By all rights, Life is Strange shouldn’t exist. The studio of veteran developers fought tooth and nail for a female lead in their first game, only to be overshadowed – somewhat ironically – by the launch of The Last of Us a week later.
Nilin was engaging; her vehicle less so. Remember Me had beautiful art direction, an interesting premise (hacking digitised memories) and a grandiose, glitch-infused soundtrack, but was hampered by laughably sub-standard dialogue (“This Little Red Riding Hood has a basket full of kickass!” is a personal favourite) and a bastardised God Hand combo system lacking heft or meaningful variation. Ideas trumped execution, and it simply wasn’t fun to play.
Imagine my surprise, then, when DONTNOD announced their latest venture: an episodic adventure game with two female leads. The culturally enlightened among you might recognise that as a genre pretty much defined by writing and gameplay, and a gender currently prone to inspiring letter bombs as much as flame wars.
Again, their vision was commendable: this was no simple nod to internet battlegrounds, no headline grabbing reskin. The tantalising tale of teens and time travel could be everything proponents of equality continue to strive for: not tokenisation, but new viewpoints and ideas; a little corner of the human experience as yet untapped by games. Whether it was the French origins or the character design, you could Blue is the Warmest Colour me intrigued, but I didn’t truly believe it would work. If the game’s existence seemed unlikely, pulling an inventive, story-driven title out of the fire felt near impossible.
The story centres on Maxine “Max” Caulfield, an introverted art student returning to her old home town’s prestigious college. Envisioning an imminent disaster, she awakens to a life thrown into similar disarray, as the reappearance of an old friend enkindles her ability to rewind time. You’d almost be forgiven for thinking I was talking about The Longest Journey, though the comparison is flattering rather than accusatory. Life is Strange retains that game’s uncomfortable sense of powerlessness in the face of authority, even with your supernatural abilities, and borrows more than a few character traits, but it tells its own story assuredly.
If you only consider it an update of the format, it’s a more than capable one. The game retains the more open-ended nature of old adventure games, rewarding inquisitiveness and exploration. Almost every object and incidental character has an associated commentary, though this comes with its share of banal observations and awkwardly approaching characters in order to silently study them. Areas are more open than recent Telltale efforts like Game of Thrones, with a couple of seemingly minor choices that the end-slate informed me I missed entirely. The puzzles are a less welcome inheritance. There’s some fun to be had in finding a new clue, rewinding and watching your actions trigger each other Mouse Trap like, but they are excessively simple offerings, and contextually jarring.
The introduction is strikingly similar to TLJ, too: you begin in the midst of a nightmare and snap back into your banal reality, though what follows is less convincing. The opening art class dialogue feels natural enough, but is quickly dominated by character archetypes and dodgy slang. There’s a rich, prissy fashionista, bafflingly enabled in her use of the words “sad face”; the dreamy avant-garde lecturer; a deranged bully with powerful parents; and that cardinal sin, following an exclamation of technical jargon with the phrase “Wow, I’m such a nerd!”
It’s a pattern of frustrating inconsistency that continues throughout the game’s dialogue. At 22 and not living in Oregon, I may be entirely out of the loop, but I’m willing to stick my neck out and say that real people do not insert “hella” into every sentence, ask people if they’re “cereal,” or lock a friend in their own dorm room because they supposedly sexted your boyfriend. Terrible lip synching doesn't help, and while the voice acting is perfectly fine given some of the crap I’ve had to contend with, some might cringe at the contributions of minor characters.
If the Urban Dictionary inserts are jarring, it’s perhaps because the sights, sounds and certain conversations can have a genuine air of authenticity about them. Yes, there are tropes aplenty, but they lend a familiarity to proceedings that helps cement the world in a new medium. While films and TV have covered similar ground to better effect, only Persona comes to mind among modern games. Your blue-haired stoner friend might not be well-rounded, but she’s acceptably well realised. The characters and relationships are not inspired, but they’re believable enough not to ruin things.
Elsewhere, it’s the little touches which make for an amiable transition. When you exit the classroom at the start of the game, Max puts in her earbuds, and you roam the corridors to inoffensive indie rock. Text alerts ping up in reference to various decisions or diversions, and small talk is often suitably awkward, though that may be giving undue credit. Coming out of your shell and engaging with classmates and dorm residents is optional, but feels beneficial in the long run. At the very least, there aren’t many games where you can practice your guitar playing or lounge under a tree to no immediate gain.
The game’s central mechanic might be its strongest asset. The familiar dialogue options and split second, binary decision making of Telltale’s output are here, but the concept of the story allows you to revert to checkpoints each time a choice or event pops up, and decide which is the preferred path. Again it’s all very Telltale, right down to the ‘X will remember that’, and making it clear when an action will have consequences. Occasionally this is all but mandatory, as you learn the correct answers to questions and rewind to rectify your mistakes.
When it comes to the big decisions, there’s no immediate indication as to what’s best. I largely avoided going back and letting the alternate scenario play out, but when I finally did it took several minutes to weigh up the pros and cons. Life is Strange doesn’t always utilise it perfectly, but in theory it’s a brilliant contrivance, allowing you to replay embarrassing conversations and reassess those tricky snap judgements without having to reload an entire scene. The choices which resolved in this first episode were disappointingly predictable, but others seemed incidental – saving a bird, or erasing a whiteboard – setting up a more compelling, branching story in future instalments.
The episode’s title, 'Chrysalis', feels apt in a number of ways. There’s a definite feeling of greater things to come, and these sorts of scene-setting introductions are often a little underwhelming. But the bludgeoning lack of subtlety in the title extends to the game as a whole. It’s about as teen drama-y as a teen drama can get, and wears its many references on its sleeve: the character’s surname is ripped from Catcher in the Rye; cult authors, movies and Square Enix titles are name-dropped with merciless efficiency; and others have noted similarities to Donnie Darko, along with a bizarre preponderance for X Files references. What redeems Life is Strange's first episode is that this also extends to its colour, charm and earnestness. It is fun, for all its foibles, while retaining the best aspects of the developer’s previous effort; an entertaining adventure in its best and worst moments. To me, that’s the difference between a middling game and a great one.
Up to date? You can find Alex's Episode 2 review here!
“Entertaining”