In a conventional sliding block puzzle game featuring a protagonist (by which I mean Repton, Boulder Dash, and Kurushi; I couldn’t come up with any more in the time it took to write this blog article, but maybe elements of Zelda and Tomb Raider count) there is a degree of identity between the player and the player character. Even if the character is a green bipedal lizard wearing a t-shirt and jeans.
The player moves the character, the character moves the blocks (or avoids them, in the case of Kurushi). The player feels kinaesthetically involved. It would be fair to say that in Repton, the player is Repton the protagonist (thanks Wikipedia for telling me the name of the protagonist!).
In Floe, the player / protagonist is not so coupled. The blocks move, but Flo does not move them. The blocks move by a mysterious force; at least, it probably seems mysterious to Flo. The way Flo moves is slightly indirect too. The player causes a pulsating target to appear, that Flo clearly finds fascinating and feels compelled to move towards it whenever it appears. Even if she can’t.
90% of the mass of the floe is beneath the water. And yet the player can tilt it. About a point very near the surface. The player causes psycho-kinetic delusions in infant polar bears.
The player is god.