There’s a deep seeded vulnerability to every significant character in The House of Fata Morgana, a vulnerability that is festering behind a thin shield of various defense mechanisms and a facade of the person they purport to be among others. “You instinctively accept as truth the events unfolding before you”, the title crawl declares. This could be taken at face value of course, one must accept the magical element of the story for it to hold any weight, but I also took it as a challenge of premise. The game entreats the reader to investigate the real people trapping themselves behind this fata morgana (a term for a type of mirage I embarrassingly only learned about after completing the game so if you also didn’t know, well, there you go) and observe them for the holistic human beings they are, beyond what they want or are compelled to portray themselves to be. Beyond this, I can say that narratively the game succeeds at interrogating themes of victimhood, cyclical abuse, vengeance, hatred, and personal identity with strokes of deftness and occasionally nuance as needed and that is the greatest praise I could shoulder upon it. Light spoilers for The House in Fata Morgana follow so if you're interested in reading this VN completely blind, be warned.

Now I just said that Fata Morgana’s thematic strength in relation to its fully realized characters is its greatest strength but I can’t help but contradict myself just to express how enthusiastically I have to celebrate its character art, background art, and music. These components alone are what I imagine most immediately captures every person who even mildly likes this VN so I cannot stress enough how much I would understand the argument that these are its greatest accomplishments. Every piece of background art, at least for the PC version, expresses these rough impressionistic outlines of indoor and outdoor environments that can be equally as crude and grimy and stark in visual texture and color as they can be soft and dream-like and enigmatic. There's an appreciable contrast between these dappled, almost amorphous background shapes and the beautifully detailed, porcelain-like character art realized by Moyataro. In the landscape of visual novels the character art is immediately distinct, sure, but even more than that it often allows for the oft-unsettling atmosphere to permeate through characters such as The Maid, The White Haired Girl, the Beast, and the Witch whose entire physical existences reek of uncanniness or horror or both. The CGs must bear mention here as well because the painterly quality of the facially expressive character art as well as their posing and framing within stark backgrounds is unforgettable.

Now, perhaps the most pivotal element in contributing to Fata Morgana’s atmosphere, which is equal parts dour, chaotic, dreadful, ethereal and occasionally euphoric, is the music. It's also the aspect of the game I was immediately enamored by the moment the eponymous title track coincided with the opening title crawl. The most apparent strength of the soundtrack of this VN is its willingness to let the reader steep in despairing moods accompanied with discordant tracks that can at times grate against the ear or overwhelm with a sense of discomfort and eeriness. Not every song is appreciable outside of its game context but given the eclectic variety and the distinct place that every song has in the soundtrack, I wouldn’t have it any other way. There is an abundance of vocal tracks, most of which are sung in Portuguese by Japanese singers, with different affects and vocal effects placed on them. This is certainly an oddity within the space of VNs as I understand it, but it's one I welcome given the sheer ability of the singer(s) in every song. Speaking of song placement, I cannot neglect to mention that in the case of the first half of the game wherein the reader explores four different doors in varying locations and time periods, the soundtrack is curated in a way that each door to each setting also opens a portal to a distinct sonic palate that makes each one have a greater sense of identity both within the world and in my memory. Altogether, the entire soundtrack is worthwhile and one of my new favorites in a game; I revisit at least a portion of it nearly every day.

There’s an anthological vignette structure to the first half of the narrative that is ostensibly only loosely tied by the mystery of the player character’s identity. It’s within this framework that I think Fata Morgana is most consistently impressive in its effective creation of small period pieces reflecting on sort of tangential themes like class disparity, avarice, relationships and their need for communication, the nature of man, race and gender identity. Many of these themes, while carrying over between vignettes, don’t exactly get fully realized explorations unfortunately (such as class disparity and race), but they do serve to unflatteringly portray the blemishes of the people and period in a manner that is coherent and establishes societal systems as being quite influential in the production of discriminatory and heinous acts that take place later in the story. The second door that explores the reality of a nebulous and foreboding beast that the Maid is catering to in 1707 was an immediate highlight following a tonally and atmospherically successful first vignette that played a little too close into reader expectations without much characterization of the brother and sister beyond their roles as tragic figures. This is a criticism I have of the first door, albeit one that did not impede my enjoyment of the first few hours, but it's also a purposeful trend in the first four vignettes (called doors) that pays off fantastically by the end of the fourth door as the realization that these tales curated by the Maid with tragic tones and cruel ends and all too poetic finales serve a dual purpose in punishing the characters within and obfuscating the truth from the player character.

