I was reminded of Limbo's brilliance not through another recent playthrough, but over a conversation at that most venerable of institutions, the office Christmas party. In fact, I haven't played Limbo since launch week, such is the indelible impression it can leave on even the most jaded of gamers. Actually, that last bit isn't true.
It's beautiful monochrome aesthetic has also been held up as a sign of indie gaming's innate conservatism, and the resolutely unforgiving gameplay is considered by many, not unfairly, a little too old-school in its punishment, a touch regressive when compared to the likes of Braid.
But I fear this is missing the point. Limbo is a game of memory - the use of memory that it demands on you, the player, and pointedly the memories it leave you with once the small yet perfectly-formed experience ends. "Have you seen that game Limbo?!" my excited colleague asked. "Yes, yes I have", I replied, jumping onto the restaurant's table whilst punching the air. There wasn't another game quite like it in 2010.
You can read my original review of Limbo here.
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