You're trying too hard, bro! More or less, the main reason as to why I'm generally disinterested in modern horror games, which tend to serve as vehicles for cryptic lore dumps for YouTube analysts to pore over rather than fright-enhanced decision making. I don't want mindfuckery, I want regular fuckery, something that I was hopeful would be present in this kind of return to form. This game was sold to me as the best of Resident Evil meets the best of Silent Hill, but, in reality, it's the worst of both: Resident Evil's cramped item management without any of the brilliant circular level design that makes Spencer Mansion thrilling to route through even after dozens of playthroughs, and Silent Hill's scary-because-it's-scary imagery without any of the dread that defines each and every one of Harry Mason's fog-enveloped footsteps. Instead, we've got jumpcuts to character closeups and spooky stanzas of poetry, pulsating masses of flesh on the ground, and handwritten notes conveniently censored at the most ominous places- surface-level stuff that makes horror games effective for people who don't understand what makes horror games effective. I'm not engaged enough to decipher your jumbled-up story, I'm not interested in your generic sci-fi setting, and I'm not even scared! But, maybe if I actually felt like the character I was playing as, I would be! Fast movement speed and wide hallways make enemies pitifully easy to juke, and thus not at all intimidating. Exploration isn't exciting or intriguing because of how straightforward it is on a grand scale. Plentiful items and infinite saves mean there's not any pressure on you even if you do wind up making a mistake somehow. I initially chalked this all up to misguided attempts at balance, but they get harder and harder to defend once you realize that all you're really doing is (often literally) opening up a locked door just to find a key for another locked door somewhere else on the map, which makes the experience feel more like a parody of classic survival horror games rather than an earnest attempt at recapturing the magic. I hardly took out any enemies, I didn't burn a single body, and, on several occasions, I killed myself on purpose because doing that was quicker than having to run back to the save room to retrieve the specific contextual item I needed, which is about as damning as you can get for this kind of game. The only strategy to pick up on is keeping nothing at all on your person in between storage box visits so that you can handle when the game inevitably dumps five key items on you in successive rooms. Mikami's rolling in his grave!

The lone bright spots are the traditional puzzles, which, although are few and far between, frequently nail the physical satisfaction of fiddling around with a piece of old, analog equipment that you're half familiar with and half in the dark on. If this game had understood its strengths better, it would've been a fully-fledged point-and-click or even a Myst-style free-roaming puzzler. The actual survivor horror feels tacked on, as though it's obligated to be this kind of game because it's attempting to tell a story in the same emotional vein as the Silent Hill series and the player needs to have something to do before being shown the next deep, thought-provoking cutscene. I can't even say that it understands the classics from a visual standpoint, forgoing the fixed-camera perspective that gives each of Resident Evil's individual rooms a distinct cinematographic personality and instead opting for a generic top-down approach that makes every location feel the same. Though, that's not to say the art direction itself is bad. In fact, it's phenomenal, and easily the standout of the game's features, but it doesn't make up for how bland everything else is. At some point, this one demoted itself in my eyes from 'mostly boring but worth playing just for the aesthetic' to 'downright painful.' Maybe it was after the game pretentiously transitioned into a first-person walking simulator one too many times. Or, more likely, it was when some of the small details- red-light save screens, items conveniently located right on top of their respective instruction manuals, and even the sound effect of equipping your pistol- started feeling less like homages and more like creative crutches, indicators of an entirely rudderless experience. I really feel terrible for ragging on something that's evidently a passion project and extremely competent from a technical standpoint, and I sincerely hope the devs keep at it. But, man. I wish I got anything at all out of this. The one game I've played that's managed get this done, I mean, spiritually succeeding an era/genre rather than a specific series by remixing several blatant inspirations so proficiently that it ends up feeling like something entirely new, is still Shovel Knight, but I'm not sure the world's ready for that conversation quite yet...

