![]() The red, perilous jumps between what we may associate with lava in the security region of TET are enough to have the game get away with including an obligatory fire-themed stage. Looked at from a superficial level, the representing of these different components are handled well enough. ![]() For a large chunk of the brief run-time players are required to fix and bring back online four differing environments, of which are meant to symbolize the core components of the in-world computer system. In fact, the way the game handles progression is the second of Recompile‘s two core failings. Perhaps the spaciousness, the isolation amid the ruinous void of cyberspace is what the game is going for - a kind of digital Journey if you will - but the basic level design and vagueness of its core progression doesn’t do anywhere near enough to even warrant such a reaction. In fact, take away the visuals - the “artistic choice” to deprive players of visibility at times - and the experience would still feel relatively the same. The problem is that its desperate committing to both areas ends up stretching the game so thin its ideas are neither interesting nor complimentary to its supposed aesthetic of this “simulated” abstraction of a computer system. Sure there’s spots of jumping - all the while avoiding distant projectile fire from enemies - as there are abilities to discover that as a result open up new areas to traverse. Is this a fully-fledged Metroidvania where exploration is rewarded and return visits to previously-inaccessible “worlds” are not only warranted but satisfying to get past? Or is it a platformer that’s attempting to evoke the brightest of moments circa-late 90s/early 2000s when the introduction of three dimensions proved it could actually benefit the genre? The answer appears to be this awkward amalgamation where neither strength is utilized particularly well. And what we wind up with, sadly, is another case of a game not only shallow in its offering, but at its worst, completely frustrating to even warrant a full journey.īut the disappointing frustration of Recompile is two-fold: the first manifests through its unclear direction on what kind of game it wants to be. ![]() It’s more a case that Recompile feels like yet another example of the vision coming before the execution. It’s less a case that developer Phigames’ intentions are lost - obstructed by the plentiful darkness that is its internalized representation of digital space. Alongside those brief of spots where said route isn’t as clear as it once was - requiring good old-fashioned reorienting and deduction on what form of traversal will work and what won’t. Clear routes forward requiring more precise and considered sequences of moves to navigate its restricted plots of floating ground above a seeming deathly void. Sure these two inspirations may not be the most inventive of prospects, but whether it was its stark contrast of lighting or even the brow-raising mix of platforming, puzzle-solving atop occasional third-person shooting, you can’t knock Recompile for its hearkening to 3D platforming of yonder age. Secondly, the premise of visualizing the inside of an advanced, albeit broken, computer network where an initially-vague reason as to its malfunctioned state, is sought after. Firstly, its pitch on being a 3D Metroidvania is an easy attraction at a time when most releases are predominantly 2D (or 2.5D if you want to be a touch more charitable). What good is an eye-catching aesthetic if the surroundings aren’t even that enjoyable to traverse? Though it may not have surfaced much in written form over the past couple of years, I’ve had my eye on Recompile for a multitude of reasons. Sure it can bolster the appeal of a game and maybe even turn it into a genuinely unique experience - at least on the visual side of things - but not if that comes at the cost of disregarding how a game plays. Focusing strongly on a desired visual aesthetic can be a double-edged sword.
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