Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5: Wondrously Weird & Borderline Bonkers

Now we arrive at the final section in the series. As I mentioned at the outset, these last two in my opinion best represent the spirit and style of games in the exploratory sphere I’m hoping to shine a light on. They are the most exemplary and arguably ambitious of the bunch, serving as my final pieces of evidence that encompass the essence of the entire endeavor.

For the penultimate title, throw on a trench coat and fedora, as we head to the seedy bars and back alleys of Backbone. A debut by developer EggNut, published by Raw Fury (who I’ve come think of as a lower key Annapurna, picking up very solid titles in the last few years.) Released June 2021, it was self-described as “a post-noir roleplaying detective adventure in which you step into the shoes of a raccoon private investigator in dystopian Vancouver.” Backbone is actually more of a laidback side-scroller/adventure game heavier on dialogue exchanges and atmospheric themes. It’s largely linear, with only the barest illusion that choices/options might alter the storyline. So just a note, it’s not strictly a traditional RPG in the above advertised sense.

Backbone is instead a story set in an alternate near-future world filled with anthropomorphic animals channeling various noir chestnuts played off against your role as downtrodden detective Harold Lotar. Harold is a haggard raccoon P.I. living in the dumps and struggling to make ends meet. So par for the course in his line of work and this genre, he is tasked with investigating mysterious happenings and disappearances in the city. Backbone introduces all this in a straightforward manner, initially hitting the expected notes of the source material. And then in a daring display, it veers jarringly into grindhouse/horror territory. I would venture that when that turn comes (and trust me you’ll know it immediately) it is the litmus test/breaking point test for most.

The scene in question hits roughly 1/3^rd into the plot, and from there fully embraces it, sprinting through and reveling in its pure left-turn oddness. I completely understand the view that it might be too much of a stretch, and could turn many off. But my view is that’s exactly the point. It’s a ballsy artistic choice both in terms of the internal themes/narrative, as well as big ask for the player’s suspension of disbelief. Yet I maintain it’s worth it in the end precisely because of its boldness and insistence on seeing it through. What Backbone ends up feeling like is a Raymond Chandler novel that, when time came to apply his signature trope, the man with the gun who came through the door was David Cronenburg. It’s certainly not a pitch you hear every day, but Backbone is determined to committing to it.

Backbone incorporates broad questions regarding applicable contemporary concerns such as: the morality/ethics of possibly beneficial (but highly experimental) technology, biological modifications and the side effects of their use on both society and the environment in the long-term. In addition it layers in more personal existentialist anxieties that are treated equally importantly, as imparted by the scale of viewpoints from the range of characters who occupy various echelons in this version of Vancouver. The quality of the interactions/musings on these topics isn’t profoundly engaging in every single instance. Many discussions are realistic, resonant and emotional. But at times they can turn into an immersion breaking ‘trying too hard/pretentious’ bent of arthouse pseudo-philosophical/mystical metaphysical ruminations. More often than not though there’s enough substance and insight to keep it all mostly compelling. In this way, Backbone is reminiscent of Kentucky Route 0, and that is a positive comparison in my book.

While certain plot elements and conversations may be polarizing, there’s one aspect of Backbone I don’t think can be derided in any way: its top-notch pixel art. It is some of the very best, noticeable even among the many titles doing the same. Strolling across refuse-strewn motel parking lots and deteriorating theatres and later through corporate residences situated next to high-rise labs, the world never ceases to impress and one-up itself visually at every turn. Backbone’s world building is a big part of its strength and appeal, as locations practically bleed the style through the screen in their fantastic renditions. This is only elevated by brief moments of switching to pulpy comic cut scenes during key moments and connecting chapters. And of the jazz-y noir-ish leaning soundtracks in the discussion, Backbone features easily the superior score, solidifying its place in the field.

The graphic landscape is limited in scope but densely packed with minute details, clever background inclusions, and the right amount of believability to the point where despite the nature of its furry populace, everything in Backbone seems perfectly natural. As you spend time in this world and mull with its characters, you end up wanting to know more about these creatures and their reality. How did they come to inherit this version of Earth? What really is going on both within and outside the bounds of the narrative? Will there actually be any answers forthcoming? 

Backbone reaches perhaps just a little too far to totally achieve its intents. It presents a blatant challenge to the audience fairly early on, accepting that it might lose members of that audience for it. I won’t argue that bits are clumsily integrated and reactions will vary extensively. You may well find it various shades of frustrating, boring, and/or disappointing. But that’s also why I highly recommend Backbone, and placed it at this spot on the list. It’s a stimulating work on the forefront of experimentation. It supplies an array of topics which take center stage over mechanics/gameplay, before throwing an entirely genre-changing curveball into the mix. It then hopes you’ll give it enough credence to take the leap and see the rest of it through as a whole, including its own cracks in the pavement. I whole-heartedly second that you do exactly that. If nothing else Backbone is a piece of conversation starting art. Where exactly that conversation goes depends highly on personal subjectivity, but it is assured to be interesting ground no matter the case.

