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Limbo is a shadowy, murky place rendered entirely black and white, without a hint of color. There’s a grainy quality to it, like you’re watching an old silent film. Which is appropriate since there’s no music or dialog anywhere in the game. And there’s only the barest hint of a story.

Needless to say, Limbo is not the kind of puzzle/adventure game that comes along every day.

In the Xbox Live Arcade downloadable title Limbo, you play as a nameless young boy who enters the strange, otherworldly realm of Limbo in search of his sister. That’s all we ever find out about the protagonist of the game, and even the deftly-handled ending provides no new insights on the circumstances surrounding his existence. He’s rendered merely in silhouette, with two bright, white dots as eyes. (His shape reminds me of Baljeet on Phineas & Ferb.)

But don’t mistake it as a game for kids.

Your goal is a simple one: traverse the realm of Limbo and make it through alive. Along the way, you’ll encounter dozens of puzzles — which start out as clever and gradually grow to downright evil — that primarily take the form of obstacles that stand in your way. Many of these obstacles are even hazardous to your health, so making it through this nebulous world can be quite a challenge. There are creepy creatures, massive mechanical devices, and even alterations to gravity to contend with. The trick is making this world work for you instead of against you.

Limbo‘s interface is ultra minimalist. There’s no HUD, no points to collect (though there are a fair amount of Achievements to score), and nothing for you to wield. Aside from moving with the left thumbstick, there are only two things you can do: jump and use. This latter action is what allows you to climb, grab, drag, push, and swing your way through Limbo. Be sure and explore your surroundings; reaching some of Limbo‘s most remote locations, and you’ll be rewarded with Achievements or Avatar items.

Limbo is really about setting a mood, not entirely unlike Flow or Journey. Only this time the mood is trepidation. It’s six-to-eight hours of intense, lonely, ominous traversing through a very unwelcoming place that fights you at every turn. It’s just downright unsettling to take a tiny, helpless child through a big, bad, sinister forest world where he can literally be torn to shreds (you can turn off the silhouetted gore if you wish). Often I found myself holding my breath as I tried to time a jump just right or watched for a spider-like beasty to narrowly avoid smashing me into the ground.

It’s a stunning, creative way of delivering what’s ultimately a collection of puzzles, and it works beautifully. Limbo is an unforgettable experience, representing something more than a puzzler in a unique setting. The sum of its parts add up to something that actually commits — dare I say it? — art.