The presentation of Signalis is off the charts; very obviously drawing on the aesthetics and atmospheric feel of numerous survival horror games of the 5th and 6th generation and doing those styles in a committed and distinctive way. The environments, character design, sound design, animated cutscenes and occasional first person sequences work so well in producing a visual marvel that was executed so well by just two people. The title screen and menus alone are a strong show of confidence and style than most AAA games can barely muster today, outclassing even recent Resident Evil that is somehow still missing the iconic flare of the announcer saying "Resident EVIL" when booting up the new games. I guess it's just too campy nowadays to do something like that.

I just wish I liked Signalis even more on the gameplay front. It utilizes many great approaches from Resident Evil, in particular the first entry, but the execution felt off or even too derivative, the latter of which doesn't bother me that much. The 6 item limit felt too restrictive for the amount of puzzle solving and items the game gives out, which leads to a ton of backtracking through the same pathways to the same item box to stash items and run back through the same path to get the item(s) you left. Incorporating a way to expand to at least 8 slots like in RE1 or assigning specific items like the flashlight (not bad but bizarre to make that take an inventory slot) to key items would alleviate this issue without potentially undercutting the tension with decision-making of space for more resources to deal with enemies versus holding items for main and optional progression. (Also apparently there's been a patch for this that addresses this complaint but I didn't experience it on switch).

I was also surprised with how poor the shooting and lock on is here. Even classic RE has more accurate aiming and in Signalis there were many times where shots straight up missed opponents even while I was directly facing them. It's very wonky which's probably in service of the tension of encounters, but I felt frustrated more than tense when mess ups like that happened commonly. Not to mention many encounters can be cheesed easily by running past enemies or tanking damage rather than having to waste resources because of a missed shot or two. They were better alternatives for me than just downing enemies and this never really failed in my run of the game. This isn't much of a gripe for me, but it could've been addressed through introducing a new enemy type that challenged or punished running or even allowing enemies or certain ones to follow you into or walk through doors into different rooms. It would make encounters and traversal even more perilous and unexpected and be much better than recycling one of my least favorite mechanics from RE1 (burning bodies) and upping it by applying it to all enemies and making it way more frequent, thus making me less likely to want to use my weapons.

That said, the puzzles do make up for the lackluster survival horror gameplay. While they don't involve too much brain power to solve, most of them possess quite a bit of intriguing lore and detail to the world and made me even more curious about my surroundings. The signal based puzzles and few enemy encounters that used the radio were a sonic and visual treat respectively and added even more questions and intrigue to the setting than just only reading random notes that gesture to the going-ons of the place. I also love the textural differences across some puzzles that make it feel like you are operating or fumbling with some outdated or obtuse tech as it prevents them from being very simplistic in feel/look and solving. The puzzles overall work in part in crafting a strong story and world for many excellent survival horror games and Signalis carries on this tradition with its puzzles communicating a great sense of environmental design and storytelling, aside from the hilarious amount of puzzle solving prizes being more key cards.

Level design and exploration is probably the only other detriment I have with Signalis. While I love the amount of detail put into each of the rooms and spaces, it felt really straightforward much of the runtime. I definitely tried exploring around the rooms for anything interesting that would come up, but this usually didn't amount to much outside of the usual finds. Nothing much off the beaten path or even an alternate path or two that makes exploring more inviting. This isn't much of a huge thing, but it was a bit disappointing going down just one predetermined path for most of the time.

Could it have used less overt mentions to stuff like Evangelion, Silent Hill, Resident Evil and other horror and sci-fi media to cultivate more of its own storytelling? Yeah I agree and it is a bit grating in some moments of directly signaling said influences that did take me out of a good game Signalis is; the whole 'nowhere' section was very eye rolling given Silent Hill 1 is very fresh on my mind and I didn't care much for the take on it here. It isn't all overwhelming and the game still manages to carve out its own path with its lore, style and characters like Elster and Ariane and their cute relationship. I don't really agree with Signalis being the 'best' aspects of classic Resident Evil and Silent Hill like some people dub it, but it's still a strong and compelling effort in its own right. I enjoyed this sapphic ass tale and I'm interested in what the developers make next that will probably be even better than Signalis for me. Hopefully without a puzzle that is completely spoiled by a note sitting five feet away from it.

