Throughout the course of the new PS4 exclusive, Until Dawn, Peter Stormare, playing the part of a character referred to as The Analyst, will speak directly to you, the gamer. He periodically breaks the fourth wall to interact with you, asking you questions about what you fear, which characters in the game you’re fond of and which you don’t really care for. It’s an interesting idea, and the game adapts a little based on your answers to make your experience a little more personal. And so in the interest of keeping things meta, I’m now going to address you, the reader, directly, and ask you some questions. I can’t promise the review will change as per your answers, but I’m fairly confident I know what the answers will be so it won’t need to. Are you sitting comfortably? Good. Let’s begin. Have you ever heard anybody use the phrase “getting presidential” as a euphemism for having sex? Have any of your friends ever offered you advice on how to take a girl to the “bone zone”? Have you ever referred to your own penis, or have you ever heard anybody else refer to theirs, as “Air Force One”? If not (and let’s be honest, it’s likely not) then prepare to be incredulous at how the cast of Until Dawn speak to each other.
Yes, the dialogue in Until Dawn is, at times, jaw-droppingly awful. Earlier in the year many of us laughed our way through the first episode of Life Is Strange as the cast hella spoke to each other not like real people, but like what an alien might imagine teenagers talked like if all they had to go on for reference was a ’90s Limp Bizkit music video and access to the Hot Topic website. The dialogue in Until Dawn in the opening few hours is like the bastard offspring of the worst moments of Life Is Strange and the script of one of the crap straight-to-video American Pie sequels that we all tried really hard to forget about. It’s all horny teen banter as written by people who can’t remember being teens. Or indeed how to speak. It’s actually borderline offensively bad at times, to the point where I laughed out loud playing the game. And I’m talking full on belly laughs, too. I positively howled on more than one occasion, cringed more times than I could care to guess, and remained in a constant state of bewilderment for most of the opening hour or two of the story. This game is something else.
But the secret weapon that Until Dawn wields is that it’s not aiming for high art and has crash-landed face first in the gutter. Supermassive Games have aimed to pay homage to the teen slasher movies of the ’90s, and boy, have they ever nailed it. While appalling dialogue, paper thin characters, and a nonsensical, trope-laden plot might be a deal-breaker for a game like Heavy Rain, for Until Dawn they’re almost a necessity. The implausibly hot and frequently annoying cast of teens are all together. We’re introduced to them. We hate them. And then something awful happens and they have to band together, finding courage inside that they didn’t even know they had, as they try to make it through the evening alive. It adheres to the classic formula of dozens of movies from that era, and if you’re like me, and you remember renting movies like I Know What You Did Last Summer from Blockbuster with a group of friends, Until Dawn will likely make you feel nostalgic. Like the movies it pays homage to, Until Dawn is all about dumb characters doing dumb things in a dumb story, while you sit in the comfort of your own home, shouting, “Don’t go upstairs!” at the cretin who hasn’t thought their escape routes through. This is every stupid teen horror movie you ever watched, rolled into one, only in this horror story, when you shout, the kids can hear you.
Set in a cabin in the woods in winter, Until Dawn tells the tale of eight friends having a weekend break. Like any good set of friends, one year prior they decided to trick one of their group, Hannah, into believing that the guy she was in love with was interested in her, and filmed her taking her shirt off with him as she thought they were heading, well, to the bone zone. For whatever reason, Hannah wasn’t all too happy about this and ran away, out into the night. Her twin sister, Beth, chased after her, and neither of them were ever seen again. The rest of the group decide to meet up again one year later at the exact same cabin, with some even mentioning that they feel a little guilty about what happened to Hannah and Beth, as though, you know, it was their fault or something. They naturally decide to meet up at the cabin at different times (why didn’t they all take a bus together?) and in the pitch black of night during a snowstorm. After a few meet and greets, a little bit of drama thanks to who’s dating who, and a whole lot of cringe inducing sexual innuendo, we’re ready to get the party started.
