Audiovisual hyperbombast coated in that sweet, sweet Sega Dreamcast slime, a synesthesia-induced trip through techno-dreamland sculpted in wireframe and cast in the chromatic sheen of neofuture web-scapes. Following the steps of an allegorical hackerman, you annihilate endless waves of antivirus battalions as you fast track your way to each area’s AI boss battle. Along the way, beats mix with the game's pseudo-experimental approach to sound design, to form a rich sound system of eclectic cadences tightly wired in orchestra hits and synth crashes.

Themed broadly on icons of civilization and humanities broader evolution, each level leading up to Area 5 is a tease at what the game represents, a build to the game’s grander view of humanity and the inevitable future of human life. Speaking less pretentiously: You are here for Area 5, backed by the flawless masterpiece “Fear”. A crescendo on the themes the game is throwing down, the level spins a tale on the birth of human life, rising from the oceans as millions of species ebb and flow with the tide of time, culminating with the final step of live, another evolution to the afterlife, the void, the Other.

Weightlessness and audiophilia are the key components of Rez, in design and in execution. Flawlessly, the game encapsulates this ephemeral bliss I can only associate with Detroit Techno and 90s Hollywood Hacker pop culture, a flashpoint reflecting on a prior decade’s genre evolution, razed to the ground and resurrected as a new, hi-tech, form. A crisp single-hour runtime packs in a feeling that can only be associated with the era it comes from, inseparable from the past while looking to the future in cautious optimism.

Speaking as simple as possible: Rez rips. Play Rez. It’s on so many things. Go for it. Mess around with Area X too; such a fun addition.

Reviewed on Sep 08, 2021