Alas, I am sad to report that I still do not likeNightingale.
And that’s a hard no from me, chief.
Nightingale’s setup is, initially, quite compelling.
Off the bat you meet Puck, a floating lad with a mask who speaks in teapot English.
The fun Victorian gear you started off with?
Puck wants you to make a campfire, pick up some rocks, and outfit yourself like a caveman.
Eventually, the rhythm of the game establishes itself.
Except the vomit here is lumber and the gullets are sawmills.
Perhaps Nightingale’s greatest crime is how it divorces discovery from exploration.
There’s a sense you’re shaping the landscape into a series of stepping stones.
No matter where you are - desert, forest, swamp - the activities remain largely the same.
There are small parkour puzzles where you awkwardly mantle up to an Essence paycheck.
“Occupations”, where you batter enemies who awkwardly spawn into small caverns or huts.
The robot is basically the same every time.
Skyboxes react in novel ways, too, glistening with fractures or turning deep crimson.
Fighting your way to the top isn’t great, at least early to mid game.
Everything, like your benches and whatnot are all organised into separate drop down menus.
The endless lists speak to a bigger issue, which is the game’sobsessionwith materials.
Clutter is kept to a minimum because you’re bettering foundations.
Not everything about building is agony, though.
In a way, it does show that Nightingale’s happy to operate as a perfectly doable solo experience.
Unless things change dramatically, I think I’ll pass on reaching Nightingale.
This review is based on a retail build of the game, provided by developers Inflexion Games.
