HIGH Witty, offbeat dialogue steeped in queer culture, Grammy-worthy soundtrack.

LOW Boss fights.

WTF This game is hornier than a Renaissance faire, so how are there no sex scenes?

Sorry We’re Closed, a new survival horror title published by Akupara Games, is a startlingly strong debut for developer Ã  la mode games whose creative team is more of a dynamic duo — one person wrote the code and another created the lore, world, art and music. From the moment I laid eyes on footage and stills of it, I knew it would be something special, and I was glad to be proven correct.

The story beats mostly deal with the unique challenges of navigating queer relationships, made even more complicated when they are between angels and demons.

SWC’s protagonist, Michelle, has a fraught relationship with love due to her history with another woman, and she clearly suffers from depression as a result. As Michelle works the closing shift of her dead-end job at a convenience store, the player has to decide how to respond to NPCs who complain about their relationships or share conspiracy theories about demonic activity in the area. However, SWC isn’t just a depressing store clerk sim. 

The player soon finds that the strange theories she hears are more than rumor once she meets the neon-pink Duchess — an archdemoness hellbent on making Michelle love her. Things get even weirder when Michelle discovers that a third eye has appeared in the middle of her forehead which allows her to switch between reality and the parallel demon dimension with a snap of her fingers. From here, Sorry We’re Closed quickly shifts into something resembling a fever dream, and the player is met with a nightmarish alternate reality where the rules of time and space are blurred.

Gameplay is dynamic and varied, allowing the player to alternate between the fixed isometric camera of survival horror classics and the perspective and combat mechanics of retro first-person shooter titles — and knowing how and when to switch between the modes is important as it allows for some interesting puzzle-solving.

For example, a wall in a crypt that has a gap, but the player can’t see it unless they’re in first-person. In another section, the player must maneuver around floor spikes that can only be seen by activating Michelle’s third eye. By the final act, the player will have navigated a variety of head-scratchers, the most challenging of which use a combination of all the techniques they will have learned by that point.

Another important aspect of the third eye is how it relates to the real-time combat. Using it while in first-person causes the screen to turn hot pink and reveals enemy hearts which act as weak points — the player can dispatch foes at a much faster rate if they can successfully shoot each one as it appears. This also charges up the Heartbreaker — a one-shot-kill gun that doubles as the only weapon capable of bringing down bosses. Bosses have at least three giant hearts, which means that the player must find a way to charge up the Heartbreaker (usually by shooting their extremities like tentacles or hands) before they can finally do away with them.

Unfortunately, the boss fights are one of the weakest points of Sorry We’re Closed. The first boss is woefully easy — just a few moves for the player to memorize and then wait for an opening to hit its vulnerable points. Others called for more skill and precision as well as multi-tasking (endgame bosses force the player to dispatch waves of enemies at the same time in order to be able to use the Heartbreaker) but they were all more or less achievable using the same strategy.

In terms of creature design, however, the bosses are thoughtfully realized as they often reflect certain qualities of the people they began as, such as the aquarium level boss, Matilda. She was a pop singer before turning into the towering, tentacle-slinging monstrosity the player finds at the end of the level, and they’ll know it’s her from her signature lavender bow which can be seen comically resting on the back of the monster’s head as it emerges from an overflooded tank.

Speaking of design and style, the neon-soaked PSX aesthetics are on-point and the attention to detail is undeniable, from the blocky, dreary environments to the flashy, anime-inspired character models (the Duchess resembles a classic shoujo villain, replete with a posh-sounding laugh that accompanies every line of dialogue) and the enemies are pure nightmare fuel. One bloodied, angular creature sent a chill down my spine the first time I encountered it, and many offer a considerable challenge, especially in groups when the player must sometimes hold off multiple waves of enemies while waiting for an objective, like a power generator that needs time to charge, in order to be completed.

It’s worth mentioning Sorry We’re Closed‘s music, courtesy of the Okumura Collective — a group of singers, rappers, beatmakers and producers who also worked on the soundtrack for No More Heroes 3. Their music effectively complemented the atmosphere and echoed thematic elements. For instance, the refrain, “the more I start to change, the less I see myself,” reflected how Matilda became a monster by succumbing to her desire for personal gain at the cost of her own humanity.

