Hewn handholds and knee-high hedges are there for a reason. Think of them as the worldwide baby-proofing done by game designers, who must ensure that their protagonist is able to make it from one side of the adventure to the other without getting lost, or fatally slamming against an unbeatable obstacle. It's an unrealistic tweaking of life, but there's no fun in Lara Croft going home because that one chasm was just too wide.

The hero of Bastion treads literally upon this convenient truth, with a path rising from the earth miles below and solidifying his journey, piece by piece. From a purely selfish standpoint, it's awfully nice to have proof that the world evolves around you.

It's unclear what force has shattered the world, but its savior-to-be, The Kid, isn't in danger of getting lost amid the floating fragments that remain. If the quest expects you to go in a certain direction, an incomplete piece of land will signal you to approach and trigger the rise and assembly of a new environment. Acting as more than just a clever visual effect, it's an effective and immediate way to entangle you in the core of the story. It seems that nothing exists and nothing happens without your presence.