Once in a while, a renowned series from the past makes a welcome return after years in hiding. In their day, Syberia 1 and 2 were regarded as distinguished point-and-click adventure games that captured both mysticism and mystery, but 13 years later, most of that has been lost in Syberia 3. Although the threads that weave this series together return, its delivery is wholly underwhelming. Dialogue feels disconnected and the important moments lack impact, resulting in a story-centric game that rings hollow.
You play as series protagonist Kate Walker, an adventurous ex-lawyer from New York who ended up in Eastern Europe after helping one Hans Voralberg fulfill his dream: to ride the once-mythical mammoths on the island of Syberia. She leaves the island and is found by the Youkol tribe nearly frozen to death, and this is where Syberia 3 begins. Having been saved by the Youkol, Kate is compelled to help them overcome the roadblocks along their sacred migration across the Eurasian landmass. Many pieces of the previous game remain--the robotic Automatons built by the Voralberg family, Kate's vehement departure from home, and the aforementioned Youkol, a spiritual indigenous Asian tribe.
Set in fictional locations across Russia and the Eurasian landmass, Syberia 3 illustrates a quaint port village named Valsembor that's sprinkled with light snow. The charming town has a cozy tavern where the locals gather, and it feels like a place I'd want to spend a late afternoon. The game also takes you through the abandoned and rusted theme park in Baranour, where you can see remnants of a place that once fostered fun and imagination. It was tragically destroyed by nuclear fallout, and radiation still blocks off parts of the park, but once you get the power back on, a flicker of hope seeps through as your Youkol companions enjoy the salvaged rides for a brief moment.
As Kate, you complete objectives that consist of locating an item needed to solve a puzzle or speaking to someone who has information that's needed to move on. Syberia 3 moves away from the point-and-click controls of the past, and you're now in direct control of her. There aren't any fail-states or action sequences that ratchet up tension; that's fine, but the solutions to your goals are only mildly interesting obstacles that never really tap into or build upon your knowledge. Many of these moments rely on arbitrarily placed objects that either require a sharp eye or just blind luck to find. One genuinely clever puzzle forces you to finagle with the accelerometer of a broken-down roller coaster and figure out how to get the car to stop at a the entrance of a secret passageway. The necessary information can be derived from a paper clue nearby, but you need two metal poles to do the job. However, one is haphazardly placed under a bench within the expansive amusement park. So, even the better gameplay moments of the game are held back by curious design decisions.
Another scene requires you to find flares to fend off an attacker at sea, but the flares are placed under a bench in your ship that's only visible if you enter the room from a specific angle. You may come across this item within minutes, or just as likely scramble for much longer. Regardless, player skill or cunning is not in the solution's equation. Important items are sometimes indistinguishable in the environment, a problem compounded by the game's semi-fixed camera angles and sluggish movement. Simple actions, such as changing direction and getting Kate into position, can be downright frustrating.
When you're not pitted with obtuse puzzles, you're speaking with other characters who can assist you along the journey. You're given Telltale-style speech options to either alter Kate's conversational tone or dig up more backstory, but these often result in a slightly altered scene afterward or further down the road. You also have the ability to hear her thoughts during heated conversations, but it's simply meaningless exposition that tries to justify any of the presented options. There's always only one specific solution to objectives, devoid of any player agency.
For a game that relies so heavily on character interaction and dialogue to tell its story, Syberia 3 falls well short of making good on its approach. A large majority of dialogue sequences feature close-up views of the characters, which makes the overtly out-of-sync lip movement far too jarring to ignore. More often than not, the poor voice acting detracts from the characters' presence and authenticity. Lines are delivered in the most inconsequential tones and out-of-context manner, reaching territory that'd have Siri or Alexa seem organic. For example, one supporting character speaks in run-on sentences, not even pausing to take a breath or express emotion for her ailing grandfather. That elderly man sounds as if he's voiced by someone 50 years younger. Meanwhile, Kate's original voice actress makes a return, but rarely do her lines ever match the gravity of the events that surround her. There isn't a natural pace to the speech, and many of the phrases and words sound like they've been lost in translation, sometimes bordering on nonsensical. Kate is constantly referred to as the American interfering with the issues at hand, but no one--other than the Youkol--seems to have any accents to match the game's setting. This relentless dissonance in tone and delivery permeates the entire game.
A returning companion and the captain of the Krystal ship are a few faint highlights, characters with more complex backstories and important roles. However, Syberia 3's antagonists are as cliche and faceless as they come. An evil doctor (who is constantly and nauseatingly called by her full name) and an eye-patched military commander make for the most hamfisted and cheesy villainous duo in recent memory. Without any semblance of purpose or motivation, they want the Youkol to modernize and integrate with modern society.