Despite its underwhelming bosses and somewhat awkward FPS mechanics (which I actually found endearing as a PSX nostalgist) Sorry We’re Closed presents one of the most singular gaming experiences I’ve had in recent memory. I was charmed by its low-poly graphics, hearkening back to the classics while maintaining its own distinct visual style. It also had me constantly on the edge of my seat, not knowing what to expect in terms of the varied, hybridized gameplay and the unconventional story filled with queer-centered subject matter and a delightfully warped sense of humor.

For players looking for something a little outside the usual fare, Sorry We’re Closed is the offbeat survival horror genre-blend they didn’t know they’d been waiting for — and as one of that number myself, I can say that it was an experience unlike any other.

Rating: 9 out of 10

Disclosures: This game was developed by Ã  la mode games and published by Akupara Games. The game was obtained via publisher and it is currently available on PC. It was obtained via publisher and reviewed for PC. Approximately 13 hours were devoted to the campaign mode. The game was finished. There is no multiplayer mode.

Parents: This game is not yet rated but there is a considerable amount of violence, blood and gore, explicit language (f-bombs are dropped several times) and sexual innuendo so I would rate it M if it were up to me.

Colorblind Modes: There are no colorblind modes available.

Deaf & Hard of Hearing Gamers: This game features dialogue presented in text format or audio but only as a way to highlight the emotions of a particular text e.g. sighing or screaming. In addition to sound, incoming threats are indicated by different markers and there are no other sounds that affect accessibility for members of the Deaf community which makes it fully accessible.

Remappable controls: The controls can be remapped.

The post Sorry We’re Closed Review appeared first on Gamecritics.com.

HIGH The environments and movement combine for immaculate vibes.

LOW The free-flowing movement can get out of control.

WTF The protagonist’s eyes make it look like he’s possessed.

I don’t think there is a game that embodies the spirit of Hayao Miyazaki and the Studio Ghibli movies more than Europa — but instead of being a cheap copy, it carves its own path through stunning environments, whimsical gameplay, and a thoughtful message about mankind’s relationship with the natural world.

Europa is a 3D platformer where the player begins as Zee, an artificial boy equipped with a magical levitation device strapped to his back. With this jetpack full of whimsy, Zee gets to explore the idyllic paradise that is Europa, an extraplanetary colony meant to be mankind’s next utopia. Along the way, Zee collects pages of a journal from his dead father that guide him through this world as he uncovers the mystery of what happened to this abandoned paradise planet.

As his father’s narration via journal explains, Europa was a human utopia long in the making. Europa was supposed to be a place where humans could live without worry, but all that Zee can see are long-abandoned ruins without a trace of human activity. The only things left are the “gardeners” — a legion of AI-powered robots that made the planet liveable. The player gets to see thousands of these gardeners along their journey, as they’ve evolved into life forms that resemble Earth’s animals. I got to see herds of real deer along herds of robotic deer living together in harmony with flocks of mechanical birds flying above me.

All of these lifeforms live in the paradise that is Europa. It’s a world filled with peaceful environments taken straight out of a painting. Rolling hills, snowy mountaintops, endless oceans filled with bioluminescent life — it’s a miracle that all of these locations fit into this game cohesively, yet it’s crafted so seamlessly that I didn’t bat an eye.

However, traveling in this environment takes some getting used to. With Zee’s jetpack, he can hover just above the ground, charge up a tall jump, or fly across entire areas with the help of hundreds of pockets of energy (to keep his flight sustained) scattered around the world of Europa. Abundance and flow are critical gameplay themes in Zee’s journey, as every part of Europa’s movement ties into each other, and I was never far from another ball of energy I could use to power up a new flight, and I would often find myself chaining power jumps into hovers into longer flights as I flung myself across sections of the map.

At times this movement is clunky, since it’s difficult to slow Zee down and change direction when he reaches breakneck speeds, but since there’s no penalty in the form of losing health or “dying” if Zee gets blown off course, it’s fairly easy to reorient him. A core theme of the story is how mankind interacts with the natural world, and Zee feels like an integral part of the environment he is exploring, frictionlessly flowing in and out of areas. It’s like Zee is a leaf on the wind, and we’re just riding the current.

Zee’s journey isn’t just leaping and bounding around the world, though. Between every major area are usually a few simple puzzles and some collectibles for Zee to pick up. Featured treasures include items that boost the capacity of Zee’s jetpack and hidden emeralds that are the side collectibles of Europa. These emeralds reward player exploration and experimentation, and I wasn’t able to get even half of the forty available. However, I was able to complete all the puzzles around Europa.