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Finally we come to the last title, of which I have the most to say about– UnDungeon. Kickstarted in 2017 by Laughing Machines (great studio name too) it’s been out in various early access builds since, being fine-tuned and updated along the way. Research shows it was originally supposed to be pure rogue-like with some RPG mechanics thrown in. Over the course of development it pivoted into a more narrative focused title, yet still retaining some vestigial elements of the former. It was eventually published by tinyBuild and released November 2021, barely promoted and buried like so many others. Until I got my hands on it. Let me state before we go any further that my review/impression of UnDungeon will be all over the place, much like this game itself. I know it’ll seem disjointed at parts, and while I’m attempting to keep it all coherently manageable, there’s a lot to break down and delve into, much of it crossing over at various points on the Venn diagram of topics. So just fair warning for what lies ahead.

First thing’s first: I hate the title. That is, the actual name “UnDungeon.” Within an hour of playing I came up with numerous, better, and more appropriate ones. I know that’s pretty subjective, but I’m just saying there are definitely better choices and if you end up playing it, I bet you’ll agree. But let’s focus on the actual game itself. The funny thing is, even though I saved this one for last and it’s ostensibly the most ‘out-there’ title, in fact I would actually posit it’s exceedingly familiar at a cursory glance.

UnDungeon channels the golden era of SNES action J/RPGs, and admittedly that hits near and dear to me. Nostalgia is certainly a factor in this choice, but to give an idea, the fairest and most recent-ish comparison I’ll make is to Hyper Light Drifter, at least in terms of presentation and broad aspects. A more obscure reference might be that it reminds me quite a bit of the Numenera games, both Torment: Tides and the parent tabletop incarnation. UnDungeon plays out like an Arthur C. Clarke/Philip K. Dick/Frank Herbert acid trip cocktail composed of ambitious byzantine sci-fi. Your grand journey begins as you are reborn an animated construct from the subspace-time stratum of proto-matter that permeates the membrane of the Void. Brought into existence by a recent reality-shattering cataclysm to herald and thus prevent the further collapsing of the seven capital dimensions after The Shift, by finding the decaying world piers and activating their energy cores because…!

Immediately all this high stakes cosmic setup and lore is thrown at you from the intro onwards and never really lets up. If anything, it accelerates into increasing complexity as it builds and veers towards plaid levels of fucking absurd. Every single word of it though is clearly lovingly chosen by artists/writers who are, if nothing else, extremely enthusiastic about sharing this Frankenstein’s monster world they’ve painstakingly crafted. Stripped down to its bare components, it is unlikely to be anything not seen before (up to and including a literal bazar of the bizarre.) However UnDungeon filters everything through its own twist on a multiverse spanning psychedelic sci-fi yarn, populated with a diverse cast of characters. The developers have it all firmly laid out in their minds and are attempting to beam it directly to you via a hypnotically absorbing fever dream, in video game form.  

There are certainly criticisms to be made. Sure, it doesn’t all make sense, all the time. Yet after a few sessions with it I had to ask myself: were Chrono Trigger, Secret of Mana, Illusion Gaia and all those other beloved worlds in the same vein from my youth any less obtuse? Maybe. Maybe I’ve absorbed so much since those, and become so irrevocably cynical and jaded in the wake that I’m unable to see with fresh eyes. The point is even given all that, UnDungeon contains so much of the kind of setup I’ve always enjoyed, it could be a modern spiritual successor to them and the possible entry point for younger audiences to experience for the first time. A conduit in the medium to immerse themselves in the way I did with the above mentioned titles when I was but a kindling. And crucially, like them, UnDungeon is so impressively sure of itself; backed by an unwavering sense of confidence that you’ll find something cool in the swirling tapestry of the setting, one with an esoteric history and epic destiny that you are now a part of.

That might be as good as place as any to segue into the presentation, because fucking hell, visually it’s incredible. Boasting some of the most stunningly detailed 16 bit pixel art I’ve ever encountered, and the absolute best of the bunch on this list, I was constantly awed by its direction. Matched to a subdued and melancholic Western-tinged synth soundscape, it is truly masterful at establishing the look and feel of its decaying world/s. Together they do a seamless of job of selling this rich universe with superb atmosphere and striking style. I don’t have much else to say on this front because it really is that amazing and that simple. Just take a look and see for yourself. If that doesn’t impress you, then you are as emotionless as one of the soulless semi-immortals trapped in the static abyss between the matrixes of reality.  

Let’s talk now about the mechanics and gameplay. As mentioned, UnDungeon’s design is generally composed of easily recognizable templates. I can literally list off the elements it contains one by one and I guarantee every single one you’ve seen before. Quests are fare like: find this techno-magic McGuffin, rescue some NPCs, discover a monster’s cave and slay it, etc. There’s a karma system, companions, upgrades, inventory management and equipment upkeep. Weapons/effects/stats/items possibilities are all extensive, with a myriad array of choices and an equally robust crafting/trading system. Perhaps even too extensive and robust, owing to its rogue-like roots.

Combat is deceptively simple/familiar but soon enough becomes Souls-like in dickishness. It’s easy enough to grasp to start, the core is real-time hack-n-slash with spells/abilities. But everything soon ramps up, introducing some weird and sometimes outright unnecessary, not to mention player-unfriendly wrinkles. The enemy placement/encounters along with their ranking system can swiftly become overwhelming bordering on insurmountable. Yet fittingly, that is perfectly in keeping with the nature of UnDungeon as a whole: cramming all these systems, none of particularly unfamiliar design, and piling them on top of each other until it all threatens to collapse completely, just like the multiverses in its plot. It can be daunting in its pacing of narrative and mechanics, but if you’re willing to invest and give it a chance, everything becomes somewhat more manageable, up to a point.

