Pyre is a game inherently at odds with itself: a frenetic sportsball game tucked away inside the pages of an increasingly tedious visual novel, accented with all the style you've come to expect from Supergiant. Characters and environments are gorgeous, the soundtrack is fantastic, and there are so many little details that make it clear the developers cared tremendously about the project. It's a shame, then, that all that Supergiant flair can't save the game from the inherent contradictions slowly ripping it apart. Minor-to-Major spoilers follow.
First and foremost, Pyre is a visual novel. It throws pages upon pages of text at you as you ride, sail, or fly from one otherworldly landmark to the next, giving you dozens of opportunities to interact with your ragtag, incredibly aesthetic band of exiles along the way.
But captivating design alone does not a compelling character make. As vibrant as the cast is appears, the writing behind their sprites hews closely to well-established archetypes. Jodariel is a gruff soldier with a soft side and a heart of gold, Hedwyn is lovestruck and loyal to a fault; Rukey is conniving and sly but ultimately well-intentioned. Though their crimes and motives aren't revealed until later in the game, you can guess what they'll be the moment you meet them. Only two character moments really surprised me: Bertrude's unrequited love for Volfred and Jodariel's decision to date Ignarius in her "good" ending.
That anyone's character arc can be terminated prematurely based on when they're liberated makes it that much harder to immerse yourself in their less-than-groundbreaking stories. Free Pamitha before the Essence makes it to the Fall of Soliam and you'll have no one urging you to throw the game for them. Free [Sh]ae before she faces the Fate and she'll never form a connection with Almer. On the one hand, I appreciate Supergiant's commitment to a dramatically open-ended narrative. On the other hand, it really only works to leave you unsatisfied.
The fact that this story centers on a game of fantasy football compounds the issue: with each passing Rite, it becomes that much harder to take the premise seriously. No, I'm sorry, but dunking on the same group of bad dogs, cowardly snakes, or angry birds doesn't suddenly become a meditation on mercy and camaraderie just because some boring book says it is. Early on, there are attempts to repurpose the Rite gameplay for other story beats: fending off a pack of Howlers, cutting through the Tempest, or dueling Tamitha one-on-one, but these moments become fewer and fewer as the game drags on. You're left to read, ride, and rite as each segment becomes ever more repetitive.
The world, too, fades further into the background after you first ascend Mount Alodiel. Instead of a harrowing, dangerous journey across the Downside, you simply fly over everything on the magical wings your wagon always had, actually. The terrain, once an imposing, antagonistic force, is reduced to a colorful backdrop. The arenas remain the same the entire game as well, precluding any opportunity to have the land visibly change as the Stars fade.
Rather than synthesize its disparate premises, Pyre instead becomes a jumble of increasingly discordant elements: the rites distract further from the story as the story distracts further from the rites, the early novelty long since worn off. In the end, the last handful of encounters blur together rather than build up to a grand climax. For all its ambition, Pyre fails to follow through.
VideoGame Space Jam + Visual Novel = ???
Pyre is a game inherently at odds with itself: a frenetic sportsball game tucked away inside the pages of an increasingly tedious visual novel, accented with all the style you've come to expect from Supergiant. Characters and environments are gorgeous, the soundtrack is fantastic, and there are so many little details that make it clear the developers cared tremendously about the project. It's a shame, then, that all that Supergiant flair can't save the game from the inherent contradictions slowly ripping it apart. Minor-to-Major spoilers follow.
First and foremost, Pyre is a visual novel. It throws pages upon pages of text at you as you ride, sail, or fly from one otherworldly landmark to the next, giving you dozens of opportunities to interact with your ragtag, incredibly aesthetic band of exiles along the way.
But captivating design alone does not a compelling character make. As vibrant as the cast is appears, the writing behind their sprites hews closely to well-established archetypes. Jodariel is a gruff soldier with a soft side and a heart of gold, Hedwyn is lovestruck and loyal to a fault; Rukey is conniving and sly but ultimately well-intentioned. Though their crimes and motives aren't revealed until later in the game, you can guess what they'll be the moment you meet them. Only two character moments really surprised me: Bertrude's unrequited love for Volfred and Jodariel's decision to date Ignarius in her "good" ending.
That anyone's character arc can be terminated prematurely based on when they're liberated makes it that much harder to immerse yourself in their less-than-groundbreaking stories. Free Pamitha before the Essence makes it to the Fall of Soliam and you'll have no one urging you to throw the game for them. Free [Sh]ae before she faces the Fate and she'll never form a connection with Almer. On the one hand, I appreciate Supergiant's commitment to a dramatically open-ended narrative. On the other hand, it really only works to leave you unsatisfied.
The fact that this story centers on a game of fantasy football compounds the issue: with each passing Rite, it becomes that much harder to take the premise seriously. No, I'm sorry, but dunking on the same group of bad dogs, cowardly snakes, or angry birds doesn't suddenly become a meditation on mercy and camaraderie just because some boring book says it is. Early on, there are attempts to repurpose the Rite gameplay for other story beats: fending off a pack of Howlers, cutting through the Tempest, or dueling Tamitha one-on-one, but these moments become fewer and fewer as the game drags on. You're left to read, ride, and rite as each segment becomes ever more repetitive.
The world, too, fades further into the background after you first ascend Mount Alodiel. Instead of a harrowing, dangerous journey across the Downside, you simply fly over everything on the magical wings your wagon always had, actually. The terrain, once an imposing, antagonistic force, is reduced to a colorful backdrop. The arenas remain the same the entire game as well, precluding any opportunity to have the land visibly change as the Stars fade.
Rather than synthesize its disparate premises, Pyre instead becomes a jumble of increasingly discordant elements: the rites distract further from the story as the story distracts further from the rites, the early novelty long since worn off. In the end, the last handful of encounters blur together rather than build up to a grand climax. For all its ambition, Pyre fails to follow through.