Despite their simplicity, there were a few ideas that really stood out amongst other 3D platformers, including rotating platforms, disappearing blocks, and keys filled with energy scattered away from their appropriate keyholes. They’re all a bit rough around the edges, but they achieve their purpose in Europa’s overall narrative. That said, with only about six hours of total runtime, it’s unclear what these puzzles could have looked like with a few permutations thrown in the mix for a longer experience.

In a larger sense, what Europa is, more than anything else, is simple — yet not in a way that detracts from the overall experience. It’s incredibly focused in trying to show an idyllic paradise that happened to fail because of human hubris. The puzzles don’t need to be complex stratagems that take more than five minutes to solve. Some of the best moments in the campaign involve Zee simply flying around the world, carefree and exploring how alive Europa can be.

Interspersed with the wonders of this natural world is narration from Zee’s father. Rarely do I think that narration adds to an experience in a videogame, but Europa’s does the clever thing where they don’t tell the player exactly what they’re seeing, but they fill in the gaps where the player has questions. The writers lay out the story along Miyazakian principles of capitalism, exploitation, and destruction of the natural world eloquently, but in an innovative plot that flows between these themes. All of this is told by the deceased narrator, Zee’s father, who was supposed to be the architect of this paradise, yet ultimately found more happiness in his relationship with Zee.

Despite its simplicity, Europa establishes itself as a whimsical, wondrous experience floating through the wilds of a fallen utopia. I won’t forget it anytime soon.

Rating: 7.5 out of 10

— Jack Dunn

Disclosures: The game was developed and published by Helder Pinto, Novadust Entertainment, and Chozabu (Alex PB). It is currently available on PC and Switch. This copy of the game was obtained via publisher and reviewed on PC. Approximately 6 hours were devoted to the game, and it was completed. There are no multiplayer modes.

Parents: This game has an ESRB rating of E for Mild Fantasy Violence. There is no combat in the game, but the main character does have to dodge energy blasts from hostile turrets and mechanical birds that try to knock him out of the sky.

Colorblind Modes: There are no colorblind options.

Deaf and Hard of Hearing Gamers: There are subtitles in the game, and no audio cues are required for gameplay. The subtitles can be resized into 7 different sizes. The game is fully accessible.

Remappable controls: Controls are fully remappable.

The post Europa Review appeared first on Gamecritics.com.

HIGH Simply chilling in high places and taking in the view of the world.

LOW The ending, which is poorly designed and written, and riddled with bugs.

WTF Oh, so that’s not a frog statue.

The planet Cigalo is dying. Its ecosystem has been shattered, its swamps drained, and its surface strip-mined in order to build a spaceborne array of solar panels that will eventually block out its sun. An environmental catastrophe interrupted the project and forced the exploiters to depart, leaving behind abandoned facilities and mountains of scrap.

As Caravan SandWitch begins, players step into the role of a teenage pilot trainee and Cigalo native named Sauge. She’s just received a distress signal from her sister, who was assumed dead after disappearing on on this half-ruined planet six years ago. Although that premise sounds grim, Caravan SandWitch itself is anything but. The desiccated world of Cigalo is rendered in attractive, saturated, cel-shaded graphics. There’s no combat whatsoever, and most of its play loops are built around exploring, collecting items, and driving folks around in a big, bright yellow van.

Sauge progresses the story mostly by reaching new sites in the world. Initially this is gated by a need to disable “jammers” that block communications and blot out the map, but as the plot unspools, it becomes necessary to reach specific locations to empower transmitters and link disparate decrepit industrial locations through a kind of teleportation network.

As is standard for third-person open-world games, these tasks are presented with a minimum of time pressure. A few character-related quests get locked out when Sauge gets a new tool, but more time is always available to finish these before moving on. The passage of days is noted, but nothing moves forward until Sauge collects enough scrap parts to build the next sensor or grapple gun and the player chooses to advance to the next chunk of the adventure.

Although driving the van is generally smooth, one could complain a bit about the platforming. Sauge will frequently clip through a ledge while mantling, particularly if the shape is odd. On tight ledges, Sauge will sometimes rotate in a random direction while jumping, though they will still grab and mantle to the next ledge correctly. Even when the animations got dodgy, the result was generally what I intended, and the small number of unexpected failures didn’t result in any permanent harm since Caravan SandWitch has no fall damage.