There’s Samantha, the only one of the group to protest last year’s deadly prank. There’s Mike, the guy who thinks “Air Force One” is an acceptable name for his penis. There’s Jess, Mike’s girlfriend, who apparently also thinks that “Air Force One” is an acceptable name for Mike’s penis. There’s Emily, who used to date Mike, but now she’s getting presidential with Matt, another one of the group. There’s Chris, who wants to take Ashley to the bone zone, and there’s Ashley, who wants Chris to take her there, but neither have managed to pluck up the courage to do anything about it. And then there’s Josh, the brother of Hannah and Beth, who is only missing the big, floating neon sign above his head that reads, “This guy is probably the baddie”. There’s a heated debate between Emily and Jess over who gets to take a ride on Air Force One, and for the good of the group, everyone splits up to various parts of the cabin to take a little time apart. Things are getting tense, so let’s hope nobody does anything stupid.
So anyway, someone does something stupid. Josh decides that the snowy, dark, secluded cabin in the woods where his sisters presumably died a year prior is the perfect place to break out the old Ouija Board. Not Monopoly, not Scrabble, not even strip poker. The Ouija Board. Predictably, this is a bad idea. Hannah and Beth start talking to Josh, Chris and Ashley from beyond the grave, giving the three clues on where to look for the proof of who and what killed them. Everybody freaks out a little bit. Meanwhile, Emily and Matt have gone out into the blizzard to look for Emily’s bag which like, totally, you know, cost like, six hundred dollars or something. Poor, poor Matt. Mike and Jess have gone off to a separate cabin to have sex, which we know, because they inform us seventeen times on the short walk to their love nest. And Sam has gone for a bath on her own, presumably because she’s the only sensible one in the group, and she needs some time alone to consider how she ended up in a log cabin with this bunch of absolute clown shoes. It’s dark, it’s isolated, and the teenagers have split up. And so the classic horror template is laid out.
The plot of the game essentially boils down to a mash up of a number of different horror movies. There’s some I Know What You Did Last Summer, a couple of nods to Scream, some Cabin Fever, and even a little Saw thrown in there, before there’s a sharp turn in the narrative, and the second half of the story lifts elements directly from another horror movie that I won’t reveal here. The first half of the game, for my money, is certainly more enjoyable than the second, but even after the third or fourth eyebrow-raising plot development, the game never felt like it had derailed thanks to the schlocky nature of what Supermassive Games have done here. Until Dawn is a game that wears its influences on its sleeves, and makes no bones about what it is, and what it’s trying to do, and that’s one of the reasons that it holds together so well. You know exactly what you’re in for with this game after the first hour, and so when something patently ridiculous happens, you just have to run with it.
A normal chapter of Until Dawn will throw you into control of one of the eight kids, and you’ll get a small section of story to take part in before control will switch to one of the other eight kids, doing something else concurrently. Playing the game is as simple as walking around and interacting with objects. There’s clues to find, and some very light puzzles to solve, but the majority of your playing time is spent talking to people, making decisions and taking part in QTEs. Conversations are interesting in that you can help shape the personality of each character as you see fit by making slight dialogue choices that alter how characters act. You can opt to be aggressive if someone gets in your face, or you can attempt to pacify the situation. These choices often have implications later in the game, rather than an immediate repercussion. Similarly, the choices in the game usually amount to which direction to go, or other simple decisions, that don’t immediately scream out to you as having potentially deadly consequences, but can often lead to serious trouble. That’s where the butterfly effect comes in.
The butterfly effect is a choice system that determines, essentially, who is going to get out of this game alive. It’s implemented in such a way that you can’t really see the strings controlling the proverbial puppet show, and one of the great successes of the game is that it unfolds in a way in which you’re never really sure which choices will end up with someone getting iced. That, along with QTEs that can result in the permanent death of characters rather than just a game over screen, means that Until Dawn never stops making you feel tense. A butterfly symbol popping up on screen lets you know that what you’ve just done will have some consequences, but you don’t know what those will be. And so it could be something as simple as you picking up and looking at an object, meaning that object isn’t in the same place it was, which might make it out of reach should you need it in a pinch, or it could be something as significant as falling off a cliff seconds after your ill-fated decision was made.