it was just ok. the gameplay and aesthetics were only kind of interesting and has an unsettling atmosphere with wonderful art to match.

in all honesty, it almost felt like a hodgepodge of inspiration slovenly thrown together. it was like they wanted you to hear the words silent hill, evangelion, ghost in the shell, etc. the aesthetics are fine but nothing that is very subversive or groundbreaking so it overall just looks boring. much of the enemy design was just “crazy robot woman.” the random words in several different languages that popped up on screen felt more like garnish for a story that wasn’t there, rather than actually contributing to a cohesive plot. and the story was quite literally crumbs until the end. im all for environmental storytelling and a mysterious world, but the worldbuilding tries to keep itself too vague to the point where its structure is unstable and hard to parse. the lack of cutscenes for most of it do not help either; in fact it very much hurts it. as the player, it is hard to connect to elster at all because she barely speaks. there is hardly a cornerstone of development for her to even grow from because for the most part she seems like a blank slate. the characters get a few lines once every couple hours of gameplay, and that is about it for story outside of documents and the endings. it seems a significant portion of the playerbase has to watch a video or go through the wiki for the story to be understood at all.

the puzzles were at least interesting but the combat and exploration weren’t. there were many times where it was just a little fetch quest chain to go from key to key. it made the exploration more of a slog to go through rather than feeling like i was actually making discoveries.

i quite like the character designs in this futuristic setting, but the monster designs are underwhelming and it takes away from the horror they are trying to convey. the lack of variation in “mob” monsters make them an eyesore to encounter again. as someone who enjoys humanoid robot aesthetics, it would have been nice for them to lean more into body horror and elements of uncanny valley in these designs.

it honestly felt like people saw the word “lesbian” in other reviews and decided that was all they needed to be a good game. i love lesbian media but there has to be a point where you can say the writing was not the best. how far can tropes and aesthetics take you? i guess for this game it seems pretty far.

i feel like my fellow gay bitches online are all lying to me on this one. big issue: i think its story kind of sucks. Signalis is more interested in ominous poetry, mysteriously censored documents, and spooooky german words than actually setting an atmosphere or crafting a world. the protagonists' romance is supposed to be the beating heart but it read as very bland and hollow, you never get to know much about them and (SPOILERS) they all used to read Word Up magazine anyways. i'm not interested in filling in its blanks because none of it made me feel emotions. this would be fine if it was better to play but Signalis is too easy - its toughest element is its limited inventory, combat is largely avoidable and not too challenging if engaged with. there's not enough friction here, your android girl is a great runner and a great shot. the art direction is very nice, the models and lighting look gorgeous, but there's not enough unique assets in the game. it felt like i was mostly in the same few places fighting the same few enemies the entire time. i do think it succeeds at having some pretty inventive puzzles and i do love the first-person segments, i wish there were more (non-narrarive) setpiece-oriented ones. Signalis had one last thing it could do to hook me, but it loses me here too - none of this game is fucked up! there's never any freaky shit going down, no psychosexual pervert nightmares or nasty stuff or even anything slightly disturbing. i like yuri, i crave that sicko shit!!! Signalis felt like a dystopian teen YA with a bit of sprinkle of Twilight Syndrome and sci-fi militarism, very tame for what was supposed to be a hellish pseudo-reality.

