![]() ![]() ![]() Learning new moves is often the key to accessing new areas – you learn a leaping uppercut that gives you more air than a regular jump so you can reach higher platforms, or a ground pound attack that can smash through wonky floors. They’re never static nothing stays the same long enough to get stale. But the stages are linear, enclosed and small enough to get from one end to the other without due concern. It flirts with metroidvaniaism, making you backtrack because you’ve discovered a new key or a new ability that lets you circumvent a previously unpassable object. You will spend time wandering around, hoping to stumble across the Techno Algorithm Hall or The Stable of the Servo Horse because you’ve found a digital key with that name on it, and have some memory of a previously bypassed pixel priest mentioning it briefly within several paragraphs of technobabble. It’s not an invitation to get lost within the chaos it’s a promise. In order to avoid that, it props everything up with even more things pseudo-religious undertones that mimic Shinto and tie in with the relaxed flashbacks of the creator’s memories of growing up in the Japanese providence of Narita, juxtaposed against high concept 16bit violence and CRT monitor grain overlays. It’s a lot of things at once, and there’s always the concern that this top heavy atmosphere is going to topple over at any second. A style-heavy combat-slinging platformer drowning in 80’s kitsch and Tron-tinted neon that asks you to battle through the personified innards of a prototypic console in order to unlock the stolen memories of its creator.
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