You play Hazel, a track runner of the US south.
A hurricane is coming and she’s packing up her family’s belongings to escape.
It’s a game of glamorous good looks.
Humans with deep, expressive faces and fanciful costumes meet giant catfish with ornate whiskers and glittering eyeballs.
But even putting that visual gimmick aside, it’s still an often stunning thing to look at.
It’s also sonically off the charts.
You might sense a “but” coming.
The sights and sounds, and its stylish sense of magic, are enough to recommend it.
“you might squeeze into small spaces I can’t!”
she exclaims when meeting a small companion who will become a usable skill.
It’s as if Hazel is a player too, and has access to the game design document.
Combat can also feel a little stiff.
I have other fighty nitpicks.
And this is all housed within a repetitive structure that reoccurs every chapter.
For me, its repeating hazards and patterns of storytelling started to feel overworked by the halfway point.
That’s a lot of my curmudgeonly muttering out of the way.
Hazel is simply a decent human.
She is mouthy yet refreshingly non-judgmental.
Her warmth extends even to people who’ve done awful things.
There’s something comforting about controlling a person this open-hearted.
Granted, sometimes that empathic tale and the game’s platformy action feel at odds.
Again, that feels like the result of the action adventure format.
I complained earlier that the game sometimes lacks trust.
But in the storytelling, at least, there is some faith in the player.
Crows are constantly used as feathery signposts to show you the right direction.