I say that because in full disclosure, I poured about 15 hours into UnDungeon, reaching what I thought was the end, and would have been satisfied if it were so. Instead, that was seemingly just the conclusion of one world as it were, as afterwards the story continued, and a whole other map beyond the first opened up. The problem was by that point I discovered I was hopelessly underpowered and understocked, while because of the way the enemies work, the difficulty ramped up into nigh-impossibility.   

And lest you think me not of the ‘get-gud’ mentality, I ended up restarting a new game and attempting to use the foreknowledge and training to do exactly that. Except the game got more grueling, just as difficult if not more the second time around. On this playthrough I only made it to about the first third of the initial area until I hit a wall I just couldn’t power through, even though I had overcome it before and knew what was ahead. So while I did put it aside, I still could not stop thinking about it, and earnestly wanting to see it all through to the end eventually. While I may never do so, the simple fact that it was able to provoke that sensation so intently is a huge credit in my book and something that honestly hasn’t occurred much with any recent games to that degree, making it one of the most impactful to me. 

Backbone and UnDungeon are exotic and strange beasts for sure. Perhaps one more than the other. Nevertheless they both clearly have a specific well-thought-out vision/intent/ambition behind them, even if the execution can be uneven, whether intentional or not. They’re at once gorgeous, bizarre, flawed, and awesome pieces of gaming artistry. Messy but not in a janky way. Pretentious yet un-ironically exuberant in sharing their depictions and presentations. They channel well-worn mechanics and story threads in an identifiable retro aesthetic filtered through a kaleidoscopic post-modern lens, imbuing themselves with a sense of newfound wonder.

These are inspiring fringe works from aspiring avant-garde creators. Those who are tinkering with intriguing takes and off-kilter risks, away from the tired dullness of AAA main stream (and even arguably the established indie scene.) If, like me, that sounds appealing to you, then you absolutely owe it to yourself to experience them firsthand. As in my view they embody the hopeful possibility that gaming art like this can continue to exist and thrive in the face of everything that seems set against it, and that is the true cause for celebration.

So with that, I hope you enjoyed my breakdown of these titles, and again I urge you to check any/all out based on my thoughts and descriptions. Let’s support this type of creativity and boundary-pushing, reward the artists’ efforts, and ensure that more like them will be both viable and encouraged. Here’s to that happening in 2022 and beyond. Cheers my friends!  

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4: ‘M’ is for Moody

After the whirlwind tour of the Milky Way and beyond, we now return to the confines of largely normal Earth-side reality, with two titles grounded in more common occurrences, namely a breakup and the death of a family member. These next pair are also more ‘game-y,’ containing more developed mechanics married to their narrative frameworks.

First up is Maquette, a debut by Graceful Decay and published by (you guessed it) Annapurna. There wasn’t much information I could dig up about its development history or the dev in general other than, like a large percentage of this list, it’s a small startup endeavor. What I can tell you is that it released in March of 2021, and was also an early PlayStation Plus title on PS5 (a mystical device that supposedly exists.) Even then, like most others here, it was out with little fanfare and overall coverage.  

In terms of genre, Maquette rest firmly as a walking sim puzzler (and if you know me, you know I enjoy a good one of those.) Billed as an “Escher-esque recursive simulation” framed around the dissolution of a 20something couple’s relationship. In its tale of two lovers (and eventually exes) Kevin and Kenzie, Maquette strives to channel an Edith Finch vibe. It does at times tap into that vein of bittersweet melancholy, even if the dialogue can be a bit stiff and perhaps cringy in spots. The voice acting sells the emotion though, even when the actual lines fall flat. It’s not enough to distract all that much, but given this is a story based heavily in reliving past conversations between two people who are presented as representing the quintessential modern dating paradigm, I thought it at least worth mentioning.

So while the narrative overall is fine, it’s there and does its job without much complaint, the core concept is what drives Maquette. Based around an Alice in Wonderland-like mechanic, wherein there exists an exact diorama replica (the titular structure) of the world around you, and via stepping into it yourself as well as bringing in objects nearby, you either grow/shrink them to open/create pathways forward. It’s a very neatly pulled off design, and a satisfying visual trick. Each vignette is a set of well-thought out obstructions/solutions, and a captured moment in the history of Michael and Kenzie’s romance and breakup as it unfolded. It’s relatable if not particularly revelatory material. Life gets in the way, people drift apart, etc. But it is that mundane aspect that makes Maquette so easily accessible. Sometimes shit sucks, and it might be no one’s fault, so you’ve got to remember the good times, not dwell on the bad, and keep going as best you can.  

In the art design field Maquette employs this hazy, dreamily surreal watercolor style that I’ve come to be quite fond of, even if it might be in danger of becoming overused in titles like this. Here though, it does perfectly match Kevin’s recollections of himself, Kenzie, and what happened from their first meeting to falling in love and then falling out of it. Memories aren’t perfect replicas of events, and the look of the world smartly reflects this. It’s an impressionist painting of what was felt at a given time in the past, and how that might have changed when viewed from a later perspective. Which of course is itself reflected in the overall essence of the puzzles, and is what Maquette does best. 