Around the halfway mark of the narrative, the game asks the player to make an almost superficial, inevitable choice, one with a much deeper emotional resonance that I only realized much later. Without leveraging spoilers to entice any potential future readers of The House in Fata Morgana, I want to make it explicitly clear that this game is queer. I obviously cannot speak for the writer themselves, but Fata Morgana itself is a story very much predicated on the experience and themes of gender nonconformity that speaks in equal parts to intersex people and transgender people; the narrative crux pivots around this as a core element and it can’t be ignored, especially because of how empathetic and surprisingly delicately the writer handles the topic. The distinction has to be made, of course, between intersex and transgender people but with the understanding that intersex people can also be transgender, it is through this lens that Fata Morgana explores gender identity and it acknowledges this difference. There is of course some discussion to be had about the portrayal of intersex and transgender peoples in situations of despair and suffering and oppression in media, and I as neither cannot speak to it genuinely so I leave that in the hands of actual intersex and transgender people to unpack. In my limited judgement though, I think Fata Morgana takes a few missteps of language and drags out some sequences of suffering in a way that mirrors some sluggish pacing in the second half of the story in general, but ultimately affirms and celebrates these identities in a way that is some of the most respectful I have seen in media.

Briefly, I want to touch on the core themes of abuse, victimhood, hatred, and forgiveness. These are all inextricably tied together but what I found most compelling about their implementation in Fata Morgana, specifically near the end, is that the game never relents to a strict “cycles of abuse perpetuate hatred and violence and ill will and thus everyone is equally culpable and in the end nobody is really at fault(or everybody is at fault)” sort of mentality. Many of the characters in the game are fully realized in ways that often don't make them agreeable or even tangentially good people by the game’s judgement. The reader is asked to accept these characters not for their cumulative goodness or likeability, but for the human beings who have done good, bad, and everything in between that they are. All that being said, the VN also makes sure to emphasize that it is always in the hands of the victim to weigh the heinousness of the acts done upon them and determine whether they can forgive or cast off their abuser entirely. Several characters offer several different perspectives and decisions when presented with this query but it never creates a situation wherein the victim is beholden to meet their abuser(s) halfway. I can’t speak for others obviously but this was an intensely gratifying stance to me that the game reinforced constantly.

A lot of the elements of the game were similarly gratifying to me in a way that coalesced into a whole that consistently affected me. Yes, I teared up and cried on more than one occasion. I have some minor misgivings with the pacing and overly grave tone of the second half of the story, the relatively safe ending even though I somewhat made peace with it, underutilization of several key characters who could have used more fleshing out, and with some details of its exploration of gender and sexuality. All that being said, none of these came together in a way that meaningfully detracted from The House In Fata Morgana’s messaging, its characters or thematic weight. Perhaps the biggest tragedy surrounding The House in Fata Morgana, despite its notoriety in visual novel circles, is how little its merits and (relatively minor, in my view) failings are discussed or dissected, even among those who have played it, outside of overt characteristics like its art and music. Considering that I produced this review as a passionate, spoiler-skirting entreaty to play this visual novel, I am perhaps no one to talk as well. Maybe this will foster more discussion from new and old readers, maybe it won’t. So long as I contribute to the dialogue and even one person picks up this wonderful game, I can’t really complain.

I cannot explain to you what happened in this game. I could try, but this is too dense of an experience to ever be able to fully understand. It has much to contemplate, but even the themes and characters on a surface level make this a once in a lifetime experience.

The music, the graphics, the art style and the stories all perfectly combine to provide something special. Placebo and Correctness were obviously brilliant and while Matchmaker does feel like it lacks that special KTP factor, Tsuki and Osato more than make up for it. Tokio, Meru, Shinko, Shiroyabu and Kurumizawa are all obvious favourites too, and the Sumio and Kusabi cameos perfectly border between fan service and genius, especially Sumio’s involvement in the best chapter of the game.