The total harmlessness of falling even from enormous heights might support a chill experience, but it also plays a part in rendering events curiously inert. It’s fine for a story not to have combat, but Caravan SandWitch feels like it goes beyond this to evict any kind of conflict entirely. Despite the desperation of the scenario players are presented with on Cigalo, Sauge gets to drift through it without truly confronting the planet’s exploiters, the elements, or even her parents.

For all her ominous looming, the eponymous Sand Witch does almost nothing directly injurious to any of the characters. The planet’s native sentient species, who suffered cultural and physical genocide, hold no apparent animosity towards the lingering humans on the planet. Only one character evinces even the slightest negativity towards Sauge and he’s quickly won over. Caravan SandWitch even shies away from confronting the damage the loss of Sauge’s sister’s caused the family.

The poorly-translated dialogue contributes to this problem. Almost every line in Caravan SandWitch is intelligible, but they’re often abrupt and unmusical, as if important nuances from the original French were elided by the translation. The conversations are functional, but any emotion comes across as perfunctory and shallow. It’s particularly bad towards the end of the campaign as the subpar dialogue interfered with the intelligibility of the action, sapping what little power there was in SandWitch’s contrived, half-baked endgame choice.

Despite its numerous charms, Caravan SandWitch just didn’t sit right with me. There is perhaps something to be said for a chill attitude in the midst of apocalypse, but this experience gets there by avoiding all of its tragedies, save one. The looming death of this world and seeming indifference from everyone inhabiting it left me too uneasy to fully accept the atmosphere Caravan SandWitch seemed to be after. While Cigalo was beautiful to see and relaxing to visit, even as the planet crept ever closer to collapse, I kept wishing that someone would rage against the dying of its light.

Rating: 7 out of 10

Disclosures: This game is developed by Studio Plane Toast and published by Dear Villagers. It is currently available on PC, PS5 and Switch. This copy of the game was obtained via retail purchase and reviewed on a home-built Windows X PC equipped with a AMD Ryzen 2700X processor, an ASRock X470 motherboard, 32 GB RAM, and a single GeForce RTX 3080 graphics card. Approximately 10 hours of play were devoted to the single-player mode, and the game was completed. There are no multiplayer modes.

Parents: According to the ESRB, this game is rated T and contains Language and Violent References. This is a terrible classification. The mentioned violence is no worse than your typical 6PM newscast and I can’t recall Sauge ever going harder than “drat”. My main reservation is that in one of its endings a character commits suicide by choosing to remain behind (offscreen) in an exploding building. Even with that, I would not put this above E10. The world’s most tedious and unlikable people (perhaps the ESRB raters are among them) will also be annoyed that Sauge has two dads and many individuals are referred to with they/them pronouns.

Colorblind Modes: There are no colorblind modes available.

Deaf & Hard of Hearing Gamers: This game is fully accessible. All dialogue is in text, but text cannot be resized or modified. There are no essential sound cues in gameplay.

Remappable Controls: Yes, this game offers fully remappable controls on PC. MK controls are as shown in the attached images. Controller defaults to X for interaction, Y for exiting / returning to van, A for jumping or acceleration boost (in van), B for exiting dialogues. Left and right sticks default to move and look, respectively, left and right triggers default to decelerate (in the van) and accelerate (on foot and in the van).

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HIGH A chill, pleasant mood elevated by lovely music and art.

LOW It’s very short, and oddly strict about timing.

WTF It’s oddly bright and upbeat for a game about trying to get some sleep.

When it comes to rhythm games, one persistent (yet understandable) misunderstanding about the genre is that it’s about appreciating music. While the overwhelming majority of rhythm games are framed around music, rhythm play is ultimately about rhythm. Music is just the best mechanical device to build a timing-based set of mechanics around. It’s why so many rhythm titles are still playable in the deafening cacophony of an arcade, or why many rhythm players can still succeed with the music on mute. However, Half Asleep Games’ Melatonin might be one of the few where the music is truly essential.

The concept of Melatonin is heavily informed by genre classic Rhythm Heaven, and like Rhythm Heaven, Melatonin frames its challenges around scenarios set to music. But, where Rhythm Heaven was whimsical, silly, and focused on bizarre, energetic set pieces, Melatonin‘s framing is a more coherent and chill.