What’s really interesting about the system, though, is how organically everything comes together when you can’t see what’s happening behind the scenes. A second play-through of the game will reveal how some of the events of the game come together, and which decisions really matter, but in the heat of the moment, it’s hard to tell that this is a choice based game at all. It feels like a story that has been made this way, even though you’re shaping it, and that’s about the best compliment you can give to a game like this. The story, while being utterly unbelievable at times, always remains engaging thanks to the interactive elements and the fact that you know that any choice you make could spell death for one of the characters. And while the characters in the game start out as people you probably want to see get chopped up by a deranged killer, as the game goes on, their various quirks can become endearing, which means perma-death can be a bit of a gut punch. Mike might start the game as a bit of a jerk, but come the end he’s basically transformed into Nathan Drake. Watching your favourite character die a terrible death that’s of your own making (I’m sorry, Ashley) is surprisingly affecting.
The characters becoming more engaging as the game goes on is down, in part, to this being a nine-hour horror movie rather than a ninety minute one, but also thanks to the excellent voice acting. The production values in the game are top-notch throughout, with fantastic sound design – you’re in for a treat if you’ve got surround sound, by the way – and high quality graphics, but the voice acting in particular is really worth note. While I spent the opening hour or so laughing at the way the characters speak to one another, once the set-up is out of the way and things start getting nasty, it’s hard not to feel for the poor kids. Some of the characters fare better than others thanks to how much they get to do in the narrative, but on the whole, the dialogue is never delivered in a way that feels stilted or forced, and conversation feels natural. Characters like Sam and Mike are particularly well done, and come across as good, or often better, than what you’d traditionally see in this genre. Peter Stormare, though, has the most fun playing a flamboyant psychiatrist. It’s like watching Mads Mikkelsen playing Hannibal in an episode of Goosebumps, and it’s a lot of fun.
Whether you like Until Dawn or not will most likely be down to a couple of things. What are you expecting? And do you like teen horror movies? If you’re expecting high art, or psychological horror, you’re out of luck. It’s not a new Silent Hill. This is a big, silly ’90s teen slasher movie that you can take part in. It wears its influences on its sleeves, and it’s never pretentious about what it is. I instantly found myself in love with the camp dialogue, the cheesy story, and the constant peril our plucky teens found themselves in, and since that’s what Supermassive Games were aiming for, you can’t really knock them for it. Until Dawn is a game that has cult hit written all over it, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all to see Sony turn this into a franchise. So grab a couple of beers, load up on snacks, and ask yourself, “Are you ready to take a ride on Air Force One?”
This article was originally posted on www.soundonsight.org
‘Life is Strange 2’ Episode 5 Review – “Wolves”: A Worthy Send-off
The final episode of Life is Strange 2 may take a while to get going but it does offer a solid conclusion to the Diaz brothers’ journey.
Life is Strange 2 hasn’t made any bones about being a political game over the course of the last year. The 5th, and final episode, “Wolves”, doesn’t just continue with this message, it doubles down, and in a big way.
Set near the Arizona-Mexico border, “Wolves” follows the Diaz brothers on the final leg of their journey. Having escaped from the cult that held Daniel up as a messianic figure in the previous episode, Sean and Daniel are camping out in a sort of pop-up town filled with outsiders like themselves.
The location provides Life is Strange 2 with its final breath of relaxation before the story enters its high tension endgame, and it’s a much needed reprieve. Unfortunately, it does seem to go on a bit longer than the player might like, and that makes things drag a smidge.
To give you some idea of how long you’ll be spending in the village, 4 of the 6 collectibles are found here. So, yes, this starting area is the main place you’ll be spending “Wolves” in. To be clear, the area isn’t bad per se. There’s a lot to see, a scavenger hunt to go on, and a few interesting characters to speak with, including a surprise cameo from the original game. The bummer of it all is that players will be feeling the time here more laboriously simply because there isn’t much of anything happening.
In the 2nd or 3rd episode of this story it’s perfectly fine for an extended bit of down time. Episode 3, in particular, benefited greatly from allowing you to settle into the setting and get to know a diverse and likable new group of characters. However, by the 5th episode, players will be so eager to see how things are gonna settle up, they won’t be able to get out of this area fast enough.