I won’t be forgetting this game anytime soon.

what does it mean to be a creator? well, obviously it’s to make a work, something that is yours. but, what defines the line between being a creator or not? as a (self proclaimed) photographer i question, am i a creator? i create photos but i do not necessarily create the world within the confines of the photo. being able to maximize the impact of said world within the limits of a photograph is what i believe to be a key part of being a photographer.

bound by the chains of corporate demands and strict time windows, suda had the vision, the world. all that was needed was mikami to metaphorically snap the photo, and capture suda’s visions in the most substantially compelling way possible.

photographers are as much creators as a painter or musician is. they may not be the direct source for what they produce, but what artist is? everyone has influences and points of reference for their work. photographers have… just a much larger reference is all, a pre-painted canvas if you will, where they can do what they see fit with this canvas to create.

all that was left was the final touch, a soundtrack to accompany this creation. like how memories and stories can extrinsically loom in a photograph, a soundtrack looms throughout a video game. takada is, putting it bluntly, a damn genius when it comes to this field. he knows exactly the right drum beat, the right guitar riff that can emotionally intensify a scene.

im not going to go into what killer7 means in-and-of itself, rather what it means as a work, a creation. to explain what in the fuck goes on in this game is fruitless, much like suda’s prior works honestly. the thrill of kill the past is in its absurdity and broad ideologies, both never ceasing to be thought provoking in one way or another. there’s an endless amount of perspectives you could assume to try and narrow down what it all means, but personally i find it almost futile. don’t get me wrong i love discussing suda’s works in the context of their deeper meanings, although honestly i’m okay knowing i don’t completely understand games like flower sun and rain, 25th ward, and killer7. people are typically infatuated with what they do not comprehend, and are infatuated with wanting to comprehend. i am infatuated with suda because of his willingness to deliberately create something that people won’t comprehend. that itself i respect and it’s always a treat when these incomprehensible creations end up becoming flat out masterpieces.

and now it is complete. through the collaborative genius at grasshopper manufacture, an overwhelmingly artistic work both before and ahead of its time has been created. killer7 is both dated and timeless; both the worst, and best video game ever made. a game such as this will never be created ever again.

i’ve spent the past few minutes rereading what i’ve written thus far wondering how to conclude this concisely in a manner that ties everything together. it’s hard. i was thinking of talking about the gameplay but everybody knows the gameplay. everybody knows that no matter what, the instant bloody combustion of a heaven smile always feels good, and that the sounds that accompany the firing and reloading of your weapon always feel good. killer7 feels good.

i’ve realized that killer7 doesn’t really conclude and nothing ties together, but that’s the beauty of it. you’re left satisfied despite this, left with ideas and thoughts that boil. and they will continue to boil. killer7 will never end. as long as video games exist, killer7 will always have the last laugh.

The day he stops smiling is the day we remember his smile.

Good morning.
This farewell is as sad for me as it is for you.

I’ve prepared a goodbye party for tonight. A game competition will be included as well, so please feel free to participate.

The difficulty is small, but not to be trifled with.
As this will be the last opportunity, why not take part yourself?

Written in 1928 by S. S. Van Dine, the article “Twenty Rules for Writing Detective Stories” is a fascinating collection of 20 writing regulations that could, in theory, elevate a given investigation tale to its best possible iteration. Described by close friend and timeless author T. S. Eliot, as to one day having a nervous breakdown and spending the following 2 years in bed reading more than two thousand detective stories, the poet argues that during that time, Van Dine methodically distilled the genre’s formulas and began writing novels, to which he considered them to be masterpieces.

Out of his absurdly strict rulings, some may argue that most of them can in fact improve the narrative such as (10) stating that the culprit must play a role in the story and (15) stating that the truth of the problem must at all times be apparent, giving so a chance to the reader to decipher the story alongside the detective and not having to rely on hunches from time to time. The reception for his failed jurisdiction on the detective genre became a moderate success from the makers of such stories but not so much by the fans. It rejected possible clichés such as (11) servants not being able to be the culprits, and narratives that were not explored around enough at time such as (12) multiple culprits. People like clichés what can you do...

Over time however, reception of it started to get even worse, not only because of what was mentioned before, but in no small part due to the release in the following year of a much more CHAD reasonable article dissecting the mystery genre and its inner workings, called Knox's Decalogue, written by Ronald Knox. In one of literature's biggest middle finger ever, his 10 points were almost 1 to 1 with half of the Twenty Rules, prioritized giving the viewer a fair challenge of a tale, but this time allowing cliché tropes and creative liberties about its possible cast. Imagine Van Dine’s reaction seeing that become overwhelmingly more praised from writers and viewers alike. Take this big fucking L, nerd.