Like most of its ilk, Maquette does fall on short side, but every level is completely self-sufficient. Each of the 7 sections moves the plot along at a solid pace, and provides new/interesting challenges in approaches to advance and see the whole picture. It’s not Portal tier, but it is more complex compared to other similar titles. The journey may be more interesting than the destination, especially in light of the story’s conclusion. But the time spent on the carefully constructed road to reaching it never overstays its welcome and presents some enjoyable puzzle models embedded in an everyday slice of life piece.

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From love and death of it, we move onto the inevitability of death itself in Mundaun. Also released in March (so I guess ‘M’ is for ‘March’ too) from developer Hidden Fields and published by MWM Interactive (who similar to Annapurna, are probably more well known for their film distribution.) Mundaun is a mystery/horror folklore tale rooted in Nordic/Swedish tradition. By default, it is entirely voiced in a native dialect, Romansh, which lends it credibility and an air of a great foreign production.

The story begins with middle class worker Curdin, who receives a letter from his childhood priest informing him that his beloved grandfather, Flurin, has passed. To honor his grandfather, Curdin returns to the village of Mundaun (which awesomely is an actual place in Switzerland) to attend the funeral as the only other family member able to do so. Immediately the game drops you into this idyllic community nestled in the snowy Alps via a winding bus ride in a fantastic opening scene. While the setup may be commonplace, it veers into a sort of supernatural/magical realism hybrid, setting the stage of a remote and possibly perturbing place, the very definition of a normal seeming town with more than its share of darkness beneath.   

After paying his respects, Curdin encounters a sinister individual while visiting the barn where Flurin supposedly died in a fire. This figure hints that there was much more to Flurin’s life (and demise) than previously suspected. Based on this disturbing encounter Curdin begins to investigate the increasingly strange circumstances of his grandfather’s death as well as discovering secrets dating back decades into the past. Other local figures, like the aforementioned priest as well as an obligatory spooky little girl accompanied by the goat she apparently communicates with, offer their own cryptic knowledge.

Drawing from vintage folk horror like The Wicker Man and Children of the Corn, Mundaun is excellent at establishing a false sense of safety before introducing its more uneasy elements. Initially, the town is threat-free, and while the sun is out you’re free to leisurely poke around. At night however it slowly populates with a growing number of unsettling foes to be fought or avoided. These are small in variety but extremely effective in their creepiness/danger factor. A title like this also needs the necessary eerie soundscape, and Mundaun delivers with its desolate windswept mountains and creaking, groaning interiors.  

Mundaun contains a number of mechanics in the FP survival horror tradition: health/inventory management, and a choice of stealth/combat to deal with enemies. Most of your wanderings entail mainly key/McGuffin hunting, rooting for that bit of direction that will provide further clues and point to the next general objective. There are optional upgrades to seek out as well (my favorite being gathering ingredients to brew coffee which increases max fear resistance, obviously.) All mostly standard stuff, and all well-implemented. Additional areas of the town and surrounding countryside, each seemingly more inaccessible and foreboding than that the last, open up as the in-game days/chapters go on. The methods to navigate these are distinctive, such as riding a ski slope or driving up a mountainous road in a beat up old tractor van. Worth mentioning too is the standout UI, as it’s one of the most natural and immersive done in such a title.  

I haven’t mentioned the art style yet, as I’ve been saving it because even amongst the other designs in this list, it stands out near the top. Meticulously rendered in hand penciled sketches, it creates the impression that everything is an off-putting lithograph come to life. Truly excellent to behold, it is the perfect complement/contrast to the picturesque elements imperceptibly transforming into bleaker versions of themselves, insidiously blanketing larger swathes of the town. It mirrors Curdin’s rising terror at the things he uncovers and the hidden, forgotten corners of Mundaun that his quest for the truth sends him to.   

Throughout its duration Mundaun expertly balances established elements with amazing visuals; like an illustrated Swedish Grimm fable that jumped off the page into a long lost Resident Evil game. It nails a few of my close interests and influences: FPS surv-horror in an impeccably uncanny atmosphere bolted onto a classic cursed/Faustian bargain story composed with a modern sensibility, all with eye-popping graphic design to sustain the whole way. There is some solid replay value as well, with multiple endings that change the flavor of Curdin’s fate in non-trivial ways. Mundaun is one of my favorite titles of 2021 in general. It was a hugely pleasant surprise, and I think deserves to be in the discussion of best indie horror games. For any fan of such, it is essential playing material. Just keep an eye out for mystical goats.

Part 5 (Finale)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3: Cosmic Catharsis

It’s time to space out in this section, as the following titles take us through the far reaches of the known (and unknown) cosmic horizons, exploring the nature of reality and oneself, often at once. A quick caveat: both the below are quite short, roughly 3-4 hours each, as well as containing very little in the way of mechanics. Indeed, main criticisms against them were for being less videogames and more ‘interactive movies.’ While that isn’t without validity, my argument and reasons for choosing them are exactly due to that aspect. These two toe the line between ‘game’ by strict definition and reach across to something akin to a digital art show to which interactivity has been integrated. Nevertheless, they fit right into the sphere and spirit of this series. So let’s blast off into the outer regions of far-flung nebulas.  