This game is genuinely terrible. I played it with somewhat low expectations (as I do with most new games I play just so I can be wowed if it's really good) even after high praise and recommendations from so many other people but this game couldn't even bother to meet those low expectations. I'm not trying to be a contrarian either, this game is genuinely a humongous chore to play. The main gameplay loop in Silent Hill 2 essentially boils down to bumbling around a hallway or other such area trying interact with every single door you come across, constantly running into locked or broken doors and constantly checking your map over and over again to make sure which doors you've already accessed, until you magically locate the one that leads to an item or other area that lets you move to another room and...basically repeat what you just did. That's it. That is the ENTIRE main gameplay loop in Silent Hill 2, and it gets old extremely fast. This isn't fun, this isn't engaging, this is tedious and boring to the Nth degree. You do occasional riddles and puzzles sprinkled throughout the game; some of them were fine, others I managed to solve by complete accident without even knowing what the puzzle even was. And if you aren't satisfied with the incredibly boring gameplay loop of checking doors over and over again, you have the option of engaging in combat with (admittedly pretty bizarre and kinda freakily designed) monsters that lurk throughout Silent Hill, and somehow this ends up being just as bad as the exploration. Melee combat is stiff, slow, clunky and insanely repetitive, and the finishing kick to kill downed enemies is so finicky in execution that half the time I swear it's luck based that I'm able to pull it off without failing and having to readjust to finally HIT the thing. Firearm combat is just as bad but less troublesome considering they do the job much quicker than melee weapons and ammo is pretty easy to come by. Enemies in this game never feel like a threat, or something that fills me with dread and actively makes me not want to progress into the next area like other horror games have done; they're just an annoyance at best. There's no tension to be had and consequently there's no scares to be had either, as once the shit combat is complete you're back to doing the same dull monotonous routine you always do. And on top of that the "bosses" (if you can even call them that) are so laughably bad that it's genuinely a sight to behold. There's one section in the game where you're trapped in a room with Pyramid Head and you basically have to run around in circles avoiding his slow easily telegraphed attacks for a certain period of time until Pyramid Head just suddenly decides to piss off and leave allowing you to progress. Like...huh?? Am I missing something here? What was the point of that?

On the positive side, the atmosphere is nice and I thought the story was ok for as weird as it is, but these 2 are not enough to save this insipid slog of a game. Don't bother playing, it's not worth it.

As unmatched as Silent Hill 2's atmosphere is at times, with its incredible music and uncanny FMV cutscenes, I really dislike how it tackles the things it's "about". There are no real mysteries to the human unconscious here; it's all been categorized into clearly identifiable 'Themes' and 'Symbolism' based on a skim through the Wikipedia article for Sigmund Freud. There really isn't much room for interpretation or disagreement on what it all means.

The monsters represent James's repressed views toward his sick wife. The nurses represent James's sexual frustrations while visiting his wife at the hospital. Laura represents innocence and redemption. Maria represents an idealized version of his wife that he fails to hold on to. Pyramid Head represents James's endless self-flagellation. The appearance of the empty, decaying town of Silent Hill represents James's empty, decaying life. And I'm not a fan of media that can be boiled down to "this represents this", "x symbolizes y" so cleanly. It's so... sterile - like going through some kind of intro course for being able to identify themes and symbolism in art.

It's fitting then that the literal exploration of James's unconscious is similarly trivial. The game will present you with an initially daunting and unsettling place: an abandoned hospital, a labyrinthine prison - and then, right at the entrance, it hands you a map. As you explore, James marks down doors, dead ends, and puzzles, systematically demystifying anything uncertain about this place, revealing the artifice of all of this. It's just a crude process of elimination; walking door to door, checking each one off of a list. This is the problem with video games as a medium for horror: The tendency is to represent everything as a concrete, understandable 'system' or 'game mechanic' that sabotages any sense of confronting the unknown. These dilapidated ruins we explore throughout the game sure have an air of uncertainty, but in terms of our actual interaction with them, they're just video game levels, like any other.

The architecture of these spaces isn't very creative either. If you ignore all of the horror set dressing, they're mostly just regular buildings. That's unfortunate, because video games as a medium, while not entirely suited to horror, are uniquely suited to experimentation with architecture; they're the one form of media that asks the audience to personally inhabit and navigate a space. And considering Silent Hill is all essentially a dream projection, the developers could have gone in a very surreal direction. But other than a small labyrinth and one section of the hotel, you'll rarely find yourself in truly hostile or confusing geometry - the only real hostility you face is from the monsters.