Rather than playing a vital complementary role in the Youkol's journey, Kate is essentially their lone savior. Without her direct help, the Youkol tend to helplessly flounder about and sit idly by while she solves all their problems. The problem with this doesn't rest solely on some fictional Western savior complex, but also in the fact that the Youkol people never really develop as characters or become a bigger part of their own story. A late-game reveal adds a layer of depth to Youkol history, but it's first introduced in a throwaway line. The meat of this lore is relegated to a book in your inventory, which gives the time and place of your actions relevance. It's a significant tragedy that contextualizes a political struggle, but again, it's held back by clumsy presentation.
Amidst the grating dialogue and off-putting character animations is an atmosphere worthy of a better game and better-delivered story. Renowned composer Inon Zur (whose background includes the 3D Fallout games, Dragon Age series, and even Syberia 2) delivers incredibly rich and memorable music. The beating percussion uplifts a sharp orchestra that exudes infectious melodies and harmonies, driving home the feeling of charting unknown territory in remote parts of Eastern Europe. I even found myself unconsciously humming these songs outside of the game. The great music coincides with a cold and grim, yet captivating atmosphere, creating a world that should be lived in.
And that's the overall feeling with Syberia 3. Slivers of enjoyment and potential are found within a disconnected and underwhelming journey. The characters, their interactions, the way they speak, and the reason they even exist all mash into a puzzle-adventure game devoid of significance or impact. The Syberia series deserved a better return, otherwise, it should've been left in the past.
From its opening moments, Little Nightmares' haunting aesthetic pulls you into its world of existential conundrums. It enthralls you with its eerie atmosphere and makes your heart pound with tense cat-and-mouse style chases. But the curtains close on this psychological puzzle-platformer far too soon, and for better or worse, it leaves you craving more.
Little Nightmares uses its time efficiently to deliver a poignant look at the consequences of sacrificing innocence and its ensuing madness. You follow the journey of Six, a nine-year-old girl trapped in The Maw--an underwater resort filled with monstrous, disfigured inhabitants that tower over her. The background details are never explicitly explained, but it's clear from the beginning that you must escape.
That vagueness continues throughout the game's short runtime, inspiring you to keep pushing forward in search of answers, as you observe vague narrative details in the places you visit. How did Six get trapped in the Maw? What is the Maw's purpose? And who is Six, exactly? These questions persist until the game's thought-provoking conclusion, and they're likely to remain with you after the fact. This lasting ambiguity drives an enticing narrative that keeps you engaged even if the answers it provides aren't entirely clear.
The answers you do discover can be found in the unsettling macabre imagery you encounter. There are many stories to decipher and interpret from the derelict, poorly lit rooms and corridors of the Maw--in fact, it's only a few minutes in that you find the hung corpse of a large man swaying back and forth from the noose that took him. Such sights are commonplace, each effectively reminding you in various disturbing ways of the world's cold, morbid state. The varied environments that serve as the backdrop of your adventure also keep you uneasy; your relative sense of scale is ever-changing, and the frequent, shifting Dutch angles that frame your viewpoint distort your perception of the world. The sound design is just as stirring as the visuals, from the creaking floorboards to the dissonant ambience that fill the Maw's vacant underground chambers. The game's presentation engenders a deep sense of foreboding that makes each moment you spend in it all the more chilling.
In light of Little Nightmares' presentation, the juxtaposition between its cartoonish qualities and the dark mood that permeates its world is striking and distinctive. Its childlike perspective counterbalances its horror. This is reflected in the puerile ways you navigate and interact with the world: you pull up chairs to reach doorknobs, throw a cymbal-banging monkey toy at a button to trigger an elevator, and hug small critters wearing cone-shaped hats to prove your good intentions. This juvenile style of exploration and contact imbues the game with an underlying innocence. As a result, you always feel like there's a sliver of hope, even if it seems like it's continually in jeopardy against the grisly realities you must face.
You're not alone in this world surrounded by iniquity; there are several deformed creatures that stand in your path towards freedom. Those that inhabit the Maw fuel some of the game's most harrowing moments. The blind underground caretaker known as the "Janitor" has long, slender arms that heavily juxtapose his thick frame, while the chef twins are hulking, grotesque creatures that wear the skins of other people's faces as masks. To evade their clutches, you must sneak past them and solve basic puzzles under their noses, like finding a crank to open up a nearby hatch. You also navigate the occasional platforming section during the inevitable moment they spot you and give chase. The moments you spend hiding or running for your life are some of the most thrilling and tense that Little Nightmares has to offer. The suspense is further heightened by how small in size you are compared to them; it feels like the odds are always stacked against you. As a result, every successful escape seems like a fluke, which makes each encounter feel just as riveting as the last. That isn't to say you won't fail a fair number of times. Luckily, the game's run-ins with trial-and-error never overtly punish you, and it usually only takes a couple attempts to overcome even its most challenging sequences.
The adrenaline-fueled chases you have with the game's gruesome enemies are exhilarating, but the moments in between spent platforming and solving puzzles are often too brief and straightforward. Most times you're simply climbing up containers to reach a vent or acquiring a key to open up a path ahead. These rudimentary tasks, while utilized well during chase sequences to create tension and panic, aren't memorable on their own and serve as little more than busywork. Their facile nature keep things moving, aiding in the tight pacing of the adventure. But they're not as fleshed out as they could be, making your efforts to push forward in these sections feel superficial and hurried, especially when compared to your daring escapes from the Maw's inhabitants.
