Hello everyone and welcome back to another blog post. Look, I know what you’re thinking. “A blog post about Bastion? In *2026*? Did I accidentally click on a time capsule from 2011?”
Relax. Grab your arthritis gloves and your nostalgia-flavored seltzer water. We’re going back to a simpler time. A time before live-service battle passes, before every trailer had a generic rap song, and when “indie darling” wasn’t just a synonym for “pixel-art roguelike #4,972.”
I’m talking about Bastion—the game that launched Supergiant Games into the stratosphere and introduced the world to the vocal cords of Logan Cunningham, a man whose voice is smoother than a freshly waxed Xbox 360.
The Problem with Apocalypses
If you’ve been hiding under a rock (or perhaps a floating chunk of Caelondia), you might not know the setup. You play as “the Kid,” a silent protagonist with the personality of a block of wood, who wakes up after the “Calamity” (the apocalypse, but fancy) to find the world literally crumbling around him.
The ground rises up to meet your feet as you walk, because apparently the universe couldn’t wait for you to finish your morning coffee before it decided to shatter into a million pieces. You collect weapons, smash things, and try to rebuild the Bastion so an old man can maybe, possibly, fix everything.
Simple stuff. Just your average Tuesday.
Why You Should Care (Even Now)
I have played Bastion on more platforms than most people have had hot dinners. I played it on Xbox 360 when it first dropped in the Summer of Arcade. I bought it again on PC. I bought it again on the Switch because I hate money and love having the same game on every plastic brick I own.
And here is the honest-to-goodness truth: It holds up.
Sure, the combat can feel a tad repetitive if you main the War Machete and just hold down the attack button. And yes, the story is delivered in a way that requires you to actually pay attention—a crime against humanity in an era where most of us scroll TikTok while “watching” a two-hour movie.
But that art style? The hand-painted, isometric dioramas that rise from the mist as you walk? Still gorgeous. The soundtrack by Darren Korb? Still a certified banger. It’s “acoustic frontier trip-hop,” a genre that sounds like I just made it up, but somehow works perfectly.
The Narrator: The Original “Live Commentary” Troll
I am not going to lie to you and say this game is perfect for everyone. But I will tell you that the narrator, Rucks, is the single greatest reason to play.
Back in 2011, this was revolutionary. A gravelly-voiced old man judging your every move? Commenting on how you keep falling off the level because you have the spatial awareness of a drunk gnat? It was magical.
In 2026, this just feels like the ultimate satire of our current content landscape. Rucks is essentially the original “react streamer.” He watches “the Kid” do stuff, provides witty commentary, and doesn’t even ask for likes and subs. Weirdly amazing for a game published by Warner Brothers, isn’t it?
Breaking Stuff is the Point
Let’s get into the weeds. The Distillery. The Arsenal. The Shrine.
Supergiant didn’t just throw a leveling system at you and call it a day. They gave you options. You want to drink some Spirits to get passive bonuses? Go ahead. You want to crank up the difficulty at the Shrine by “invoking Gods” (which basically means making every enemy an absolute damage-sponge nightmare)? Be my guest.
I once turned on all ten Gods at the same time. It went about as well as you’d expect—which is to say, I was violently murdered within seconds. But that freedom? That willingness to let the player break the game if they want to? That’s just good design.
The Verdict
Bastion is an isometric action RPG developed by Supergiant Games. It’s the one with the talking narrator who won’t shut up (in a good way), the floating ruins, and the soundtrack that lives rent-free in your head for fifteen years.
Players control “the Kid” as he fights through floating ruins to rebuild the Bastion following a world-shattering Calamity. While the core combat may become repetitive over long sessions, the variety of weapons and difficulty modifiers (via the Shrine) offer significant replayability.
Rating: Still a solid 9/10, even if you have to buy it for the fifth time on a console that hasn’t been invented yet.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go update my gaming backlog spreadsheet. Apparently, that’s a thing I do now. And in the words of the narrator: “The Kid… probably needs a shower.”