Cairn review – Climbing a mountain has never felt so good

Aava’s got the right idea: she’s had enough, and she wants to get away from civilisation. I’m not quite convinced of the way she chooses to do that, though. Personally, I’d have probably chosen a spa break, or a secluded lodge out in the woods. Not Aava. She’s chosen to climb a mountain. Mount Kami, where hundreds of people before her have tried and failed. And so begins Cairn, a game simply all about climbing.

Aava’s been climbing since she was three years old. Now, well into adulthood, it’s her life. When she first begins her arduous ascent, you don’t quite know why she’s there. It doesn’t matter. She’s there because she wants to be, and that’s all you need to know to keep pressing upwards. Progress may be incremental, sometimes even glacial. But upwards you’ll go, pushing ever closer to the peak of Kami.

I can’t speak to how realistic Cairn actually is, because I don’t have enough of a death warrant to actually want to go free-climbing up a mountain face. But it feels realistic. With every movement you make, you feel the risk and danger; the great, open drop that separates you from the ground (and definite death) is always right there, teasing you. The further you progress up Kami, the more dangerous and perilous it gets, and the more adrenaline will rush through your bones with each tiny movement your hands and feet make.

You’ll curse and swear at every misplaced limb, but you won’t be alone: Aava often swears and curses along with you, shouting angrily if she messes up, if a badly-placed hand grip sends her careening off the rock. Providing you’ve had the sense to set up a piton, anchoring Aava to the rockface with rope, she should never fall too far. But sometimes you forget. Sometimes you get cocky. Or sometimes you simply don’t have enough pitons.

This is certainly the most realistic-feeling climbing game I’ve played. There are hints of Jusant here, for sure. But Cairn feels more treacherous than Jusant ever did, the life-or-death stakes constantly hovering close to you. Each limb needs to be moved independently, with you seeking out ledges, cracks in the rock of small holes you can grip onto. You’ll need to be careful but headstrong, quick to think but cautious to act, because just one wrong move could spell disaster.

Don’t expect guidance as to where to go, either. This isn’t the sort of game that gives you clear directions, and you certainly can’t quick-foot it straight up a rockface, Link in Breath of the Wild style. Figuring out the ideal route is perhaps the main draw of Cairn. If you’re lucky, you might find an old map that a previous climber has left, highlighting a specific route. But you most certainly won’t have one to cover your entire journey. For the most part, it’s down to you and your own senses as to which way to go.

I’ve often found myself 15 or 20 minutes into a climb before realising I’m at a dead end, with no more ledges or hand-holes for me to make my way on. Sometimes you need to move backwards to make progress. Going back down is the only option. It can be frustrating, but Cairn is designed to be a game that you should take slowly and carefully; it’s not one to be rushed through.

Besides, it pays to take your time and do a bit of exploring. It’s absolutely unfeasible to see everything in one playthrough, because there are so many possible routes. But you’ll find caves, abandoned camps, old habitats and plenty more as you ascend Mount Kami, all of it doing a great job of environmental storytelling. There are notes to be found, cave paintings to take in and plenty more.

Unlike Jusant, which was a wordless adventure, Cairn injects personality by providing you with cutscenes, incoming voice notes and even some characters to meet along the way. They’re sporadic, never quite enough to get in the way of the action, but they do a great job of adding some levity to what can otherwise be a very serious affair. All of this adds a nice flavour to the game, even if all you care about is making it to the top.

You can’t simply just climb, though. You need to take care of Aava along the way, and that means finding places to camp, repairing her equipment, ensuring her hands are in good health and, most importantly, keeping her fed, hydrated and warm. In fairness, Aava doesn’t exactly start the journey very well prepared. If I was off up a mountain on a journey that could take weeks, I’d have about 60 packets of super noodles in my backpack. Not Aava. Two bars of chocolate and one ready meal is all she’s rocking and, if you’re like me, you’ll have demolished that before you’ve even finished the tutorial.

There’s an element of survival here, then. You can pick the odd wildflower that you can cook and eat, turning it either into a tea or a soup. And you’ll occasionally come across an abandoned backpack or a lockbox that might have something useful in it. You’ll also need to top your water up at pools, springs or waterfalls. Being prepared is key, as it’s easy to run out half-way up a massive rockface – and there’s nothing more frustrating than dehydration being the reason for your failure, rather than a bungled climb.

You can access your backpack just about anywhere, so food and drink are always readily available to Aava, providing you’ve got some. But you can only cook when you’re at a camp, and you can only camp in specific locations, so it’s always worth cooking everything you can whenever you get the opportunity. While camps are in abundance early on in Cairn, they become much scarcer the higher you get – when you need them the most. They’re easily missed, too, depending on the routes you take.

All of this goes to say that Cairn is a tough beast. It’s not a game that goes easy on you. While it doesn’t necessarily want to punish you for punishment’s sake (unless you play on hard mode, that is), it also never hands you victory on a plate. You have to work for it – and sometimes, it really does feel like work, too. It can feel like the odds are stacked against you when you’re on a particularly tricky bit of the mountain, and repeatedly falling or failing can be tirelessly frustrating.

But at the same time, when you do finally overcome an obstacle, or make it past a fiendish bit of the climb, few games feel quite as rewarding. There’s a sense of personal victory to Cairn; it’s your achievement that you made it as far as you did, with no guidance or help other than your own perseverence. It’s also strangely relaxing – apart from the times you find yourself repeatedly falling, that is. There’s something soothing about moving one limb at a time, carefully ascending and getting that tiny bit closer to your goal. For all its frustrations, it’s a game I keep thinking about, and one I’m pretty sure I’m going to be going back to, just to experience it all again.