And while we get gaslit into thinking that the viewers rights to “fight back” in the intellectual game wasnt started by Dine, he will probably keep seething in his grave over the fact that some rules are obviously made to be broken at times, simply for fun. Even looking at the books in "golden age", some break fundamental rules that are praised nonetheless for it's creativity, as sometimes you can fix this unfairness in the game by using foreshadowing effectively (hats off to Disco Elysium). I am here solely to add to his perpetual torment in the history books arguing that his ruling number 3 in particular, is fundamentally why people like me and other highly sexy and intellectual individuals preffer the CHAD reasonable Knox's Decalogue more.

COMMANDMENT 3:
THERE MUST BE NO LOVE INTEREST. THE BUSINESS IN HAND IS TO BRING A CRIMINAL TO THE BAR OF JUSTICE, NOT TO BRING A LOVELORN COUPLE TO THE HYMENEAL ALTAR

It’s easy to just stop here and think about how many great mysteries would have not existed or be less impactful had every writer followed up on that, but we have to remember that this comes from someone living in what was soon perceived as the “golden years” for said genre. While you could argue that love could bypass any resemblance of a logical reasoning to which it would be the ends but not the why’s (aka when love devolves into lunacy with the killer incessantly screaming “I loved her” while being taken away) these are far and few between to be argued on Van Dine’s favor. Human affection can and will lead to insanity, but if the ultimate end goal is also one, was it really love?

The important element about love as a reason that has failed to be comprehended here, is that it can take many forms that I simply wouldn’t have time to begin describing here, as with just the change of a simple word in “love for others” becoming “love of others” you can turn tragedy into fortune. While the advent of romantic love that is heavily implied here does mean that the amount of plausible given possibilities are diminished, lesser infinities are still endless.

Now I’m sorry, but will there EVER be a better motive to kill, murder and slaughter someone, than the reason that brings up the loss of reason itself?

I will go further. There CANNOT be a single plausible reason for a murder in a tale that values the life of its characters and doesn't treat them as pieces waiting to fall off the board, other than actions relating to the innate fondness of others that we so desperately need. A given character in a tale that has their own romantic life all figured out should never be the killer nor suspect, as the most impactful and sincere motivation, from the bottom of their hearts, cannot be present.

Van Dine’s precepts make it very clear that (17) crimes by house-breakers and bandits are the province of the police department, not of authors and brilliant amateur detectives. If you fail to treat your victims and killers with the same amount of respect for an action that isn’t guided by an illogical leap-of-faith that seeks adoration of some sort, was it really a murderer or an overly intricate common burglar?

Love is the reason we sin.

Love is the reason we go further.

Love is the reason we are humans.

And to put it extremely bluntly.

Love just makes us do some stupid ass shit.

“ Love is generous, love is merciful.
Love does not envy, it does not boast. “ - Zepar & Furfur

" At times, love can make the invisible visible. " - Featherine

“ The love we give away is the only love we keep. “ - Ushiromiya Ange

“ To fear love is to fear life, and vice-versa.
One must never embrace death as long as love persists. “ - Ronove

“ Without love, it cannot be seen. “ - Beatrice

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Welp, I’ve used all my pretentiousness for now.

I know someone really special will be reading this soon so I’ll be brief now.

Merry Christmas Audrey.

I love you so much.

Do you want to be my girlfriend?

Mahōtsukai no Yoru is likely Nasu at his most restrained, mature and delicate - and it is so emblematic of his progress as an author as a result. This being the fourth of the big four Type-Moon works I've experienced - after Tsukihime, Fate/stay night and Kara no Kyōkai in that order - it's clear for me to see the evolution play out in real time; ironic considering that both KnK and Mahōyo were, as I understand it, initially written before Tsukihime. Though, it's clear Nasu et all took time to really rethink their approach with this one, and frame this ultimately tiny and breezy story as the introspective-yet-removed narrative masterpiece it is. As I've sat and reflected on Tsukihime and Fate/stay night in the months since I completed them, while working my way through Mahōyo, I think I've come out the other end loving all three of these works about equally, for different reasons. I'll talk about that more when I get around to rewriting my review of Tsukihime as well, but for the moment, know this - I've officially come to really love and be deeply inspired by the works of Type-Moon. These are wonderful stories, no matter how flawed in their varying levels of execution. As far as execution goes, though, I think there's a very strong argument to be made that Mahōyo represents Type-Moon at their very best...

