As video game reviewers we have all been guilty of one major sin: expecting the exponential. Each new game in a genre is anticipated as a vast improvement on previous titles, iterating on their ideas and growing to an unimaginable size – but unimaginable also means unmanageable, with developers pushing themselves to create bigger and better experiences every time.
Why can’t we as consumers just enjoy games for what they are instead of as another step up from their predecessors? My experience with Duskfade was refreshing for this very reason – a game that simply exists as an action-adventure, nothing more and nothing less; instead of trying to wedge in endless gimmicks or transform combat into some form of never-before-seen experience, I am pleased to say that the game simply tasks players with having a good time.
Set in a world where very few humans remain, you are Zirian – a plucky young adventurer who ends up needing to save the world (as one often does) but most importantly wishes to save his sister from within the enormous clocktower that has rooted itself to different points throughout the realm. In its earliest moments, the game succinctly tells you what needs doing and gives you the motivation to do it, setting you off on a jaunt throughout the various biomes to destroy the chains sealing the clocktower and end the eternal night. Easy peasy.
The game manages to cram plenty of story into its world without being too heavy handed on the exposition, trusting you to learn about the cloudies, the clockmakers and the memories of the people left behind without dragging you through endless cutscenes – it also helps that Zirian is accompanied by a mysterious clockwork bird called Cuckoo who not only acts as a passive pal in combat, but also gives Zirian someone to speak to, keeping the player abreast of his thoughts without needing to explain them – sadly he can also be slow on the uptake, especially when talking to the game’s main antagonist.
At its heart, Duskfade is an action-adventure with a fairly simple set of combat rules. Much like Moss there isn’t too much to the core combat outside of swinging your sword, dodging away from attacks and deflecting projectiles, but the nuance lies in the abilities you gain as you progress and how you utilise them – once again it’s worth adding that Cuckoo isn’t just a floating exposition device, they also have a palpable impact on combat, providing support and adding passive damage to your arsenal.
Enemies tend to be loosely themed around the area you are in, but there is a steady evolution as you move forward – small swarms of easy-to-squash foes tend to give you bother in the earlier stages, but over time there are bigger and more varied threats, requiring more than just swinging a sword around; thankfully attacks are well telegraphed and can be dodged with near-perfect timing to give you openings for retaliation, much like Arkham Asylum but with a dopey kid wielding a clock hand instead of Batman.
Combat isn’t all that the game asks of you though, as there are some light puzzle elements to the game and exploration is strongly encouraged if you want to find secrets, currency and upgrades, but its main strength lies in its platforming; the world is full of treacherous gaps to jump across, hazards to avoid and a sprawling sense of verticality in some areas, meaning you don’t have to look far to find a secret or two – there are bells dotted around to point you on the right direction for the story, but they are also handy for knowing which route to take last as you jump between ledges.
As you progress, the platforming steadily grows more difficult but never reaches a point where you feel completely unable to move forward – with a long jump, double jump and a dive jump all available from the outset, you can move very freely in each level to a degree that almost rivals Bubsy 4D (or Demon Turf if you would rather never have to think about that orange fuzzy failure of a mascot again). This, combined with environmental features that vary by area, including the gears of the Clockmakers’ realm or the exploding flowers of the abandoned town, means you never run out of new ways to engage with the game’s movement mechanics.
In spite of a solid foundation of combat and motion, the game does still fall foul of a few common issues in the genre. Most notable is that although combat can be quite varied, it usually doesn’t take place anywhere other than an arena-shaped area – as you traverse the world, it’s not difficult to spot when a fight is coming up, as you’ll suddenly be heading towards a flat space that may be dotted with the odd environmental hazard. Duskfade does well to try and keep this varied with these hazards, but there doesn’t tend to be much variety to the actual combat areas as you progress.
Aside from combat, the upgrade system doesn’t allow for much variety in your playstyle – each upgrade will cost a certain amount of currency or may require special upgrade gear to unlock, but these also remain locked until certain progress milestones, meaning you will mostly end up unlocking them in the same order and ultimately end up with the same Zirian as everybody else. This isn’t too harsh a criticism given it is an action adventure rather than an RPG, but some variety would still be very welcome.
Ultimately it’s hard to pick many faults with the game. The writing is well executed and at times can be very witty, the world is well structured and gives players freedom to explore as they please without pulling them too far away from the critical path, and no matter how hard you try and avoid admitting it, Cuckoo is a delightful companion to have for the journey, making sure that Zirian doesn’t falter on his adventure. Combined with music that manages to be subtly brilliant without taking away from the game itself, Duskfade is an astonishing example of a game that doesn’t try to be better but succeeds in being great.