On the upswing, once Sean and Daniel leave the village, the story moves at a pretty solid clip to the credits. As the key art and trailer for “Wolves” might suggest, the Diaz brothers do indeed challenge the border wall in the final leg of Life is Strange 2. Where things go from there, I won’t spoil, but rest assured that Daniel will absolutely go through the crisis as you’ve trained him to do.
By this I mean, you will see the final results of your choices throughout the game, and they’re pretty impressive. With 4 possible endings, and 3 possible variations on those endings, Life is Strange 2 can ultimately play out in a variety of ways. How yours plays out will, of course, depend on the choices you’ve made and how you’ve influenced your brother throughout your journey.
Either way, though, Life is Strange 2 closes off “Wolves” with an emotionally satisfying and generally fulfilling conclusion to your journey. It might be a necessary evil that the events can’t be intense the whole way through, being that this is not an action or combat-focused game, but the fact that things take so long to get going in the final episode is a bit of a problem.
Still, fans worried that Life is Strange 2 might fail to stick the landing can rest easy. “Wolves” might not be the best, or most satisfying, episode of the series but it does what it needs to do and it does it well, particularly in the back half.
‘Yaga’ Review: A Bittersweet Fairy Tale
Some games feel perfectly suited to their genres, as if they fulfill every ambition that their genre could promise. On paper, Yaga from the developer Breadcrumbs Interactive, should be one of those games. This roguelike RPG is meant to bring traditional Slavic folktales to life, and its procedurally generated structure allows the game to change in every playthrough, just like how the ancient fairy tales it’s based on can change in every telling. Yaga immediately shines on a conceptual level, but as a game, the most important question remains: will this fairy tale be enjoyable to play?
From start to finish, Yaga uses the rich source material of Eastern European history and folklore to create a vibrant, fantastical world. The entire game is framed as three elderly women telling the story of Ivan, a heroic blacksmith who has been stricken with the curse of bad luck. These women spin a fanciful yarn, one in which Ivan is constantly plagued by horrors from traditional fairy tales such as the hideous One-Eyed Likho, along with more realistic foes, such as a corrupt, overbearing Tsar. The game thrives on this balance between history and fantasy. Its world is filled with peasants who face daily, universal struggles with war and agriculture, while massive ogres and goblin-like Vodyanoys haunt the surrounding wilderness. This mixture creates a strong setting that finally gives Slavic history and mythology its long-overdue representation in games.
“Take the presentation and story together, and Yaga becomes a playable portrait of the lives and superstitions of Eastern European peasants.”
The frame story always remains the same: Ivan will always have to serve his Tsar while avoiding bad luck in every playthrough. However, beyond these core details, the old women are extremely flexible storytellers, often switching events around or changing story beats entirely. In some playthroughs, you may discover a woman raising an enormous chicken; in others, you may instead encounter a band of thieves waiting to rob you. You will frequently face important decisions to make that will dramatically impact the outcome of your quest. yes, you can always break into monster hideouts with hammers blazing to slay every creature before you; but more often than not, you are also given the opportunity to peacefully talk your way out of these toxic situations. Even more dramatically, oftentimes the game will zoom out to the old women storytellers and allow you to choose how they tell the rest of Ivan’s story. Yaga is at its best when it doubles down on this player freedom. It makes every moment engaging and allows its stories to truly come alive.
Yaga’s writing and presentation only serve to make this world even more striking. It features a distinctly dark sense of humor – for instance, a man may ask you to push a boulder into a well behind his house, but he will neglect to tell you that he has also thrown his wife into the bottom of that well ahead of time. Much of this dialogue is even written in rhyme, enhancing the otherworldly, fairy tale atmosphere. On top of that, nearly all dialogue is fully voice acted, with most voice actors delivering some eccentrically charming performances that make the game feel as if it’s a playable Disney film. The visuals look like they’re taken straight out of a Russian children’s book of fairy tales, while the music incorporates traditional instruments and language into an electronic, hip-hop fusion soundtrack that captures the cultural heritage that Yaga focuses on while connecting it to modern culture. Take the presentation and story together, and Yaga becomes a playable portrait of the lives and superstitions of Eastern European peasants.