Our first trip through interstellar introspection is Genesis Noir, from developer Feral Cat Den, published by Fellow Traveler. Originally designed throughout 2016 and Kickstarted in 2018, it was picked up somewhat quietly by Microsoft in 2019 in their indie grab, and finally released on GamePass in the spring of 2021. Though it received minimal attention, it also gathered praise from those few who did check it out, and to which I will be adding my own approval.  

Genesis innocuously begins with a seemingly down to earth setup. A struggling watchmaker, appropriately named No Man, searches for the murderer of his former lover Miss Mass by a popular local saxophonist, Golden Boy. It’s a no nonsense classic noir set up. But very quickly it turns into something else, something much more. These characters also act as representations/personifications of fundamental forces i.e. energy, time/entropy and mass. Genesis is both a pulp drenched mystery and a crash course in the history of physics theories, from the creation through the possible ends of the universe as a whole. And it is skillful in the way it is able to combine them into a single thread, having one be an almost literal microcosm of the other.

No Man’s quest sends him backwards and forwards through the formation of the known universe on a mission to synthesize a black hole, which would prevent (by destruction) said murder (and universe from forming.) To do so, he ends up participating in events like seeing the first stars alight to the evolution of life on Earth. The whole ordeal is marked by a minimalist hand-drawn chalk-y sketchbook style (think Spy vs. Spy) with a wonderfully done nightclub jazz score by Skillbard. This mix is infectious, as the soulful tones follow the epic journey No Man embarks on for its duration. From witnessing the creation of protons, planets and plants to eventually seeing the rise of humankind, No Man is confronted with and contemplates the primal powers leading up to his current predicament before deciding what to do about it.      

It’s a bit difficult to describe and convey in either words or static images just how much of the magic of Genesis Noir is in its incredibly fluid animation and transition scenes. It has some of the most well directed use of visual perspective and orientation I had ever encountered. It comes across more akin to a grad school indie film that happens to be in game form, certainly more experimental than most titles covered here already. And while I do understand the complaint of “not really a game,” Genesis is so cleverly conveyed via the medium that the spectacle alone is worth the price to behold.     

In terms of actual gameplay it admittedly thin. What is there consists of a smattering of light point-and-click adventure segments. You’ll pretty much be manipulating objects in a scene, rotating viewpoints or matching notes to progress the unfolding of the noir story via way of the Big Bang. Some of these puzzles can be a little obscure and unintuitive even given their simplistic nature overall, but these are minor hurdles in an otherwise nonstop fascinating unfolding of animation and environmental storytelling interspersed with dreamy poem-like text interludes.

The whole shebang plays out like a dream in fact, with leaps in logic and the introduction of sudden side characters who help and hinder along the way. No Man tumbles through a tumultuous roller coaster tour of space-time that culminates in a show stopping finale of graphical/animated wizardry. Yet despite its focus on the sweeping grandiose of the cosmos, Genesis Noir is a short and sweet ride. It does however come close to capturing the awe and splendor of the vastness of space with its exceptionally unique animation and aesthetic. It is a playful but thoughtful celebration of ideas and philosophies regarding the nature of reality and how we relate to it in our everyday lives. Take my word, buy the ticket and take the incredible visual ride Genesis Noir has on offer. After enjoying the aesthetic treat, you just might find yourself reflecting on what it means to be part of this strange existence too.

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If Genesis Noir is the opening act here, then Artful Escape is the triumphant headliner. Envisioned and partly developed by a former musician who left the industry to focus on creating games, I mention this fact because it clearly shines through in Escape’s aural landscape. The music/soundtrack is integral to the experience, equal to and just as important a part of the story as the characters themselves. Escape is published by Annapurna Interactive, segueing me into another side rant: AP’s game publishing side is on the way to becoming something like the A24 of the scene. They’ve picked up many great underground/up-and-coming titles in recent years. Definitely keep an eye on anything they’re attached to, as chances are it’ll be interesting and/or cool as hell.

In Escape you step into the shoes of Francis Vendetti, a young aspiring musician living in the shadow of his more famous and long-deceased older relative, who is a clear Bob Dylan reference. Francis returns to his humble hometown of Calypso to ostensibly be the main attraction in the annual festival celebrating his idolized uncle. The problem for Francis is that he isn’t quite comfortable being put in this position, and would much rather concentrate on becoming his own man and artist instead of being inextricably linked and expected to be to something he knows deep down that he’s not.

Grappling with this burden on the eve of the concert, he’s awoken in the middle of the night by otherworldly visitors and promptly whisked away on a Bill & Ted-esque space rock opera. The connection is even more prevalent in the character of ‘Lightman.’ This dude is basically Rufus and George Clinton rolled into one. He serves as a mentor to Francis, elucidating him on the ins and outs of the galactic music circuit, helping Francis hone his own inner rock prowess one shredding solo at a time. 

