[[{“value”:”
Duskfade passed by last month without too much notice. To the extent that it gained attention, it was for its Nomura-like character design that appeared to be aping Kingdom Hearts. And while that isn’t inaccurate, it also feels like an unfair simplification. Duskfade is very little like Kingdom Hearts, more reminiscent of a PS3-era action-platformer than an action-RPG. Its gameplay is composed mostly of really satisfying platforming with occasional, merely so-so combat encounters. But what really resonated with me most was its story, which for all of its storybook-like simplicity, had impactful moments that utilized boss fights like nothing else I’ve seen.
Spoilers follow.
Duskfade takes place in a fantasy world where Clockmakers are essentially steampunk wizards. You play as Zirian, the young hero on a quest to find his big sister, Allira. After your grandfather, the master clockmaker Gramps, became ill and close to death, Allira locked herself in her workshop to build some mysterious contraption, but things went wrong and a massive explosion plunged the city into eternal dusk. As you look for her, you come across Cuckoo, a mechanical bird that’s tied to Allira’s memories, as well as Despair, the antagonist of the game.
As you progress through the game, you see Allira’s memories manifest through Cuckoo’s eyes, detailing the loss and pain she felt at losing her grandfather and mentor. This all leads to the expected but powerful reveal that Despair is Allira, twisted by her own grief and obsessed with turning back time to when Gramps was alive.
This reveal is treated like a twist, but honestly, it barely is one. The writing telegraphs it fairly obviously, so any adult (and honestly, many kids) would see it coming a mile away. But this actually works in its favor. Knowing or at least strongly suspecting this reveal throughout most of the game means you notice the care that goes into the little touches, especially the way that the themes of loss are weaved into unexpected places.
To that end, the boss designs themselves become avenues for storytelling. Many of the boss encounters are named after feelings, and each of them are clockwork automatons that you come to realize are manifestations of the different emotions Allira was feeling when her grandfather passed. This is present not just in their dialogue but the encounter design itself. Wrath is a furiously quick boss that requires lots of dodging. Solitude has bird-like wings, allowing it to constantly get distance from you and requiring you to chase it down. There’s an extra layer of resonance to each one.
The one that stuck with me most was Guilt. This automaton is tragic like the rest, but on another level. In the pre-fight cutscene, it’s seen compulsively hitting itself on the head. It constantly alternates between lashing out with chains and spinning out of control. It withdraws into itself. And all throughout it keeps repeating, sometimes in half-broken glitches, a haunting mantra: “All the time in the world.”
It’s only after defeating Guilt that you see Allira’s memories that manifested it. Allira was so afraid of losing her grandfather that she locked herself in her workshop and neglected to spend time with him in his last days. Just as she was telling Zirian that her project would give them “all the time in the world,” he delivered the news that it was too late. Gramps had passed away, and Allira hadn’t been there.
It’s a powerful emotional moment that stuck with me as I made my way through the rest of the game, and has stayed with me since finishing it.
I think a lot about how stories can help express emotionally complex or difficult subjects to children. A lot of my favorite books to read to my own kids gently touch on hard lessons. I have a soft spot for these kinds of stories: the simple ones that convey powerful pieces of wisdom before a child is even fully aware they’re absorbing it. Somewhere in their young minds, you’re planting the seeds for empathy and emotional maturity to grow.
That’s what struck me while playing through Duskfade. It’s doing something special with its story, by broaching complex emotional moments with care. That makes it feel important. It may not make any Game of the Year lists–its combat is merely fine, and its character designs are a bit derivative. But the story and those moments will stick with me, and I bet it will stick with a lot of kids–even some who don’t quite understand it yet.
“}]]
[[{“value”:”Duskfade passed by last month without too much notice. To the extent that it gained attention, it was for its Nomura-like character design that appeared to be aping Kingdom Hearts. And while that isn’t inaccurate, it also feels like an unfair simplification. Duskfade is very little like Kingdom Hearts, more reminiscent of a PS3-era action-platformer than an action-RPG. Its gameplay is composed mostly of really satisfying platforming with occasional, merely so-so combat encounters. But what really resonated with me most was its story, which for all of its storybook-like simplicity, had impactful moments that utilized boss fights like nothing else I’ve seen.
Spoilers follow.
Duskfade takes place in a fantasy world where Clockmakers are essentially steampunk wizards. You play as Zirian, the young hero on a quest to find his big sister, Allira. After your grandfather, the master clockmaker Gramps, became ill and close to death, Allira locked herself in her workshop to build some mysterious contraption, but things went wrong and a massive explosion plunged the city into eternal dusk. As you look for her, you come across Cuckoo, a mechanical bird that’s tied to Allira’s memories, as well as Despair, the antagonist of the game.
As you progress through the game, you see Allira’s memories manifest through Cuckoo’s eyes, detailing the loss and pain she felt at losing her grandfather and mentor. This all leads to the expected but powerful reveal that Despair is Allira, twisted by her own grief and obsessed with turning back time to when Gramps was alive.
Duskfade
This reveal is treated like a twist, but honestly, it barely is one. The writing telegraphs it fairly obviously, so any adult (and honestly, many kids) would see it coming a mile away. But this actually works in its favor. Knowing or at least strongly suspecting this reveal throughout most of the game means you notice the care that goes into the little touches, especially the way that the themes of loss are weaved into unexpected places.
To that end, the boss designs themselves become avenues for storytelling. Many of the boss encounters are named after feelings, and each of them are clockwork automatons that you come to realize are manifestations of the different emotions Allira was feeling when her grandfather passed. This is present not just in their dialogue but the encounter design itself. Wrath is a furiously quick boss that requires lots of dodging. Solitude has bird-like wings, allowing it to constantly get distance from you and requiring you to chase it down. There’s an extra layer of resonance to each one.
The one that stuck with me most was Guilt. This automaton is tragic like the rest, but on another level. In the pre-fight cutscene, it’s seen compulsively hitting itself on the head. It constantly alternates between lashing out with chains and spinning out of control. It withdraws into itself. And all throughout it keeps repeating, sometimes in half-broken glitches, a haunting mantra: “All the time in the world.”
It’s only after defeating Guilt that you see Allira’s memories that manifested it. Allira was so afraid of losing her grandfather that she locked herself in her workshop and neglected to spend time with him in his last days. Just as she was telling Zirian that her project would give them “all the time in the world,” he delivered the news that it was too late. Gramps had passed away, and Allira hadn’t been there.
It’s a powerful emotional moment that stuck with me as I made my way through the rest of the game, and has stayed with me since finishing it.
I think a lot about how stories can help express emotionally complex or difficult subjects to children. A lot of my favorite books to read to my own kids gently touch on hard lessons. I have a soft spot for these kinds of stories: the simple ones that convey powerful pieces of wisdom before a child is even fully aware they’re absorbing it. Somewhere in their young minds, you’re planting the seeds for empathy and emotional maturity to grow.
That’s what struck me while playing through Duskfade. It’s doing something special with its story, by broaching complex emotional moments with care. That makes it feel important. It may not make any Game of the Year lists–its combat is merely fine, and its character designs are a bit derivative. But the story and those moments will stick with me, and I bet it will stick with a lot of kids–even some who don’t quite understand it yet.”}]] Read More GameSpot – All Content
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