And when James encounters these personifications of his most shameful repressed thoughts, how does he deal with them? Gun. The joke answer to "How would you make a video game about trauma?" After all, what did you think this was? A nuanced psychological horror/drama, the sort that you would find in an actual artistic medium? This is a video game, dude. Your actual engagement with these complex issues can only be in the most braindead ways imaginable.

Maybe this would be forgivable if the combat had more complexity than the story - but it doesn't. James is supposed to be a wimpy civilian, but thanks to auto-aim he shoots like a trained sniper. Even this would be excusable, though, if it weren't for the essentially limitless ammunition scattered thoughtlessly throughout the map. These two aspects come together to make combat a formality. The only way to really fail is to allow enemies to close distance with you and do melee damage. Then again, health potions are plentiful (and can be used while the game is paused), making even this threat moot. You can try to address these issues by turning the difficulty up, but this just turns the monsters into bullet sponges. That may fix the overabundance of ammo, but it also heightens the core absurdity of this game; you'll find yourself standing there, mashing square to unload shell after shell into a video game monster that represents depression. As you do that, ask yourself: is this really the height of "interactive art" or whatever people claim this game is?

Maybe my attitude toward SH2 is unfair; I will admit that the devs continuing to answer questions and debunk fan theories online 20 years later gives me a less favorable outlook. It could be my fault for letting content outside of the game ruin it for me. But I don't think that's completely it. The game itself seems to eschew any subtlety in its message, and the developers openly explaining the game's meaning online seems like a continuation of that lack of subtlety. I honestly think even the Metal Gear Solid series has infinitely more layers of hidden thematic meaning than anything you'll find here.

One thing I will give the game credit for though is how it assigns you an ending based on the psychology of how you play. If you fight recklessly and always seem to be an inch from death, the game is more likely to end with James taking his own life - reflecting the player's apparent death drive. And examining the knife (Angela's would-be suicide weapon) too many times can also result in James's own suicide; a great representation of suicide as a social contagion. Even if James retains the will to live, getting too attached to Maria will result in an ending where he loses all grip on reality. To achieve true redemption for James, the player must keep him in good health, avoid contemplating suicide, and keep Maria at arm's length while respecting the memory of his wife. This is a genuinely innovative way to implement psychological storytelling in a video game and I haven't seen anything else like it. And most importantly, this process is entirely mystified to the player; you don't see a tally of "depression points" or a scale between Mary and Maria telling you which ending you're leaning towards as you play. Unless you read the wiki, the game's process of assigning you an ending is a complete mystery - as it should be.

It's a shame the rest of the mechanics are so by-the-numbers, because this game's stellar art design deserved equally creative game design. And while it may have been a milestone for video game storytelling in 2001 (but then again, was it really?), I honestly think the medium has done a lot better, before and since.

Zagreus WhatsApp -
Megaera: Zag i NEED pussy
Than: Zag i NEED pussy
Aphrodite: Little godling, they all NEED pussy
Dad: fucking kill yourself

So something I occasionally like to do is look over query pitches for literary agent submissions, both to prepare myself for the day I eventually yeet myself into the slush pile, but particularly because a lot of the minutiae fascinates me. There are a lot of little does and don’ts that can make the difference between getting a rejection or a full submission: a lot of it, in particular, coming down to whether you know your target market and aren’t just some wannabe who doesn’t understand the field. Nowhere is this more evident in the space where you put your comparative titles — the books your book is most like. Generally, you want to make them something in your genre of choice released during the past five years, and also something not as well known. Conversely, doing things like comparing your work to a big book, something released far outside the last couple of years, or even comparing your title to a big-budget film are huge no-nos: all they do is show that you’re not quite well-versed in the genre you’re writing in, and potentially indicate to the agent that you think your work is more groundbreaking than it is. A good first impression can sell a work all by itself, and one of the worst first impressions you can give is that you’re just a genre tourist. You want to know your market, you want to know how your work fits in that market, and you want to show the agent just how well you know all of that while still fitting within the general bounds and structure of a query. It’s a tough balancing act, and it’s loosely fascinating to see where people tend to trip up, and just how tricky it can be to get everything right.

