It's not always easy to stretch out our legs as gamers.  I'll raise my hand on that one.  I'm guilty.  In the past year there was more than one game I picked up that was suffixed with a Roman (or Arabic) numeral II, III, or IV.  But, in contrast to the times where it can be hard to stretch our legs, at times it's even harder to sit.  And be still.  Criminally few games bestow you with that simple pleasure.  There have been many times with many games that I've marveled at screenshots, or paused a pixelated video, all in the name of soaking in more details than could ever be possible caught midswing in whatever momentous direction I'm barreling towards, whatever endorphin-soaked booster shot a game has injected into my backside. 

But The Graveyard isn't that kind of game, if the ever-inadequate term "game" can even be used with a straight face in this instance.  In this case, we can don a polite countence and use the even more nebulous term "experience," were we so inclined.

Developed by the independent Belgian studio Tale of Tales and launched in Spring of last year (I only caught wind of this game when I saw the nominees for the 2009 Independent Games Festival), The Graveyard posits itself as the antithesis to what is conventionally perceived as a videogame.  And as with many things, some of the greatest depths can be plumbed from the simplest premises.  

You're an old woman clad in the vestements of old age, a cane gripped in your left hand to help along the hobble.  You're at the entrance of a graveyard.  And you make your way into the graveyard.  I make no apologies for that, because the brilliance is in the details, and The Graveyard has the ability--if you're of the disposition; perhaps the planets simply aligned for me just right this evening--to make you contemplate the fragility of the human experience.  (I will also, strange as this sounds, recommend that you play the demo through to completion, and then play the full game.  The full game will stir you and capture you unawares in what was seemingly a finite, understood, and unsurprising moment.)

As I traversed the graveyard, the gameworld slowly uncurled its fingers, one detail at a time.  In no particular order, my senses unerringly began to take in the sights and sounds of the graveyard.  Pigeons cooing, followed by a rustle of feathers.  Cicadas buzzing in the monochromatic warmth.  Clouds in relentless pursuit of one another, their shadows in pursuit of them.  The uneven crunch of gravel underfoot.  The distant barking of a dog.  Etched stone versus engraved skin.

I'm not going to give you the pleasure of hearing some caveat that goes "This game isn't for everybody!"  Because, to preempt the question as to whether you are or whether you aren't the type of person this game is meant for, you already know.