However, this leads to the gameplay. Quests may be randomized each time you play, but nearly every one of them takes the same general format. One character will request help, and then Ivan will have to venture out into the world to fight some demons or recover an item. Worse yet, the levels are just as randomized in their procedurally generated design, and not in a particularly clever way, either: most of them likewise follow the same formula, being little more than arenas full of enemies connected by copy-and-paste environments. Many paths in each environment lead to nothing more than pointless dead ends. The combat has a satisfyingly simple basis, with basic moves like long- and close-range attacks, roll dodging, items to use, and a variety of different weapons to equip, although his trusty old hammer is generally the best choice. However, while this simplicity makes the combat enjoyable on its own, there is very little depth to it, and the inherently repetitive design of the mission only serves to highlight how paper-thin combat can be. Most battles involve little more than hacking away at enemies until they die, which becomes increasingly repetitive by the end of the roughly ten-hour campaign.
At the very least, the robust customization system helps add a little intrigue to the combat. As a blacksmith, Ivan is naturally gifted with the ability to craft weapons for himself to use. By scavenging parts and items from fallen enemies and treasure chests around the world, Ivan is able to create the most powerful weapons. Crafting is simple to use yet extremely ripe for experimentation, requiring only one base item and a handful of accessories to create unique new items. With dozens of components to discover and use in your forging, there are plentiful opportunities to create the best possible weapons.
“All told, Yaga achieves a bittersweet ending: it’s bitter as a game but sweet as a fairy tale.”
The crafting system would be the standout aspect of the moment-to-moment gameplay if it weren’t foiled by another one of the game’s systems: Bad Luck. Ivan has been cursed with perpetual Bad Luck, which grows constantly throughout the game – whenever something good happens, Bad Luck is sure to increase. Whenever the Bad Luck meter fills all the way, Likho will appear and strike Ivan, generally breaking one of his weapons or stealing his money.
On paper, this mechanic makes sense, since it prohibits the player from becoming too overpowered and also fits into the folklore style off the story. In practice, however, it is an infuriating limitation on player progression and invention. It effectively punishes players for putting thought and care into their weapon crafting and character-building – at any moment it can all be washed away in bad luck, so what’s the point? Considering how enjoyable the crafting and combat systems are, it’s a shame that Bad Luck seems to exist solely to diminish the very best parts of the gameplay, leaving the game feeling like it cripples itself.
Your enjoyment of Yaga depends heavily on what experience you want out of it. If you’re looking for a deep and satisfying RPG, then it likely won’t deliver. Although it features satisfying combat and customization systems, the frustrating randomization of its level design and Bad Luck system only serve to foil these good qualities. If you are instead looking for a faithful, fleshed-out image of Slavic cultural heritage, portraying both the harsh realities of peasant life along with its fanciful folklore, then Yaga is a clear triumph thanks to its emphasis on player choice, its excellent writing, and its beautiful hand-drawn visuals and inventive soundtrack. All told, Yaga achieves a bittersweet ending: it’s bitter as a game but sweet as a fairy tale.
‘Remothered: Tormented Fathers’ Review: I Want My Remummy
There’s merit to be had if you just want a quick bash at a quirky, indie horror game, but with so many flaws, I can’t recommend Remothered.
It feels like a while since the ‘survival horror but you can’t fight back’ genre was at its peak, especially with the recent, tradition-tinged revival of the Resident Evil series, but back in 2017 when Remothered: Tormented Fathers was being developed for PC it was all the rage. Like any indie game that’s had even the slightest amount of interest or acclaim during the current generation, Remothered has received the now-obligatory Switch port. Although its modest technical requirements clearly made a successful transition to the platform more than manageable, they don’t help to hide the game’s very obvious shortcomings.
Players take control of Rosemary Reed in her attempts to investigate retired notary Dr. Richard Felton, who is currently undergoing treatment for a mysterious disease. Oh, and he has a missing daughter that he probably murdered. The plot of the game feels a little cliché, but it’s undoubtedly its strongest facet. However, suspending your disbelief at the ropy animations and dodgy voice-acting is needed to avoid being sucked into feeling like you’re watching Theresa May running around a big mansion trying to escape from a John Cleese impersonator with his arse hanging out. Alas, I clearly failed in this endeavor.
