You might have seen that my esteemed colleague Riley MacLeod has written a piece about how double jumps suck. Respectfully, he can eat shit.
I do not know exactly how he worded his argument, because in the spirit of fairness, we both agreed not to read each others’ pieces until they had both been published. However, this is the easiest debate in the world to win, because double jumps are one of the few objectively good things on this planet crafted by man’s greedy, grubby hands. Much like a double jump, I will begin this piece on the simplest terms and then leap into increasingly exhilarating echelons of complexity.
To start: A double jump is a jump, except twice. You know how jumping is just the best? A thrilling climb up to a sublime zenith, followed by an inevitable fall that reminds us that we’re all the same – neither gods nor birds, but merely human beings? OK so, a double jump is that, but at the apex – in that split-second liminal space between rise and fall where you’re free from gravity, responsibility, and capitalism – you get to do it again. And you go even higher. As a result, the fall becomes more perilous, but at the same time, you also become even more agile. You gain the tiniest sliver of extra time to maneuver, and that often makes all the difference.
Make no mistake: Jumps are never fully within our control. They are things of chaos, which is what makes them a more interesting game mechanic than, say, flying. There is always room for error. A double jump allows you to tame some of the tension inherent in jumping, but it’s still present – sometimes more so. Think about all the times in games that you’ve made a big leap only to feel like you’re gonna fall short. Will the second jump allow you to catch the ledge with your elbows, to narrowly clamber to safety? Or was it a fool’s errand all along? The longer you spend in the air, the longer the uncertainty. The longer the excitement.
Where locomotion is concerned, double jumps are unmatched. Think about all the games people say have the best movement: Titanfall 2? Double jump. Doom (2016)? Double jump. The criminally underrated 2008 iteration of Prince of Persia? Double jump. Celeste? Basically a series of double jumps. Mario? A buffet of double jumps, including one that murders Yoshi. Smash Bros? Double jumping: the fighting game. Neon White? Double jumping: the game. And of course there’s Warframe, which contains the greatest multi-part jump in history.
Many of the best games also allow you to pair double jumps with other techniques. For example, I’ve built out my Cyberpunk 2077 character such that she can chain double jumps into air dashes, allowing me to soar down Night City’s mean streets (and only occasionally get hit by oncoming traffic). I don’t even drive cars in the game anymore. I just catapult myself around like some kind of cybernetically-enhanced circus freak. It never gets old. I do this in combat, too. I am a high-flying, gleefully haphazard street samurai. What could be better?
Some people – possibly named Riley – might complain that double jumping isn’t realistic. What am I using for leverage, after all? The air? To that I say: Who cares. Video games transport us to fantastical worlds where anything is possible. Double jumps do not fear the absurd; they embrace it. For an example, look no further than one of my favorite double jumps of all time: Torrent’s double jump in Elden Ring. Torrent, crucially, is a horse. There is just something magnificent about a regal steed – one of the most famous land animals – becoming temporarily untethered from this earth.
It’s made all the better by the fact that Elden Ring is set in a dour, apocalyptic world, but here’s this fucking horse, treating the air like a trampoline. Despite how fully realized the game’s setting is, it never loses sight of the fact that it’s a video game. Unlike other, less confident games, it leans into that fact. The juxtaposition of gorgeous seriousness and gamey ludicrousness only heightens the humor in what I would argue – and have argued! – is a very intentionally humorous game. In Elden Ring, you and your dumb horse are the butt of every joke. The horse’s double jump is practically a thesis statement.
At this point, what else do I need to say? I’ve made my case. Double jumps are one of gaming’s finest innovations – a triumph of both mechanical artisanship and thematic world building. They represent video games at their best: silly and strange, but also brave – unafraid to explore beyond the bounds of what might be considered conventional or traditional, even if people will laugh at them for that. Every day I wake up, step outside, and wonder, “How can I embrace the spirit of double jumping in my life today?” If everybody just did that, we’d all live in a better world.
