Eidolon is a beautiful, meditative experience. Sure, it's a bit simplistic and walking does get tiring after a while, but there a few games that manage to create such an absorbing atmosphere. [Nov 2014]

Eidolon demands patience from its audience. The glacial pace of its most basic operation, the fragmented mass of narrative provisions, and the initial sense of indistinguishable aesthetic diversity seem intent on wrecking Eidolon's sprawling sense of discovery. Sticking with it inevitably reveals a multifaceted excursion into an intimately assembled and oddly exotic interpretation of a distant Earth. The reward is putting it all together, provided you can summon the drive to find all the pieces.

The prospect of fresh exploration still holds a spell over me.

The problem is that by the time you get anywhere near something that resembles a scratch for your itch, the entire area of your body that prompted the search for it is already decaying, and just like an Alzheimer's patient without a GPS bracelet, you'll find yourself lost in the woods, confused and wondering what exactly it was that you were doing there in the first place, apart from chasing those kids off your lawn, of course.

Eidolon just randomly throws you into the middle of western Washington of the year c. 2400, leaving you only with an idea that humanity is in short gone. Who are you? What are you? Where should you go and what should you do there? The questions accumulate, and the answers are not coming. You have to find them by yourself. And so it begins one wannabe artistic adventure but of the value that will disappear like morning mist.