Genre: Puzzle
Developer: Valve
Publisher: Valve

Metaphorically, Portal represents a sharp divide between the "truth" that is told, and the "truth" that is real, making a dramatic anti-existentialist statement. The game's imagery provides the literal split; it is just as sharp, and almost sickeningly chilling. As the game progresses, the seams of the clean, pristine test lab give way to ugly, artless, industrial horror, and the mad scribblings of those previously caught in the guts of the machine.

Sometimes less is more, and Portal is eerily devoid of music, except at key times. The usual near-silence serves a few purposes: it contributes to the cold, immaculate sensations of the test lab, it puts the focus on the mysterious, pseudo-mechanical voice speaking to you throughout your endeavors-- endeavors of unclear motive or origin-- and, most importantly, makes moments of sudden aural explosion shocking and delightfully distressing.

It should almost be a pre-requisite to experience Narbacular Drop before tackling Portal, as so much of the superficial-- the gameplay mechanics-- are stripped straight from that title. The puzzles are clever, but their only meaningful purpose is to keep the player awake and aware-- to provide mental prodding and titillation-- so that the story and setting can take their full effect.

Much like the cult classic film "Cube", Portal drops the player, with zero context, into what appears to be some sort of laboratory experiment, and asks them to experience its terrors. Unlike "Cube" however, Portal is a more obvious "man versus machine", or, perhaps, "man versus the man upstairs" statement. If Portal were a film, or a novel, it might be considered hopelessly derivative. As a videogame? It is a drastic paradigm-shifter, a true progression, and a truly fantastic game to boot.