Anyway sorry about that preamble, I know sometimes I tend to go overboard with them, it’s something I’m trying to work on, let’s just get on with talking about the game and-

oh

oh

...

Twelve Minutes is a game where you play as a loving and devoted husband, who one day returns from work to have dinner with his equally loving and devoted wife. The evening goes off without a hitch, before a man claiming to be a police officer knocks on the door and demands you open up. Regardless of whether you let him in or he kicks the door down, he swiftly overpowers the both of you, demands of your wife to tell him where she hid ‘the pocket watch,’ then proceeds to shoot you in the head… sending you back to the beginning of the evening. It soon becomes clear that the husband is trapped in a time loop, and that not even staying alive can break you out. With no other options, you decide your only recourse is to find out why this is happening: using your foreknowledge of events to come to try and manipulate what occurs, all to find out why this cop is after the both of you, what the significance is of the pocket watch he’s asking for, and just what can happen within the space of twelve ten minutes.

I have to admit, it’s a fairly decent hook, and the first act of the game does a decent job of following it up. The apartment the game takes place in is small enough that everything you can interact with is well within reach, and it’s all a matter of experimentation: doing something, seeing the results, figuring out what you can glean from it, and how this information will help you resolve the overall mystery of the loop. I like the voice acting (even if the presence of Hollywood B-listers as opposed to professional voice actors makes me roll my eyes a little bit), and I’m also into how the game handles the consequences of your actions, and showing the disconnect between player and player character. Throughout the game, there’s a knife in the kitchen you are more than capable of using on your wife. Whether you do it for the funsies, or because you want to figure out what you learn by doing that, you stab your wife to death… all while the husband is freaking out, apologizing, and is absolutely horrified by doing this even beyond that loop. It immediately kind of brings in the reality of what you’re making your character do: taking something the player likely did out of curiosity and using it to make the atmosphere entirely, intentionally uncomfortable. As a whole, the game starts out well, with the premise immediately hooking you in and the initial stages providing a decent amount of options and things to do…

…only, as the game goes on, for you to find out that most of this game’s interactivity ends with what you already have. At the start of the game, the three things you can do in the apartment are to drug your wife’s drink with sleeping pills, hide in the closet so that the cop doesn’t know you’re there, and, if you do both together, you automatically indispose the cop when he tries to use a lightswitch. By the end of the game, these are still the only things you can do in the apartment. Most of what you actually do is navigate dialogue trees with your wife. And show your wife items to unlock more dialogue trees with her. And then do dialogue trees with your wife so you can then do dialogue trees with the cop. And this is all dialogue you’ve likely seen before and you are then going to see again all because maybe at the end of one diatribe there’ll be a new option you can pick, or that you didn’t pick before, which might mean something going forward. You might think ‘oh, can’t you just skip dialogue? that’s a feature that’s in basically every story-based game to sift through the tedium of seeing the same dialogue over and over again,’ but that’s not the case here. In Twelve Minutes you can skip through some dialogue… one line at a time, as if you’re going through a Dark Souls vendor’s dialogue to try and access their wares. And if you’re not actively in a cutscene with them — if you’re allowed to walk around the apartment while they have their dialogue — you can’t skip through it. You have to wait there, minute by minute, line by line, until you have the opportunity to step in and have something new happen. If you’re looking at your phone, or if you accidentally select the wrong option… whoops, loop ruined, go back to start, go through everything, manually, again.

