocks you off unexpectedly.

However, the odd minor hiccup won't spoil your time with Dear Esther. But it's certainly not a title for those who prefer more traditional video games. Instead it's more an interactive exhibit, rewarding you for attentive observation and approaching its unique make-up with an open mind. Do so and you will find a haunting, thought-provoking piece of work.

The Telegraph

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