When you read or hear the word ‘Limbo’ what do you think of? A metaphysical abode on the border of Heaven or Hell, where unbaptised infants and righteous souls still stained by Adam’s Original Sin dwell? A place or state of oblivion to which persons or things belong when cast aside, forgotten, past, or obsolete? A colloquialism used to imply a sense of transition, stagnation, uncertainty or confinement? Or perhaps the back-breaking style of contra dancing that originated from the island of Trinidad? You know, the one that is renowned for hospitalising tipsy party goers.

Before July 20th 2011 I would’ve impulsively opted for answer number four, primarily because the poorly-organised information warehouse between my ears stows some hilarious associated memories from my university days. But just recently I’ve been wowed by an indie title created by Danish developer Playdead Games, a puzzle-based side-scrolling platformer in which players guide an unnamed child through a bleak, ominous realm –  allegedly in search of his sister – with no explanation as to why. It’s deliberately ambiguous, effortlessly immersive, hauntingly memorable… and it’s called LIMBO.

The game opens with a monochromatic still of a mysterious forest, a glimmer of sunlight peeking through the trees as gentle rainfall washes over the landscape. After a brief pause a pair of glistening white eyes appears between the blades of grass as a young boy wakes from slumber. Immediately questions of who, what, where, why and how come to mind, but rather than answer them LIMBO baits your curiosity, leaving you to begin exploring this alien setting without direction, backstory or onscreen assists. So, off into the disconcerting darkness you go in hope of discovering your protagonist’s identity, and finding out how he’s ended up in this predicament.

The first thing you’ll notice is the title has a macabre, uninviting air about it. A grainy, colourless presentation quickly establishes an inescapable sense of enmity. Sinister-looking silhouettes twitch and flail against the backdrop. The apparent absence of light amplifies your vulnerability as you transition in and out of shadow, and barring the howling wind and the sound of gravel crunching underfoot you wander in disturbing silence, the most innocent of ambient noises causing you to flinch.

As players journey deeper into the dense woodland they’ll familiarise themselves with the uncomplicated control scheme. Cross lets you to perform a humble hop, useful for clearing barb-filled pits and seemingly bottomless voids. Square is used to reposition objects or activate levers in order to reach otherwise unreachable areas, and various ropes, vines and ladders can be ascended or descended by pushing the left analogue stick up or down. Your abilities become second nature in a New York minute, allowing you to concentrate on the task at hand: figuring out what in God’s name is going on.

Further into the gloom you travel until a sudden snap startles you. A fountain of black spurts from the boy’s neck as a hidden bear trap separates his head from his torso. You’ve just died, rather gruesomely. That doesn’t mean it’s game over though. Instead, you’ll respawn a few feet from where the incident occurred knowing where those iron jaws lie and how to avoid them. Playdead calls this cruel learning mechanism ‘trial and death’; only by drowning will you realise the boy can’t swim. Only by toppling off a cliff will you realise that too high a fall will shatter his bones. You’ll be crushed by tumbling boulders, electrocuted by high-voltage surfaces, dismembered by grinding buzz saws, and impaled by the spindly legs of a foreboding spider – giant and tenacious in equal measure. The unfortunate reality is that your termination is in fact integral to understanding LIMBO and overcoming the countless perils it contains.

Breaks from the unpleasant demise of this brave infant are provided in the form of brainteasers, some glaringly obvious, some complex and obscure. Early puzzles, for example triggering a booby-trap with a child’s corpse, are a matter of logical thinking, and in most cases a subtle audio or visual clue will hint at what you need to do. Later puzzles on the other hand require skill, preparation and precise timing – particularly those found in LIMBO’s derelict towns and abandoned factories, and only through trial and error/death will players suss out the sequences in which switches need pulling, items need dragging and jumps need jumping. Pleasingly the lenient checkpoint system successfully alleviates any frustration that might come from repeated failure, so when that “eureka!” moment finally happens you feel satisfied, not relieved.

Somewhat less pleasing however is LIMBO’s length, as this bewildering solo adventure can be finished in one sitting. To Playdead’s credit there are thirteen trophies to acquire that warrant a second playthrough, which involve such tasks as seeking out glowing insect eggs stored away in hard-to-reach locations and completing the quest with five deaths or fewer, but otherwise players will get roughly four hours of entertainment for their £9.99 investment. That said, it's nigh impossible to pull yourself away once this nightmarish dream world takes hold of you, which for an IP devoid of narrative, dialogue or validation is an impressive feat. 

In all my life I’ve honestly never encountered a game so atmospheric, so affecting, so… unforgettable. LIMBO may be uncompromising, being short, expensive and deficient in terms of longevity, yet its unsettling but beautiful aesthetics, minimalist but magnificent gameplay and remarkable ability to mesmerise all who experience it make it a timeless classic. This extraordinary PlayStation Network title is not to be missed.