Which, frankly, if the comp titles being intro-level Film Studies picks (which, like, no shade, I like two of those movies a lot, but also wow those are some basic bitch answers) wasn’t indication enough, the lack of polish and how… dated it feels, mechanically, really go to show how little it knows the genre it’s in. Even beyond the oodles of dialogue you oftentimes can’t skip through, the game’s so finicky and overcomplicated even when, on paper, it’s straightforward. At the beginning of the game, when I was meant to just mill around the house and have a romantic moment with my wife, I accidentally put my plate of food in my inventory when I tried to eat it, singlehandedly pissing my wife off enough to call the whole evening off. At one point, you’re directed to show the cop a picture on the fridge, but it’s not good enough to show the cop the picture on the fridge, you must engage him in dialogue trees that will tell him about the picture on the fridge, he’ll go and check it… only for the loop to be ruined because the picture on the fridge isn’t there. Because the picture of the fridge is currently in your inventory. Because you needed to show him the picture on the fridge so you then tried to show him the picture on the fridge. This then forces you to do the whole process again because, for a game partially about messing about in a time loop, and a genre/medium all about cause-and-effect and the consequences of your actions, this game is so rigid. There’s only one way you’re ever allowed to do things, and it’s usually the way where you find the item you need… then do nothing with it, instead just bringing it up in a dialogue tree down the line. For an adventure game, one that places a lot of emphasis on walking around and finding things in your apartment, it feels like the adventure gameplay runs contrary to what the game actually wants to be. Like it wants to be a visual novel but the dev is too busy looking up /r/movies ‘what’s your favourite psychological thriller?’ to realize that interactive media is more than just anime dating sims.

Because, like, if all the game wants me to do is go through the same dialogue trees over and over, then… why is this an adventure game? What’s the point of having to interface with your inventory and have to go through the whole twelve-step, two-minute process of drugging my wife over and over again at the start of near-every loop? What’s the point of being able to walk around my apartment during dialogue if I have to wait right where I am to do the next thing I need to do? It’d certainly be more streamlined if the game was only about navigating the dialogue trees it so wants me to navigate at the cost of anything else. And the game would certainly feel more playable if it had… any of the quality-of-life features that virtually every visual novel has by default. Why sit around, waiting for the game to run through dialogue it ran through before to maybe reach something new when I could just… skip to the next branching point, or the next bit of dialogue I haven’t already seen? When the last part of the game essentially boils down to “do this complicated and finicky setup to have a heart-to-heart with the cop, have an entire five minutes worth of conversation, then go back to step one, do the entire setup again, do the entire conversation again just to use something you learned during the first conversation to learn something new the next conversation just to go back and do that entire, unskippable process two more times…” why do that when you could just quicksave, or use a flowchart to go right to the point where things actually diverge? It’d certainly be much smoother to go through. And it’d definitely feel more of a match in terms of genre than the adventure game it currently is, where every convention it uses (inventory puzzles, the need for the game to be running in real-time) directly works against the experience and makes it feel much worse to play.

…I’m aware that this game’s ending is… rather disliked, and a big sticking point for most people I’ve seen talk about this game, but on my end… it was mostly just kind of whatever — its attempts to feel fucked-up and disturbing feel rather vanilla, honestly. And any chance for it to have an impact vanished when, instead of focusing on the immediate reactions of the characters, it just zooms into incomprehensible mind-palace shit and also you can fuck the whole segment up and you have to go out of your way to get back in and try again. Quite frankly, it feels like more of a smokescreen for what I felt were the game’s actual problems: how rigid, tedious, and finicky the game was on its way up to that point. There’s certainly initial promise — the setup works well as a narrative hook, and the initial stages are at least fun to experiment with until the game starts to show its warts — but when you can find ren;py VNs on itch.io and Steam with more polish and quality of life than this publisher-backed project… it becomes loosely clear this game thinks it’s more groundbreaking than it is. Comparative titles aren’t just buzzwords that your work might vaguely be like, they’re works you drew from, that were important in the process of constructing your own, and show to those with a more discerning eye that you’re not just a faker looking for prestige. And perhaps, if more time was spent researching the field rather than just throwing random psychological thrillers into your elevator pitch, this game could’ve been one of the many entries of the canon of time loop interactive narrative, rather than some brazen attempt at feeling like an innovation that it isn’t. 3/10.