While he tours the dark side of the moon and other colorfully fanciful alien worlds alongside Lightman, Francis continues to struggle with his self-doubt, identity, and the creative process. He works through coming to terms with his own ideas and image of what one can be versus external pressures and pre-existing expectations. Whilst doing so, he molds and reshapes himself bit by bit, shedding the stigma previously attached to him and veering from the road he was ‘supposed’ to take. Each time he entertains an increasingly growing extra-terrestrial crowd, rocking various interstellar venues harder and harder, Francis also makes gains in building up the confidence to truly come alive on and off stage. 

Mechanically Escape is a stripped down platformer with QTE rhythm ‘bosses’ at the end of each planet/section. Again it’s very loose, established and uncomplicated gameplay, but the simple act of ‘holding x to rock out,’ jumping and windmill strumming your way through each level is its own entertaining reward. Like I mentioned in the opening, the music is so strongly connected to Escape’s (and Francis’) identity that they become one and the same, and you as the player by extension come to feel like a guitar god with them, if only fleetingly.    

Escape does feature some pretty big names for this tier title in the voice work department. Lena Headley, Jason Schwartzman, and Carl Weathers(!) are among the most notable adding their talents to the cast. There are also lots of nice background details/gags/puns scattered throughout, while the design of many of the alien worlds pays tribute to psychedelic album covers/art. More than any other title in this series, Escape embraces the pure magic of music, effortlessly evoking the afterglow of a killer concert that sticks strongly in memory. When the final chord has reverbed away, Escape neatly wraps up Francis’ tale. He returns to Earth a new person, fully embracing who he has chosen to become and prepared to forge his destiny going forward. In this way Escape contains shades of Sable as well as something like Night in the Woods in its exploration of introspection and self-discovery. And similar to those, it caps off the encore by imparting a positive message about finding your own way and voice in the world, even if it means taking a risk and going off the path others have laid down for you without considering if it’s what’s best for you or is what you truly want. If Buddy Holly and David Bowie (Buddy Bowie perhaps) dropped in for a (game) jam session with Pink Floyd, the result would be Artful Escape. And that is a performance that should not be missed.

Part 4

Previously in Part 1

Part 2: Wandering the Wastelands  

These next two share a tenuous link in general setting, i.e. the titular ‘wasteland’ but that is only a very broad overarching connection. In tone and gameplay they are almost mirror opposites. Yet each approaches from an angle that capitalizes on their respective strengths to cement immersive experiences–one tending toward tense and the other a calming zen-tinged voyage.

Let’s start with the former in the form of Chernobylite. A PC release from earlier in the year and ported to consoles a few months later. It was Kickstarted a few years back in 2019 by The Farm 51, the devs of Get Even (which in my opinion was a fine try but rather unremarkable in the end.) As might be implied from the title, Chernobylite is very much unabashedly in the vein of Russian/Eastern European post-apocalyptic titles like STALKER and the Metro series, channeling the ever popular Radiation Zone vibe. Even so, it brings its own spin on that well-tread ground with an interesting story and originality in its supporting lore. It avoids some clichés but also leans into and embraces others respectably to provide a solid entry in the genre.

Your role here is one Prof. Igor Khymynyuk, former physicist, and now turned (for lack of better term) Stalker, venturing out in search of his missing wife and the mystery surrounding her disappearance combined with the strange happenings in the Zone. The framework is sturdy, a firm foundation fleshed out along the way via its two core mechanics and supported by good atmosphere/attention to detail. A fittingly haunting soundtrack adds a nice layer and goes a long way to maintaining Chernobylite’s sense of uneasy tension.

The main loop is split between active FPS sections separated by downtimes of hub base construction/upkeep and team management. Each in-game day starts with choosing a mission/task attached to a list of locales. These entail a moderate range of mid-size levels with slight variations on goals and opportunities depending on story progress. You can also send any companions on more minor off-screen missions, with various odds of success based on their equipment and abilities. Taking care to assign each of them to those with the best chance of succeeding, which will in turn provide further supplies and other bonuses.

There will generally be two or three possible leads to pursue specific to certain maps, meaning you’ll have to choose and optimize which ones to tackle and when. Once you drop into a level, you’ll alternate between resource scavenging and/or recruiting more NPCs and/or key info gathering. There are soldiers and mutants/monsters to fight or stealth around, accompanied by the obligatory Geiger meter mechanic. As you comb through and revisit locations, accumulating more breadcrumbs (and sometimes just bread) you’ll begin to unravel more of Igor’s life and backstory, with the long term goal of gearing up enough to have a decent chance at tackling the overhanging heist/rescue mission.

The base building portion is comparable and even handles similar to something like Fallout 4, but nowhere near as unwieldy nor finicky. Individual tolerance and patience for such systems varies, but I would argue it isn’t too annoying or time-consuming here, and contains just enough to keep you chasing the next upgrade and perhaps sparing a little on the side for extra lockpicks/ammo/health kits etc.

Both the action oriented FPS maps and the hub construction are soundly designed and fully functional, propped up by touches and tidbits along the way to make the characters and their situation sympathetic. For example, training with the NPCs you’ve managed to convince to join grants not only stat improvements but also adds some moments of interaction that play out quite well and establish deeper character connection and development. These parts serve as an effective connective tissue and a way to bolster investment. There are multiple endings and smaller permutations possible dependent on previous choices. All are nicely woven in too, especially as played out during the extended final encounter, making for a strong finish and a memorable conclusion.

