Gameplay is Art, and Rhythm Doctor Rules

(What you are about to read are scattered thoughts and ruminations right after I finished the game, they may not make sense, but I need to gush about this thing in the most passionate way I can, so I apologize)

I've been thinking about gameplay a lot recently, more specifically the value it holds as an artform in it of itself. There has been a couple of fascinating write-ups and perspectives on the topic as of recent, and that alone has made me feel even more optimistic about the relationship online conversations have with the artform, but above of all else it made me further cement my internalized beliefs that game is not only an avenue of which art can be achieved and experience, but something that holds art in it of itself simply by existing or through the ways its elements breathe in a space dictated by player interaction.

And I know ''art'' has kinda become a buzzword that evokes groans on the populace when talking about if something within videogames IS art, which I also think is good and that it signifies we are evolving (just as much as we degrade in some aspects, at least), but I don't think it's specifically used for the thing that makes a videogame a video game at its most basic level, like if talking about it in that level reduced the medium as a whole, as if there's no frontiers to be reached through the direct act of pushing a button.

Rhythm Doctor is about pushing just one button, and furthermore, it is an action dictated by the rhythm of the game itself. And that button is art.

There's something more beautiful than what words can express in every level of Rhythm Doctor, a game that venerates its own simple gameplay, an experience that understands just how much presentation can be a part of it, an album of love songs for a person sitting on a chair and pressing a button while it witnesses lifes go and come, develop and fracture, words that blend in melody and entropy that blends into the puzzles a single line and 7 beats, sometimes 5, sometimes 1, can have.

I've never seen any other game do the kinds of things Rythm Doctor does, even those that were aiming for something similar; it's fragmented act structure seems both a product of a early access release that started as a flash game and 3 levels, and the respect for variety, and at the end of act 6, something magical happens, something just as jaw-dropping as the lights and sonatas and window wizardry; you make a choice through the button, not one that comes directly presented or that amounts to a yes or no... one that is dictated by the gameplay, the ways you interact, and even more than that, the ways you don't.

There's art and beauty even in inaction, and sometimes, not pressing a button makes a life much brighter.

Papers, Please was the game that started my fascination and what made me look to gameplay through these lenses, and Rythm Doctor rekindles that fire and ties it all up with catharsis through beat variation. It is unbelievable to me just how much it does with the premise it starts off, but it has hooked me, and I don't want to let go.

I would have been fine with Mad Rad Dead (a game I marginally prefer because of my own sensibilities) being the only rhythm game that touched my soul this year, but now comes this, and it nearly broke me in the final credits.

There are a lot of hearts in the hospital, and all of them have an unique rhythm, unique stories and aspirations, unique prospects and dreams, and their final joint scream is to celebrate their fears and humanity, all in the most bangin’ way imaginable.

To that I say, hell fucking yeah, that’s the beauty of gameplay

Originally uploaded to Backloggd on March 22nd, 2026.

Thank you so much for reaching this point.