First and foremost, while my personal tastes lean more towards the time-stood-still, distant Y2K-ish look of the original Tsukihime, there's simply no denying that Koyama, Takeuchi and their team were on the top of their game here artistically. The amount of polish and detail present in the character sprites, backgrounds, and CGs in Mahōyo is simply astonishing. And, when combined with the animation direction of Tsukuri Monoji, the result is an often jaw-dropping experience that pushes the boundaries of what can be considered typical visual novel presentation. Simply, I think Mahōtsukai no Yoru is the most visually stunning visual novel I've ever played, even outdoing the 3D modeling and impressive pseudo-animations of Muv-Luv Alternative. Lead composer Hideyuki Fukawsawa and longtime Type-Moon contributors James Harris and Keita Haga deliver my favorite soundtrack to a Type-Moon title since the original Tsukihime, with highlights including the somber, beautiful “Aozaki Aoko” and the truly fairytale-ish “Kuonji Alice”, the motifs for Mahōyo’s heroine pair.

Mahōtsukai no Yoru is a story rather atypical for Type-Moon, refreshingly. There’s not much in the way of twists and turns here; what you see is largely what you get, and the game telegraphs its moves in a way that allows you to see why things will play out the way they will, rather than anything catching you entirely off-guard. There are no trademark Type-Moon mind shatterers here like Tsukihime and particularly Fate/stay night were fond of, but the tradeoff comes in the subtle, fleshed-out characterization of its main trio. Rather than the protagonist-centric focus the narratives of the other big Type-Moon works focus on, Mahōyo is notably distanced from its cast, allowing each of them their own time to exist on a 1:1 level with the text. Neither Aoko nor Sojūrō nor Alice is the focal point with which our moral or thematic comprehension is balanced; they are three equally weighted presentations of the same ideas, granted the same weight and the same time alone and with one another to gather understanding of themselves alone and in communication. This is a morally dubious and somewhat standoffish trio of protagonists, but three people who you also come to understand, appreciate, and fall in love with over the course of the story. Simply put, it’s my favorite cast dynamic Type-Moon has presented since the Far Side of the Moon’s take on the mansion cast in Tsukihime - and there’s some very obvious overlap with that group here.

Sojūrō gets an extra gold star from me here, arguably my favorite male lead of the big four Type-Moon works - his background of growing up in the wilderness is reflected clearly in his dissociation with what could be considered the “moral binary”, and while being a sweet and well-meaning person, he’s still very much alien to the world around him in a way that feels isolating, complex, and earnestly believable. Aoko was a favorite of mine already from her appearance in Tsukihime, but I’ve come to love her further after visiting her own story of youth and complicated relationships with her surroundings and herself. Alice struck a real chord with me; her type of emotional despondence that melts little by little overtime has always been a favorite story of mine when told well (Hisui also happens to be likely my favorite Type-Moon character) and I found that she was probably my favorite of the cast when all was said and done.

The thematic drive of Mahōyo isn’t that far-off from some of their earlier works, but the means with which they’re explored are refined and a great deal more interpersonal than in those stories. These are people with their morals and drives largely figured out, but need to learn how to deal with the overwhelming experience of simply understanding and being understood by other people - not always an easy thing to do. Rather than Shiki or Shirō’s journeys to allow themselves some sympathy and genuine understanding, Aoko, Alice and Sojūrō must look outward and extend those things to each other - because they are a group stronger together than they ever could be alone. I’d be very curious to see how Nasu actually intends to follow up Mahōyo with its two sequels (which I’ll believe when I see them out, not just concept art or a teaser - signs I’ve become a real Type-Moon fan), but as it stands… yeah, Mahōyo is another masterpiece to rest Type-Moon’s laurels on. A provoking, beautiful, somber and yet… breezy and light experience. The game, in some respects, I’d been waiting to see from them since Far Side of the Moon in Tsukihime.

more than anything else, the silver case is one of the most endearingly cool games i've ever played. every change of the interface the reflect the themes of the chapter at hand, every swing-for-the-fences plot beat, every gruff toothpick-sucking one liner, every new order song title drop, everything we're shown and just as important the deliberate anticlimax of what we're NOT given and NOT shown - it all blends together to create this early masterwork that's still every bit textbook suda51 as killer7 or no more heroes, but so much more subtly grounded (in comparison) to any of his succeeding work i've played.