I won’t deny there are bumps and rough edges in Chernobylite’s trek through the Zone, mainly in the technical area. But given its more modest roots and clear ambition, it has the potential to become a sleeper hit/cult classic/hidden gem. It’s easily better and noticeably improved over Farm 51’s prior releases. Chernobylite slips comfortably and confidently into the sub-genre/canon of ‘Zone’ games and is worth your time if that’s an area you’re into. I’m quite interested in what the studio does next, and hopefully it gets a boost in some key areas (like production quality) to increase exposure and garner a wider fan base.

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After surviving the radiated dangers of Chernobylite, let us shift to the soothing and stress-relieving landscape of Sable. Announced back at E3 2018 and shown off sporadically before finally releasing in Sept. 2021, it was a title that immediately grabbed my attention. A debut title by developer Shedworks (named so by the indie duo who worked on and made it literally in a shed. Right on!) inspired by, in their own words, “Star Wars and Breath of the Wild.”                  

What is probably most immediately noticeable about Sable is it strikingly slick comic style, highly influenced by Mobius. Utilizing a soothing subdued color palette that impressively and dynamically changes with the day/night cycle, it is some of the best looking and distinctive art design in recent memory. The entire world emits a welcoming and warm vibe, complimented by an equally serene soundtrack by Japanese Breakfast. It beckons the player to step into the splendor of the setting.

The story is basically a coming of age tale, framed through a futuristic but ruined planet littered with the remnants of wrecked spacecraft and gigantic rusting terraforming machines. Here you are the titular Sable herself, a young woman on the cusp of embarking on a ritualistic walkabout (or more accurately rideabout) of discovery and introspection. After bidding your tribal home farewell, you set out to meet and greet various inhabitants spread out far and wide before settling on a vocation, marked by collecting sets of masks representative of each respective possible career.

As per above, the visual storytelling is top notch here. So much of the world can be extensively explored, and searching through its windswept landscapes and crumbling monoliths will tease out narrative morsels that gradually add up to expand the lore. To its credit, nothing is ever rotely exposited, instead doled out in manageable and well-written snippets. At its best, Sable’s aesthetics combine with the player’s imagination, bridging them together to create a wondrous sense of discovering this place’s unique lost history/culture and possible future.

Sable plays essentially as a laid back exploration/puzzler, with no combat whatsoever. It does have what could be described as light quests, with a deft touch approach to hand-holding and sign posting the player. The world is populated by a reasonable number of NPCs, who largely dispense simple fetch/discovery quests, all serving to nudge you towards various locales throughout the expansive feeling (but in practice mid-size) world.

If I had to compare it to some others, Sable would be something like an intersection of Eastshade, Journey, and Haven (all excellent unto themselves.) The sheer sense of freedom of movement is definitely one of if not the biggest highlights alongside the artwork. Gliding across the beautiful ruins on your custom hover-bike under the shades of the rising moon while distant towering formations and imposingly shattered landmarks dot the horizon, knowing you can go explore them at your leisure, is a truly freeing and delightfully relaxing experience.

Thematically Sable pulls off a tale of positivity, something that many games could surely use more of in these uncertain times! It’s one of initial doubt overcome by eventual empowerment; of self-realization and acceptance after having gained both internal and external wisdom. It’s also a somewhat brief journey, clocking in at around 8 hours, with perhaps an extra one or two if you stop and smell every single desert rose. Like the transience of youth itself, it revels in its time before settling down with a satisfied sense of adventures had and rest earned. If you’re looking for something to unwind with, and gorgeous to look at, Sable will impeccably hit that spot.  

More: Part 3

Part 4

As we put 2021 in the rearview, I wanted to pivot a bit from the traditional ‘Best Of’ list and instead shine a spotlight on some titles that I feel are further beneath the usual radar. I’m going to be looking at ten of the most interesting/experimental-leaning titles that probably slipped through the cracks, two at time in a five part series.

My thought is to go through them roughly in order from likely familiarity/relatively known, gradually moving through the more obscure and ‘out there’ ventures, and culminating on the two that I think most exemplify the category of game/style/mindset I wish to focus on in this series, delving into them with the deepest analysis. These are, I propose, the most creatively engaging works being made in the industry right now, and the goal is to attempt to outline why I feel that’s the case, and share and spread the word about them.

By nature, they are all from fairly new/smaller/unknown studios. I’ll provide a brief overview and some details about the developers as well before jumping into my analysis and breakdown. So with all that out of the way, let’s get to it:    

Part 1: Freshly Familiar

Don’t let the subtitle mislead, these first two here are great games. It’s just as I said in the intro, they’re probably the highest visibility entries and thus can serve as a good starting point. So let’s start with almost certainly the most well-known title in the mix by now—The Forgotten City.

This one started life in 2015 as a Skyrim mod meticulously handcrafted by a dedicated solo developer. It rapidly built up reputation within the community, garnering much praise and attention. This culminated in being recognized with wins in both the Australian Writer’s Guild and Game Developer Awards. With renewed interest and a (slightly) bigger team/budget, Forgotten City was heavily reworked and revamped over the course of the next 4 years into a fully polished standalone. The final version dropped back in Sept 2021, exposing a new and larger audience to its fine-tuned experience.

