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Plucky Squire is a charming and impressive piece of art that isn’t very fun to play

Plucky Squire is a charming and impressive piece of art that isn’t very fun to play

I don’t regret any of the nine hours I spent with The Plucky Squire, but one of my most anticipated indie games of the year turned out to be quite a slog… again.

This is quite a frustrating result after a September full of quite good AAA releases and several well-selling and good-looking indie titles that ended up disappointing me (the most notable cases being Wild Bastards and Caravan SandWitch). But perhaps I’ll be in the minority again, so I’m trying to explore why and how this little big adventure didn’t live up to my expectations.

After reviewing the basic technology and killer visual presentation, The Plucky Squire seemed like an easy win. It’s an homage to classic The Legend of Zelda games and 3D platformers, with a nice dash of fresher ideas straight from Little Big Planet. For the most part, the story successfully captures this kind of naive, uncomplicated energy, creating a story that, despite its meta elements, never strays too far into weird territory; this is a game I highly recommend to most people looking to play something small, especially younger gamers.

The fact that All Kolible Futures actually managed to combine both audiovisual elements – which come together to make a truly great game – and a traditional, if not quite, story only made the “game” harder to understand. His tricks, which usually allow the spunky main character to jump out of the pages of the book and interact with the story as a sort of afterlife god, just work and are put to good use… well, as long as you follow the path laid out before you. For a game that spends so much time rewriting history and literally thinking outside the box, it’s an incredibly limited experience.

Anything possible in the future would be useful, allowing you to stray a little more off the beaten path. | Image source: Digital Devolver

In terms of narrative, there’s more going on in this game than you might think. There are some really solid threads and rhythms here, and the themes are crystal clear but presented in a serious way compared to the cheap subversion that many artists would go for given the loopy basic premise. But these bold changes don’t translate to the game itself beyond the introduction of each new skill and mini-games, which are absolute highlights and make me wonder if The Plucky Squire wouldn’t be better as a smaller and more straightforward tribute game, a kind of standalone Astro Bot, not related to one brand.

For example, the promise that the titular Heir will be able to leave the book and interact with the world contained within its pages in unique ways teases a free-form adventure that encourages creative thinking more along the lines of an immersive simulator, despite the overarching structure of an action/adventure game platform. Of course, such an overall design would introduce a significant number of programming challenges that All Could Futures would likely struggle with. But that’s the kind of hidden promise found at the heart of the story and mechanics introduced after the first few minutes of the game.

Żok! | Image source: Digital Devolver

Instead, progressing through numerous enemy encounters, mazes, and puzzles throughout the levels only ever allows for one possible solution, and that solution is usually indicated by neon signs (not literally, but almost). If you thought that companion characters spouting out puzzle solutions after 10 seconds of inactivity in AAA games was counterproductive, you’ll probably hate the little wizard present on almost every page who gives you the least amount of guidance I’ve ever seen seen in a video game. Not only does Brave Heir keep everything too simple, contrary to the main premise, but it also actively wants you to stick to the script, which is the opposite of what the story wants to tell anyone who reaches the end credits.

Sure, the Brave Heir has to work with kids, too, but let’s face it: the vast majority of people drawn to this sort of nostalgia-inducing romp these days are adults who haven’t yet murdered their inner child. Even if a child is playing with it, there’s a good chance he or she can do it without the exaggerated handrails. I mean, they’re racking up Fortnite BR wins like it’s nothing. I don’t think there’s a need to dumb things down too much.

Brave rapid fire. | Image source: Digital Devolver

Since the developers apparently unconsciously felt uncomfortable with creating Zelda-like sections (actually most of the game) that weren’t limited to basic arenas, puzzles with more than three steps, or hubs filled with chores, it’s actually the 3D sections that have more fun for them. The controls are never precise enough, but short spins of Plucky Squire in the real world are easier because the game then feels noticeably more confident. But fuck these sections hiding on the fly. Please don’t do this.

And yet there’s plenty of fun and memorable antics to be found in The Plucky Squire: the mini-games (mostly related to boss fights) provide a nice change of pace, and the writing is completely concise and fun without being over the top. I’d say the journey picks up considerably in the second half, despite the above-mentioned issues.

The introductory game to All Kolible Futures may not be fully formed as a dimension-bending adventure that makes the most of the systems, mechanics, and verbatim text it’s built on, but count on me returning to Mojoland with lessons learned.