there's a deliberate feeling of monotony and repetition in the world and gameplay of the silver case that becomes an essential part of its narrative - whether it reflect on the beeline nothingness that is the life of tokio morishima, the scale's juxtaposing shift which grows literally larger but equally smaller and more intimate... there's just this grinding, menial feeling to all of the tasks and days gone by in the silver case. it feels as if nothing really happens until the right pawns are on the board and properly in play. you learn to love basically every person in this game to the point that you look forward to the next mundane conversation with them; you anticipate morishima going home and talking to red, or getting cyberbullied on chatrooms by teenagers, or the ballbusting stakeout chats between kusabi and sumio. so when even the slightest change occurs, it's going to take your heart for a spin. it's by design.

one of the other fine juxtapositions of the silver case is its dialogue, one of the finest localizations i've ever seen. everything about the silver case feels deliberately plastic at first; you're thrust into the world of hardened police officers spouting badass quips and insults - it's almost pastiche. the one-liners will stick around, the cool designs will stick around, but ultimately the story becomes that of broken, aging men who are being asked to examine their world and how it really works for the first time. the story of tetsu kusabi - potential candidate for my favorite character in ANY video game - carries this idea home the hardest. it's the story of a man pure in his mind of absolutes and superlatives essentially waking up for the first time, seeing the world for the pollockian quagmire of intentions, reasonings, and deliberations it actually is. the silver case is a game about hearts and minds connecting in the looming presence of y2kism, a story about the old guard and the new world on the horizon. i'll get more into the thematic underbelly of this game at a later date, because this is far from the only piece i want to make on this game - but its core structure and analysis of the dotcom era, masculinity and what we define that as, grief and trauma, isolation and abandonment, it all rings pretty true now as it did in '99, and i daresay this game even tackled concepts that it would take 2 years for mgs2 to get to earlier and perhaps equally as memorably. i see a lot of influence on death note down the line too, and as far as contemporaries, i'd say silver case is like 1/3 cowboy bebop, 1/3 ghost in the shell, and 1/3 serial experiments lain. it's memorable, powerful, important stuff.

the silver case’s ultimate resolve is pretty simple - the mysteries, the secrets, the twists, it’s all a load of bullshit anyways. it existed in a moment and that moment is gone. it’s in the past. the only way you're going to push through the pain, the grief, the trauma, the anticlimactic goodbyes, the old flames, the words left unsaid, the last memories of people and places you can't ever go back to or relive, is to simply refuse that darkness which cultivates in your past to manifest itself anymore. you have to grow and reflect and move on to become your true self. you HAVE to kill the past if you want to find that first ray of light; hope for yourself, hope for the future.

"Seize that fucking light, Akira."

THE SILVER CASE COMPLETE.
FLOWER, SUN & RAIN IS COMING...

🌕 Dreams Never End
https://youtu.be/WS1X0EBlQ3Y

Despite the fact I finished this game two months ago and never wrote or really said much about it, it kind of stayed in the back of my head and would crawl to the forefront at random times. Just the sheer existence of it is so... odd. What even is this game? The plot becomes so mind boggling at points while also having many grounded elements to it. The almost crazy prediction of what the internet would become, or scenes like Tokio at the bar which are just so awkward, and yet they feel real. I remember hearing people were upset about the translation having so much swearing but adults are vulgar man, they talk like this in real life. There's no anime nonsense or corniness to this dialogue in the slightest, it's straight to the point and realistic.
The aesthetic is, quite possibly, one of the coolest in a video game ever, and yet it's unsettling. Every session my heart was beating so hard because there's this paranoia, this sort of dread and despair I felt from the mundane environments I was exploring. Masafumi Takada's masterful OST cements the atmosphere that the game is going for, it's eerie, funky, emotional, thoughful, and so many other things at once. The art style always shifts in some way, whether it be going from Transmitter or Placebo, or Parade having a vastly different style than the rest of the game (both on PlayStation and the remaster). Or whenever the game shows live action footage of something, or decides to whip out an anime styled FMV. It has this uncanny element to it that sort of creeps me out, but is extremely stylish and memorable.
I don't entirely "get" The Silver Case. Maybe I never will. But that doesn't mean I hated it. In fact, I didn't dislike it at all. I loved it, and Suda51 has gained my upmost respect as a director because of his ambition, creativity, writing, and most importantly, style.

