Disassembled and laid out for examination, Machinarium is a game of grand themes. Its narrative quietly boasts a host of sensational and evocative strands: a bomb plot with no discernible motive, opportunistic abduction, callous assault, arbitrary worship and hopeless institutionalism. Yet at its heart, Machinarium is about one small and unassuming robot whose name is never offered but who I’ve taken to calling Bob.
Bob isn’t trying to change the world; he just wants to reclaim his place in it after a freak occurrence sees him unceremoniously dumped in a scrap yard. He has no discernible powers, just the rather mundane ability to extend his metallic midriff to reach slightly higher than his diminutive stature otherwise allows. He can also contract his tin torso to make himself yet smaller, so in human terms, he can stand on tiptoes and squat on the ground. No, Bob is not marked for greatness. He’s an ordinary robot who we happen to catch during an extraordinary day.