There's a misplaced perception that 'artsy' games are disingenuous: a psychological manipulation of color, sound, and motif engineered to make players feel something. Some are undoubtedly too heavy-handed - their narrative brush strokes too predictable, their allegories too obvious - but even at their best, they demand a degree of emotional work from the player to succeed. Neva is one such experience.
Neva is the Sophomore effort from Nomada Studio, who you may remember from their beautiful, dreamy platformer Gris. Neva is not a literal sequel to Gris, but it certainly seems to be one in a spiritual sense, as it, too, is a floaty hand-illustrated platformer fond of metaphor. Neva introduces some drama, with combat and a health system (if not actual stakes because of near-instant restarts), and although neither the platforming nor combat are precise enough to be neat bedfellows, I think we should be willing to forgive most of the mess.
For a game with virtually no dialogue, I’m almost at a loss to summarize Neva in a few words. I could compare this new title from Gris developer Nomada Studio to the mysteriously bleak world of Hollow Knight, the gameplay of Braid (sans time travel), or the emotional rawness of Life Is Strange. Yet, it feels like such a unique entity that feels like a disservice.
Neva is a simple game on paper. You play as Alba, a young woman who is alone in a dying world except for her wolf, Neva, and a seemingly endless horde of white-masked shadows who kill and corrupt the living. With only a few simple moves at your disposal—double-jumping, dodge-rolling, climbing, attack combos, and, of course, a dedicated “pet the dog” button—you must traverse this watercolour landscape, slaying shades and seeking safety.
Beneath this mechanical simplicity, however, is a much more complex landscape. Neva is a moderately challenging adventure in its own right, but it’s also one of... Read more