"Yes. Sometimes it's better to let people come to these conclusions themselves."

The best way to describe Disco Elysium is greatness. I'm not talking about certain aspects about it. Not the main parts or just the climax. Everything about it is carefully constructed and well-written. From the moment you get introduced to the main character, conflict, subplots and from the very last minute after you finish the game. There's a minute precision and care on every detail of the game, it's truly amazing. The mystery's well-thought out, the process is methodical and every angle is considered. Locations are memorable. B-b-but what if it sacrificed enjoyment for writing? Overdone joke but you just have to see it. The prose and dialogue are witty, humorous, wild, and organic. Every character have distinct personalities, motivations, and beliefs and contribute to the overall picture the narrative is going for. It's incredibly refreshing seeing how the characters interact and there are consequences with every choice you make even if you attempt to avoid them. What's at stake is believable. "Okay but you're just talking as if the game is objectively great and not coming from your own opinion." You know me, I prefer reading books, and visual novels now so this type of game works for me. There are 3 things I want from creators. First, I want them to be ambitious, I meant that I don't want to see them holding back. Go ahead make me uncomfortable and I'd prefer that instead of thinking what-ifs, and buts. I want them to commit in their vision in the way that they can only do. With countless other things out there and ideas recycled, there's still room for originality. Secondly, I want the story to be thought-provoking. It could be any topic but I want it to tackle grand ideas and down-to-earth ones. It wouldn't matter if you couldn't learn or reflect about anything from it that's relevant in your life. Lastly, it must make me emotional not that it's necessary. It'd be pointless if it's forced out of me but I want just a bit of everything. Joy, sadness, anger, catharsis, frustration, empathy, regret, etc. Such is life and how art is best experienced.

Well no surprise, they succeeded in every single category with ease. I already love stories these kinds of stories and glad that it still surpassed my expectations even with minor inconveniences and shortcomings. So go ahead and let yourself soaked with it's rich world and characters. Disco Elysium is a self-discovery journey awaiting you.

[post-25th ward face] haha ummmm yea!

first thing to get out of the way: the presentation here is a beast, even by grasshopper's standards. if it weren't for killer7's audio design i'd call 25w their aesthetic peak, so it follows then that this is some of the coldest atmosphere in games ever. you'd think the original silver case was the mobile game.

i mentioned in my flower sun and rain review that i expected 25th ward to be a "return to the grime" after the vacation away, but it turns out that's not entirely the case. 25 coming after 24 implies sequentiality, certain concepts and people do make a return, but the 25th ward--both the game and the setting--won't provide as much continuity as you might assume. in fact it will at many points try to shatter that continuity, and then dare you to look for it anyway. the 25th is influenced by the 24th, its a more rigidly enforced and even more claustrophobic city box, but its acceleration and sterility also makes for a keener sense of meditation on itself from so many angles, honing on in not just the city-net idea but also on the dynamics of surveillance, identity within gender/work/metafiction, exorcising the past, anachronistic reflection on the work from the authors, and games and the player-character.

this is best felt in the interactive space of the game, hugely improved and more considered than its direct predecessor. tsc tries to connect urbanization with cold unfeeling logic by having you solve codes to unlock doors and shit, but they are too infrequent and don't have much behind them beyond the numbers and ciphers themselves. 25w by comparison utilizes wizardry-esque navigation thru indoor hallway mazes, sex chat as repetitive dialogue trees, and constant password/pin entering (i don't make a lot of comparisons to fsr but this element feels the most like that game) to hone in on tsc's original thesis, expressing it more starkly and confidently. one really vivid example for me being when you are dropped into an apartment complex of four 7 floor buildings with 10 rooms per floor, in order to find a man hiding out in one of those 280 rooms. the "city" has been crunched down to "the apartment building" as a database, dehumanized yet also video gamey, onto itself; your partner is a "searcher" who can feel out where he is, so you search by building/disk, then by floor/folder, in order to target a piece of data that is a person.

