Like the richly layered story at its core, GRIS is many things at once: A spectacularly satisfying puzzle-platformer. A collection of watercolor paintings come to life. And a soul-stirring work of digital art—one that explores hope, grief, and the triumph of piecing a life back together after tragic loss.

Each of the game’s exquisitely hand-drawn levels is based on one of the five stages of grief. As you figure out how to traverse them, landscapes that began in monochrome (gris means “gray” in Spanish) gradually flood with color.

There are lessons in those windswept deserts and verdant forests; for example, in the underwater world, which represents depression, you learn to dive deep.

Despite its soothing, contemplative pace, GRIS is full of surprise and magic. Transform yourself into a stingray to nimbly navigate mazelike ocean caves. Soar through the air surrounded by butterflies. Or turn your flowing cloak into a massive stone block that braces you against the wind. From the ashes of your heartbreak spring wondrous abilities.

There’s no dying in GRIS. When you fall down a chasm or miss a jump, you simply make your way back up. And shadowy creatures—terrifying black birds or threatening inky eels—are merely obstacles to overcome on your journey.

GRIS masterfully integrates all of its beautifully realized elements, including a heartfelt score by chamber-pop group Berlinist. In one level, the music is so perfectly synced to the action, you can time your moves to its cadences.

Don’t be fooled by its name—GRIS is bursting with color. It’s an unforgettable experience that reminds us how joy, sorrow, and healing are often intertwined.