Matt Nava must have wild dreams. At thatgamecompany, he was art director on 2012’s universally acclaimed Journey, a minimal but deep, near existential exploration of humanity, played out via the widescreen vistas of the worlds within our heads and beyond our minds.

Since he founded Giant Squid Games, the studio released another pair of titles – Abzû and The Pathless – that sought to further depict the immensity of nature as the de facto meaning of life, drawing these settings in a technicolor style and captivating storytelling format that they believe – with some justification – is unreachable via any other medium.

Sword Of The Sea is Giant Squid’s first game in five years and compounds Neva’s reputation as a figure driven by a fantastical imagination, his vision once again shot through with a vividly absorbing amalgamation of the past, present and future. But despite the otherworldly, psychedelic triggers that ignite this and his other releases, it turns out Nava’s inspirations are rather more prosaic than those salvaged from the far-out dimensions of his psyche.

Because, beneath the ablaze surface – which flickers with activity and adventure – Sword Of The Sea actually has its roots in the everyday. That’s not to say these core inspirations – snowboarding, surfing and skateboarding – are humdrum, pedestrian pleasures, rather the pastimes of the brave and the bold who want to live on the edge of both life and a thick wedge of solid and – ideally – unbreakable matter.

As his previous titles have suggested, Nava is a fan of extreme sports, particularly when they intersect with the ocean and its underwater residents. He believes there is more to these pursuits than a base rush of adrenaline, explaining in a recent interview: “I don’t think we can force you to have, like, a spiritual awakening or something. But I do think that we can emulate the kind of environment and conditions that gave me something like that.”

The Wraith’s progress

You play as the Wraith, a wordless, airborne gladiator who doesn’t need to speak because the blue flames billowing from his skull tell you all there is to know. Something like a Tony Hawk for the Blade Runner generation, he rides a gleaming, indestructible plank that is part board, part sword and is – disappointingly – unlikely to be available in your nearest Supreme stockists anytime soon.

Once more, the premise of the game is simple and the storyline, as such, perfunctory. That said, an allegory for the real world, real time decline of Earth’s ecosystem is apparent as you navigate a vibrantly eye-popping spectrum of locations, solving the rudimentary, repeating puzzles that are built into each region and deliver water to the ravaged land, reawakening a verdant landscape and aquatic cast. However, the mind-bending mechanics and attendant cosmic backdrops are anything but straightforward.

Across Saharan sand dunes, turquoise Maldivian seas and Massif Central whiteouts – frequently embedded with half pipes – you navigate the Wraith on his supersonic ‘Hoversword’, using an expanding but never complex set of controls.

Seemingly informed by both reality and fantasy, he can traverse sun scorched ruins in what could be the last days of the Roman Empire, leave a holographic vapor trail in his wake pulling stunts through the dusty canyons of a reimagined Tatooine and skid to a dashing stop in an eerie, cavernous gothic monastery, illuminated by the primary colors of a stained-glass window. It’s a beautiful experience.

Flow motion

In many ways Sword Of The Sea establishes a new high score in video gaming’s ongoing quest to incarnate the hallowed concept of flow. Popularized in the 1975 book Beyond Boredom And Anxiety by Hungarian-American psychologist Mihály Csíkszentmihályi, this locked on state of mind has long been associated with the most captivating and immersive titles.

“Our games celebrate fluid movement, avoid hyper violence, and are approachable for kids and adults alike without compromising on depth, stakes, or meaning,” explain Giant Squid of their modus operandi.

In the lead up to release, Nava has spoken of the “meditative” qualities of this game, which is an addictive headspace to many of those who participate in the aforementioned activities, particularly when carving new pathways through water or snow, as you frequently can in Sword Of The Sea. With spectacular graphical fluidity and fidelity, the impossible is made possible in the mountainous (uphill) downhill racing and 300mph ski jumping of the Shadow Tundra level game highlight. Certainly, Ski Sunday never went this far off-piste.

While there are few other participants, the hypnotic aura is underscored by the inclusion of an elegant catalogue of marine life that – at their most heavyweight – provide an additional vehicle to uncover the eight levels spanning the single digit runtime. The awe-inspiring appearance of Megalodon-sized orcas, sting rays and now extinct Elasmosaur reptiles – and the opportunity to climb onboard – has a singular appeal, which amplifies the epic sense of scale framing both them and the graphically abundant environments within which the game is housed.

Behold “the time before time”

In its mythical lore – fittingly, the game takes place in “the time before time” – and reconfigurable terrain, there’s something of Zelda here. As the ice cool lead bounces across tangerine terracotta rooftops, you are reminded of the physical urban challenges presented by Stray or the Assassin’s Creed series. Elsewhere, the endless runner, sword attack DNA of Neva is also redolent of this game world. But, really, Sword Of The Sea is unlike anything else you might have played.

Equally, that’s not to say it feels entirely original. Anyone who has picked up a title helmed by Nava will be familiar with many of the atmospheric, recurrent creative design archetypes – Arabic-style scriptures and ancient cave drawings – and the insistently wise and wistful soundtrack, which is once again crafted by Austin Wintory, who remains the only video game composer to be nominated for a Grammy for Journey.

In truth, as the game progresses, the dazzling ambience and rote gameplay become somewhat cloying and repetitive. For example, driving a great white shark through a mountainside, nihilistically smashing icebergs, feels much less like the cited “spiritual awakening” and rather more a curious and deadening task. Moreover, as Sword Of The Sea nears its conclusion, Giant Squid reach for a conventional and overblown final boss dogfight, when so much that comes before indicates a determination not to be hamstrung by such limitations.

Does it matter? A little. But I’d still like to take a bite of the cheese Matt Nava is chomping on before he falls asleep.

Should I play Sword Of The Sea?:

Play it if…