Remothered is essentially a game of ‘go there, fetch that, bring it here, use it’ with an added element of ‘don’t let the annoying old man kill you in the face with a sickle’. Yeah, one of those ones. The story takes place almost entirely within Felton’s huge mansion, and navigating the ol’ girl is by far the game’s toughest element. It’s made especially harder while you’re constantly on edge, trying to avoid the stalking lunatic without a map, weapons, or a proper objectives system. Be prepared for your bearings to be quite considerably lost.
There are a couple of ways to avoid that face full of sickle. There’s a dodge button (provided Rosemary isn’t too tired to actually dodge), a run button, distraction items, and defense items that will automatically be used to escape a grab attack if you have one equipped at the time. Remember those crappy bits in Resident Evil 4 where you had to play as Ashley? This is like that… for a whole game.
While a little tired in 2019, there’s nothing inherently wrong with the formula of the weapon-less survival horror game – it’s just that in Remothered, it’s not implemented all that well. Enemy AI routing is weird, which should be grounds for an unpredictable fright-fest, but leans more toward the annoying and/or hilarious. It seemed like the stalkers would either sit directly outside the room I needed to enter – barely moving and refusing to be distracted for longer than a few seconds before returning immediately to their original spot right on my current objective – or simply bugger off to another floor and never come back.
Even with his penchant to completely vacate the area, and despite his advancing years, Dr. Felton possesses supersonic hearing. It seemingly doesn’t matter how far away you are – if you run in this game, he will hear you. To make matters worse, the sound design just doesn’t make sense. With every press of the run button, enemy dialogue would instantly change to indicate they’d heard you and then loud footsteps would permeate every room you enter as if they were right behind you, when they most certainly are not.
It’s either a cheap scare tactic to give the impression of enemies constantly being within touching distance, or the fallout from a combination of naff sound design and the limitations of my Switch’s Pro Controller not having a headphone port. What makes it worse is that everything is so campy that it’s seldom scary in any tangible way. When the man trying to murder you is constantly shouting about how he hasn’t got anything to eat that isn’t moldy while you hide in his cupboard, it’s not exactly bone-chilling.
As a result of the big-eared murderers and their impeccable radar tuned to the sounds of running, I spent almost the entirety of the game… well, not running. Unfortunately, Rosemary walks slower than an asthmatic ant with heavy shopping, and this made exploring the mansion a monotonous chore – especially when getting caught and subsequently having to run up and down floors to hide before slowly sneaking back to restart the investigation.
Puzzles are that old school type of obtuse where you’re tasked with finding everyday items to fix problems. The puzzle itself lies in realizing the item the developer decided should work, finding it in the giant four-floor mansion, and slowly returning to the its intended area of use without dying. For example, in order to get into an attic, you have to search rooms at random to find an umbrella to pull down the door’s previously-out-of-reach cord. It’s such a shame that Remothered eschews any type of self-contained puzzle for a string of confusing fetch quests, as everything feels more tedious than taxing.
It feels a little unfair to bemoan the lack of polish for a two-year-old indie game, but Remothered is full of niggling issues. Animations are janky, lip-syncing is non-existent, and the camera wigs out after the QTEs to fight off enemies have finished – always pointing you in the wrong direction. I also encountered a couple of game-breaking bugs where Rosemary did her door-opening animation without the door actually opening, and I couldn’t enter the room without rebooting the game. Lastly, and I don’t want to be too harsh to an Italian developer, but the in-game English is pretty abysmal, and lots of the game’s expositional notes and articles border on illegible through their poor translations.
There are some people out there who can’t get enough of the whole hiding under sofas schtick, but I like my survival horror games with better psychological tension, a (limited) means to fight back, and coherent puzzle-solving. There’s merit to be had in the game’s labyrinthine setting and short length if you just want a quick bash at a quirky, campy indie horror game in the Haunting Grounds model, but with so many flaws and such a frustrating gameplay loop, I can’t recommend Remothered: Tormented Fathers outside of anything other than morbid curiosity.
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