Walking through the vibrant, alien gardens of Ultros for the first time, I couldn’t help but draw a strange parallel to one of music history’s most enduring debates: Who is the true king of rock? It might sound like a stretch, but hear me out. Just as rock enthusiasts argue over whether Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, or Little Richard deserves that crown, players in Ultros face a similarly layered puzzle—only here, the mystery lies not in guitar riffs or stage presence, but in horticulture. I remember planting my first seed near a crumbling ledge, expecting a platform to sprout. Instead, I got a fruit that restored my health. It felt like showing up to a concert expecting Elvis and getting a folk singer—not bad, just… not what I anticipated. That moment of delightful confusion is exactly what makes Ultros’ gardening system so compelling, and honestly, a bit frustrating at times.
Let me paint you a picture. Ultros isn’t your typical metroidvania. One of the only friendly alien species you meet cultivates these sprawling, lush gardens all over the map, each plant offering unique benefits. Some bear fruits that heal you or upgrade abilities—I’ve counted at least six varieties, each with distinct colors and effects. Others have special traits that alter the environment: vines that create new pathways, thorny bushes that destroy obstacles, or glowing flowers that reveal hidden platforms. At first, I treated these plants like power-ups in any classic metroidvania—think Hollow Knight’s mothwing cloak or Ori’s bash ability. But here’s the twist: they’re not just complementary; they’re integral. I’d use a seed to grow a platform, only to realize it also cleared a blocked shortcut I’d passed three hours earlier. The interdependence is genius, but it’s also where things get messy. Without clear descriptions, planting seeds often felt like rolling dice. I’d invest time and resources, hoping for a game-changing ability, and end up with something underwhelming—like expecting a rock anthem and getting a slow ballad instead.
This brings me back to that age-old debate: Who is the true king of rock? In music, the answer often depends on what you value—innovation, influence, or sheer showmanship. Elvis brought rock to the masses, Chuck Berry pioneered its sound, and Little Richard injected it with raw energy. Similarly, in Ultros, the “king” of your journey depends on which seeds you prioritize. Early on, I leaned heavily on fruit-bearing plants, stacking healing items like a safety net. But later, I realized that environmental manipulators—the ones that reshape ledges or obliterate barriers—were the real game-changers. One particular seed, which I’ll call the “Vine Weaver,” allowed me to access a hidden area packed with upgrades, saving me roughly 45 minutes of backtracking. Yet, I’d ignored it for hours because its description was vague: “Grows with purpose.” Purpose? That’s about as helpful as calling Elvis the “King” without explaining why. The lack of clarity made me waste seeds—I’d estimate I misplanted around 30% of them in my first playthrough, leading to moments of frustration where I’d stare at a dormant plant and wonder, “Why isn’t this working?”
Fortunately, Ultros offers a clever solution mid-game: an ability to extract and replant seeds. It’s a lifesaver, letting you correct mistakes without permanent consequences. I remember stumbling upon this feature after accidentally planting a light-emitting seed in a pitch-black cavern—only to realize it was meant for a sun-drenched area to activate a switch. Being able to dig it up and relocate it felt like finding a rare B-side track that suddenly makes an artist’s legacy click. But even with this tool, mastering the system took time. I’d say it took me about 10–12 hours of gameplay to fully grasp the intricacies, and even then, I relied on community forums to decode some plant behaviors. For instance, one user noted that “crystalline seeds” only thrive near water sources, a detail the game never explicitly states. This trial-and-error approach mirrors how music fans dissect albums—piecing together liner notes, interviews, and live performances to understand an artist’s intent.
So, what’s the takeaway? Ultros’ gardening mechanics teach us that ambiguity can be both a strength and a weakness. On one hand, it encourages experimentation and community engagement—much like debating the true king of rock sparks conversations that keep music history alive. On the other, it can alienate players who prefer straightforward progression. Personally, I love the depth it adds; it makes the world feel more organic and less formulaic. But I also think the game could’ve included a simple guide, maybe an in-game journal with hints from the alien gardeners themselves. After all, even rock legends had producers to refine their sound. In the end, whether you’re navigating Ultros’ biomes or arguing over Elvis vs. Chuck Berry, the journey is about discovery—and sometimes, the wrong turn leads to the most memorable moments.