It's likely you'll finish Little Nightmares in one or two sittings; its brief length may diminish the spark of its highs, making you wish there was more to prolong the time it takes to overcome its tense set pieces. But regardless of how you view the time you spend with the game, its strange and distorted world is enough to pull you back in for a second playthrough. The journey to reach its provocative conclusion is filled with unnerving questions and imagery that take hold of your morbid curiosities and pull you deep into introspection. While its puzzles are at times too straightforward, Little Nightmares is a chilling odyssey well worth taking.
The New Frontier season of Telltale's The Walking Dead is wrapping up the way that it began, with more Garcia family strife than zombie action in the penultimate episode. Thicker Than Water plays up the soap-opera dynamics that have long been as big a part of the franchise as the brain-munching gore, making for a more satisfying episode than its snoozy predecessor. Fireworks explode in the relationship between leading man Javier Garcia and his brother David, who finally figures out that his estranged wife Kate might just have feelings for her brother-in-law. Tensions bring Richmond to the edge of a full-blown revolt. And a cliffhanger conclusion sets everything up for an intense finale when the last episode of the season arrives later this spring.
Still, A New Frontier continues to play out in a more formulaic fashion than other seasons of Telltale's take on The Walking Dead. Thicker Than Water follows the same path of the preceding episodes, opening up with a blast from the past featuring yet another vignette starring the dysfunctional Garcia family. This time, the introductory flashback relives an afternoon with Javy and David at an amusement park's batting cages. It's hard to say what this scene is even supposed to accomplish: While past flashbacks took us to key moments like the Garcias experiencing the onset of the zombie apocalypse, this one tells us yet again that Javy and David hate each other and that David isn't getting along with his wife. We get some new information here about David planning to re-enlist with the army and leave Kate and the kids, but other than that, this kind of second-verse, same-as-the-first moment seems unnecessary.
The overall plot is also fairly predictable, but at least A New Frontier's narrative is finally chugging forward again after Episode Three put on the brakes. Here, secrets burst out of the closet at a steady pace, unraveling the uneasy alliances that have been central to the season. The episode features some real "duh" moments, but the dialogue and voice acting are handled so well that you can't help but go along for the ride. And as usual with Telltale games, the episode includes some key moments where your choices can make the story go in various directions and leave different corpses on the floor. But here, it seems only right that Javy winds up with Kate, which makes the story feel a touch predetermined.
Action is also once again in short supply. Although Thicker Than Water offers some intriguing conversational choices, their impact is somewhat muted through most of the game--reactions are mostly limited to "so-and-so will remember that" alerts. Selections only become truly meaningful toward the conclusion, when you're presented with life-or-death scenarios that up the stakes. One moment, you're talking to Clementine about the challenges of puberty. The next, you're deciding who lives and who dies during a makeshift execution. It all sounds somewhat ludicrous spelled out like that, but these varying situations seem like a realistic look at how much everything would change--from mundane moments with maxi pads to insane situations where you're asked to decide who gets shot in the head--after the collapse of civilization.
Yet even without much action, you're on the edge of your seat through the entire second half of the episode. Things go from bad to worse in Richmond really fast. Establishing a mood of utter dread--even when things seem to be going well--is one of the things that Telltale always does extremely well, and this dramatic touch is on display through the final showdown with Joan's Richmond junta. A feeling of despair is also present courtesy of an incredibly bleak scene with Dr. Lingard that contrasts perfectly with Clementine's desire to keep fighting for life in this apocalyptic wasteland.
Some interaction opportunities aren't fully taken advantage of, though. When Javy and David are taking their cuts at the batting cages, there's no way to actually hit a ball. All you can do is select whether to swing and miss to make David feel better or crush the ball and mock him for not being much of an athlete. And later on, when Javy has to hotwire a truck, all you do is push buttons to strip and connect the wires. Stripped of any real challenge, this is a forgettable "click-click-vroom" sequence with no dramatic tension.
Walkers barely make an appearance here. They're an ominous presence throughout the episode, as a horde has surrounded Richmond and made it impossible for anyone to leave the walled settlement. But aside from a brief combat sequence and zombie hands reaching eerily through a broken wooden fence, the undead are mostly missing in action.
Thicker Than Water continues to move things toward what will inevitably be a bloody conclusion in the next episode. This New Frontier season has been a little on the formulaic, predictable side and somewhat lacking when it comes to interactivity and zombie-biting action. In some ways, the episodic structure of this season has proven to be something of a drawback, as the slower sections would likely not have seemed so pronounced as part of a single eight- or nine-hour game. But the superb quality of the scripting and acting continues to deliver the dread and despair that have become Walking Dead staples, making it hard to wait and see what happens to Javy and friends in the next episode.
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