In the new and improved incarnation, City takes its core premise—a story and character centric time travel mystery—and sets it in a picturesque Roman-styled city. You as the PC are then thrust into this place, where it is made apparent that the seemingly serene hamlet is haunted by an ominous ‘golden rule.’ That rule, if broken, will kill all its citizens, and you by extension. To prevent this, you must uncover the root of the strange edict and unravel how and why it’s happening, luckily quickly enough gaining the ability to reset the loop if/when events go awry. Armed with this power, you can now repeat the day, filling in the general rules of the loop by meeting NPC inhabitants and learning their personal history/routines/motivations, gradually acquiring knowledge to follow/solve leads and opening further threads.

These are the main activities the gameplay consists of. A majority of your time will be spent going through dialogue trees and exploration/puzzle solving. This is occasionally broken up by brief sections of combat scattered in. A valid enough criticism may be that combat could’ve been utilized a bit more/expanded, but it still very much works as is with a firm grounding. Besides, that aspect was never truly the main focus, as the actual star is the narrative itself and its robust components. It’s all kept engaging as you uncover more clues and retain info/items across iterations, thus making it more manageable and usually adding a new piece or two of the puzzle each time. There are multiple solutions and endings, each varying in degrees of narrative resolution, but all coherent and complete. While I will admit (trying to avoid spoilers) the ‘true reveal’ wasn’t as shockingly clever as it may have wanted to be, your mileage may vary on its use, but again it nevertheless made sense relative to what preceded it.

The true greatness of City is its attention to care and detail in the world and storylines, and how it melds . There are moments when you’ll discover a new interaction or useful item hidden away, which opens up possibilities while filing in more knowledge that can be exploited later down the line. Also in the course of its presentation, you’ll notice copious intelligent nods to ancient history/culture/philosophy from which it takes inspiration. NPCs are written extremely well, even though notably the models do show their stiff Skyrim DNA animation-wise. But this is greatly made up for by excellent voice acting and personalities, which goes a long way to selling the characters and the believability of their situations.

Throughout it’s roughly 15 hours Forgotten City showcases a creatively woven combination of elements. And it pulls these off with a satisfying flourish, bringing its own take and commentary on established templates. The whole endeavor deserves much credit, setting the general tone for titles to come, and is why I chose it as the leadoff entry.  

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The second title I’ve picked here is Death’s Door, the sophomore release from Titan Souls developer Acid Nerve, published by Devolver. Released in June 2021, it unabashedly shows its source influences (i.e. Zelda et al.) but with an updated and wonderful presentation. Nostalgic-tinged retro may still be all the rage, but there is an important distinction between merely repeating the past as a prop, and using it as a springboard to interject more modern ideas.

Death’s Door manages to do just that with an almost perfect balance. And again the reviews and response reflect how well it does so. Combat is fluid and tightly satisfying, the story compelling, and the art/level design absolutely stellar. It starts from familiar ingredients but refines them to various degrees. Door understands precisely what its predecessors were, and exactly why they worked. It then takes those time-tested structures and wraps them around its own strong sense of world-building and earned confidence in gameplay.

Your role in Door is a bipedal weapon-wielding soul-collecting crow who works at the “Dept. of Death” in a fantasy afterlife of Kafkaesque nature, complete with its obscure rules and regulations, clearly analogous to real bureaucratic institutions. Even grim reapers have to punch in, and shit goes wrong on the pipeline sometimes. Which is why, after such a mishap, your nameless crow must set off to navigate a series of locales/dungeons in search of a stolen soul and the reasons behind its theft. It’s a pure darkly-leaning fairy tale setup, but one of distinction in a rather muddled mess of games doing the same. It is pleasingly charming in its exploration of somber subject matter juxtaposed with some absurd humor. Both are handled well, and themes of loss, grief, the afterlife, and finally hope/acceptance in the face of all those are touched upon throughout the journey.

The vision and feel of the world is where Door truly shines, entwined with the aforementioned design, to impart a lovingly crafted series of environments. (Side Rant: I think perhaps at this point a term can be coined for the use of diorama-like perspective Unity art, as has been done in a number of titles both in and out of this specific genre. Like a famous quote goes, “you’ll recognize it when you see it.”) It also throws in familiar-feeling but equally thoughtful puzzles, sprinkling in upgrades and other secrets throughout for the thorough-minded explorer.

All this while constantly battling an increasing bestiary of inventive monsters with some quite tense encounters, especially when it comes to the main bosses, where the Titan Souls influence/evolution shows most strongly. There are a handful of weapons and abilities to work with, each unique and different enough functionally so that none feel redundant or unnecessary, in addition to the above mentioned extra and hidden upgrades.

Death’s Door is immediately accessible, but not a simple breeze either. Similar to many of its other aspects, it contains what approaches to be the perfect challenge curve. There’s of course a secret ending/epilogue requiring more adventuring/exploring post-credits (or if one is extremely meticulous it is possible to achieve in the first playthrough.) But the main storyline is entirely satisfying unto itself, and the process from start to finish never gets dull or repetitive. There is always something very cool to see, fight, or find every step of the way. It’s modern Zelda-like done damn right by those who know precisely how to do it, and gets a heartily enthusiastic crow caw for that.    

Thanks for reading and check out the next parts:

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5