that said i really had to think over this one, i practically immediately replayed it to sort feelings on it. tsc has the clearest sense of "character development"--how i took it anyway--guiding it and concludes on a more directly emotional note, and the interplay between its two scenarios feels the most effective compared to 25w's further and further divergences between its scenarios. BUT 25w is much tighter its in thematic construction, managing to be ballsier and THE most weapons-grade cryptic shit without completely toppling its jenga tower, and its more fun to think about after the fact in some ways. your preferral of tsc or 25w may depend on, at the risk of oversimplifying what its doing, how willing you are to accept characters that are more seemingly static in their personality, or at least foggier (the big exception being in matchmaker, imo the weakest scenario that feels unfinished by its end but is enjoyable on its own terms for having the most bluntly dynamic arc for its characters) for the sake of interrogating their role in the world. in many cases the players perception of them changing with their understanding of the story is what matters, and that is admittedly used to great effect with further readings. but its difficult to say how i mean this kind of thing exactly

i was ready to call it my least favorite of the trilogy after first finishing it but now it may be slightly better than tsc? im still not 100% sure where to place this, other than that i know fsr was basically predetermined to be my favorite so i can say its not at that level for me, but ultimately all three games are bangers so yeah. did my best to make a review that wouldn't need a spoiler-tag but my god at this point i am just constipated to get into this more

This town has been taken over, too. By countless, faceless ghosts. ▋

The Silver Case at its surface is a story of what can happen when you try to kill your past. Can you kill the past? Play the games and find out, but it is an indisputable fact that attempting to do so will lead you into strange directions, which is what lies beneath the surface. More likely than not your past will end up changing you. Consumed by the past. Consumed by the darkness. This is why it has to be killed, or else it kills you.

The 25th Ward is a twist in perspectives of how the past is tackled by different people. Some face it head on, some have to find it, some are so consumed by it that they are unaware of what it truly is. These are Matchmaker, Placebo, and Correctness respectively (at least that’s how i interpreted it). Just like the original game, all of the storylines bounce off one another while still filling in each other’s story gaps in a focused on-the-edge-of-your-seat way.

I’m gonna be real with y’all I have almost no fucking idea what to write next. I broke up my play sessions to give myself time to absorb the story. I spent two days after finishing it contemplating what the hell I was even going to write, and now I’m here. Sitting alone in my living room listening to Phantogram’s Eyelid Movies in somber over a video game. I still don’t know what to say. Video games have impacted me heavily in the past but none as strangely and uniquely as the Kill the Past series so far. The 25th Ward is the perfect embodiment of Suda’s expression in the industry and how far he can go. A complexity of ideas and themes intertwined to articulate, at its core, human ideologies. It’s all paced so well that when I reached the end I thought, “That’s the end?” but not necessarily in a negative way at all. Every point the game strove to get across was proven effectively, I was just a bit sad to see one of my favorite video game stories come to a close. I wanted more because it was so amazing. Admittedly I also wanted more time to figure out what the fuck had happened for the last 13~ hours lol. I wish I could go more in depth but if I did I would probably be spouting nonsense regarding spoilers and whatnot.

What I CAN explain though is the expertly arranged presentation and soundtrack. The boxed-in contemporary style of the original game is modernized and accentuated to an extreme. This could possibly be my favorite visual style of any video game. Background elements are now more distinctly interesting and support the themes of the current chapter even better. The color palettes used are also a lot more colorful which I’m absolutely down for. The artists for each of the storylines did spectacularly; I especially love the art style used for Correctness with its black and white pastel tones accompanied by infrequent splashes of color to make everything pop. Everything is just a marvel to look at. The typewriter sound is unchanged just the way I like it. I find it to be an insanely satisfying sound that’s just the cherry on top of everything else the game has to offer. The soundtrack is exactly what I love in electronic music and it's incredibly fitting. Love beat bumpin’ shit like the classic Metropolitan Edge and groovy Galaxy Glitch Groove by Akira Yamaoka of Silent Hill fame, while also vibing hard with Sandalwood and DRIFT. Every track hits me in the feels in incomparable ways. All of this is in tandem with one another becomes, what I feel to be, an unparalleled artistic composition in gaming.

The 25th Ward: The Silver Case is a wildly intense game that will continue to float around my brain for a long time. If you couldn’t tell already, this is everything I loved about the original Silver case and more. There’s honestly nothing I would change about it. Every character is identifiable and the writing stays consistently engaging throughout. Love Jabroni, love Tokio (as usual), love Osato (he’s a little bit of a quirked up white boy). This is a video game for me. It doesn’t conform to industry standards and does its own thing in an astounding manner.

I wish a great rain would fall on this town. And that everything would melt in the rain and be washed away. To the bottom of the ocean. ▋