As one might expect of a title named after the brain hormone that helps regulate sleep, Melatonin is about a young person trying to get a good night’s rest. Unfortunately, their brain seems to have other ideas, with stages organized into five “Nights”. Each musical piece is centered around a dream subject, such as “Work,” or “Nature,” or “Space”. Melatonin‘s hand-drawn visuals are excellent, with character art and lines reminiscent of modern cartoons and a light, pink-and-pastel color scheme.

The music is a standout, with a number of relaxed pieces produced both by Half Asleep Games and other producers like Gravity Sound and Filippo Vicarelli. Fans of selections found in the “Chill Beats” and “Lo-Fi Girl” corners of YouTube and Spotify will find much to like in Melatonin‘s soundtrack. While consistently of a piece with the dreamy vibe, the songs do vary in tone, with some of the more stressful dream subjects having a darker mood.

Meanwhile, Melatonin varies the interactions with each dream, with the patterns themselves varying throughout the song. For example, a dream about shopping might show players a pattern first, then have them swipe their credit card to match the pattern to buy trinkets. Meanwhile, a dream about time challenges players to wait until the pause in the beat to bat away a flying clock. A dream about exercise has players hitting shoulder buttons to flex their right or left biceps. Melatonin then ups the challenge by speeding up the song, slowing it down and messing with the prompts.

Melatonin‘s strongest Rhythm Heaven influence is in the nature of the these prompts. While most modern titles often use a standardized set of visual cues to tell players the timing of the beat, Melatonin challenges players to listen to the beat for their cue. Most stages vary or even hide the prompts at certain points, forcing a player to pay attention to the audio as much as the visual. Helpfully, the game doesn’t throw a player into the deep end, as there’s a mandatory practice stage for every song and an explanation on the nature of each mechanic.

Melatonin also has assists that may help players with poor timing or those with disabilities. These can consist of adding a metronome beat, or permanently turning on the tutorial-style button prompts, which makes Melatonin a more “traditional” rhythm experience. Personally, I found the scoring assists which widens the “perfect” timing window to be the most helpful. Melatonin doesn’t penalize one for turning on assists either, which I appreciate as someone who was never a fan of the way some devs try to shame players who want to take it easy.

A while it’s a conceptually-perfect perfect love letter to Rhythm Heaven while still offering its own vibe, Melatonin isn’t free of the occasional sleep-disrupting issue. Without assists, play is surprisingly unforgiving on timing. Perhaps it’s just my own lack of skill (or my aging reflexes) but some stages were basically impossible for me to complete without turning on scoring assist. A few of the interactions also rely on an unintuitive understanding of the timing for their cues, as well.

Also, Melatonin is on the shorter side, clocking in at under three hours to get through all available stages. The included custom beatmap options and a personal quest to get a perfect score can add time to that number, but one could theoretically clear Melatonin in the time it takes to have a nice weekend nap.

With all that said, Melatonin never stopped putting a smile on my face. The pitch-perfect sound and visuals, along with the twist on Rhythm Heaven‘s under-imitated style make for a unique and memorable, if brief, experience. Consider it a compliment when I say that my time with Melatonin passed by like a pleasant dream.

Rating: 7 out of 10

Disclosures: This game is developed and published by Half Asleep Games. It is currently available for the PC, Switch and PS5. This review is based on a code provided by the publisher and reviewed on PS5. Approximately 2 hours of play were devoted to the single-player mode. There is no multiplayer mode. The game was completed.

Parents: This game is rated E by the ESRB, with content descriptors for Mild Fantasy Violence. The rating does not have a description, but if it did, it would probably read something like: “This is a story-driven rhythm game in which players control a young person in their dreams over the course of five nights. Players will attempt to hit buttons in time to the music and according to specific patterns in each stage. During the game the protagonist dreams of playing a video game where they shoot cartoon aliens.”

Colorblind Modes: The game has no colorblind modes.

Deaf & Hard of Hearing Gamers: Gameplay relies heavily on using audio cues, and in its default mode will gradually hide visual cues to further challenge the player. Assists are available in the accessibility menu to permanently enable visual timing cues, making the game playable for players that are deaf or hard of hearing. There is no voiced dialog in the game, and all text is rendered onscreen. This game is fully accessible (with the appropriate features turned on.)

Remappable Controls: This game’s button controls are not remappable.

The post Melatonin Review appeared first on Gamecritics.com.