Psychonauts is not like other games. It's ostensibly a platformer, and you do spend a lot of time in the game jumping, swinging, and climbing. However, to just label the game a platformer and call it a day would be doing it a tremendous disservice, because the platforming is probably the worst and least important part of the experience. In fact, if you were to break things down and describe everything that is wrong with the execution of platforming in Psychonauts, it would probably sound like the most horribly broken game in the world. But Psychonauts is not like other games.
It seems like other games at first. It has a hub world, in the form of Camp Whispering Rock, a summer camp for young psychics; it has collectibles; it has a double-jump. So far, so good. Or at least it would be, were it not for a number of small problems that make moving about the world an occasionally frustrating experience.

Dying typically isn't too big of a deal, provided you don't do it too often. If you lose all of your lives, though, you'll be treated to one of the game's many long loading screens as you're kicked out of the level. Then, joy of joys, you get to sit through another loading screen as you jump back in. Once you do this, you're right back where you left off, so the mechanism really serves no point other than to make you sit and wait. It's irritating, especially since you spend so much time looking at loading screens anyway.
The controls can feel inconsistent at times as well. There were several instances where I would fail to double jump, or activate one of my psychic powers, only to have it immediately switch back off for no apparent reason. This is highly inconvenient when you're counting on your invisibility to hide you from psychic bears, or your shield to protect you from the rockets of the lungfish navy.

This works to the game's advantage because it has so many things for you to collect. Throughout the game, you'll be searching out arrowheads, PSI challenge markers, cards, mental cobwebs, figments, memory vaults, emotional baggage, and—maybe a little ironically—scavenger hunt items. Finding these things never really becomes an especially laborious task, though, because you're likely to come across most of them incidentally as you scour the camp grounds and various levels looking for people having conversations.
Maybe even more impressive than the game's excellent dialog is the fact that a great deal of the game's story and sense of humor is conveyed without any direct exposition at all, instead relying on things built into the level design and gameplay. The designers had a lot of freedom in this regard because all of the levels—with the exception of the mental institution and the camp—take place inside the minds of game's characters. Some of them, like the topsy turvy world of the Milkman Conspiracy, will undoubtedly make you laugh, while things like Milla's room of nightmares will give you an unsettling look at characters' darker sides. Out of all the games in the world that trade on their deep, complex storylines, only a handful actually have well-developed characters that you feel you understand by the end of the game. Psychonauts takes characters and builds entire worlds around them, most of them designed to not only give you an understanding of why they are the way they are, but to help them come to grips with their personal demons.

Psychonauts is a horribly broken game in a lot of ways. Playing through it, you'll most likely die several times due to the poor collision detection and inconsistent controls. It's also kind of brilliant. The game's combination of great writing and inspired level design work to make it into something really unique and totally deserving of the praise heaped upon it by the five people who played it.
