It’s not often that I go by the collective view of a group or aggregated score in one’s continuing journey to find games worth talking about. Generally avoiding the whole “popular = noteworthy” trap not out of some gratifying attempt to seem different, but simply out of concern that perhaps little else can be added to the conversation from my end. It’s usually a matter of trusting one’s intuition and optimism alike (naive-laden the latter trait might sadly be) that whatever has my eye holds some sort of merit or interesting aspect to talk about. No matter how obscure or niche the focus of one’s views might be. Thus as it sometimes turns out, that quest has you stumble upon a game that consumers are shedding a light on moreso than anywhere or anybody else. Little press, little critical attention, little still some foundation with which to research and gather resources on. But is that not the sign of a game that surely must be doing something right? A fair few things right if an Overwhelmingly Positive, to borrow some Steam lingo here, rating is anything to go by.
Case in point: Pseudoregalia. A clear throwback to 3D platformers of the N64/PlayStation era whose blocky environments, low-resolution textures, ethereally-foggy (intentionally so) corners and seemingly rough-around-the-edges attire, should have you running in the opposite direction. Faster than you can say “rose-tinted glasses.” Yes, this brand of vintage “plays exactly like something ripped straight out of the era” release is nothing new. And yet, the uninspired, admittedly low-quality nature of its promotion contrasting with the reasonable asking price raises if not a red flag then certainly a few yellow equivalents. Pseudoregalia should, on the surface, be as dispensable, forgettable and as uneventful as most digital-only games wind up being. A few rungs higher than the ample “asset-flip” excuses. Not even a blip in the annual cycle of releases that come and go, let alone those considered worthy of mention. But hey, on this occasion let’s trust what people say and see what this game is all about. If what it’s theoretically all about lends itself to more than what its in-game footage professes.
Pseudoregalia puts you in the shoes of Sybil, an anthropomorphic goat-like warrior who is pulled into a dream-like realm, referred to in name as simply Castle Sansa. I only know this because this is what the game’s descriptor says; as far as narrative or that which the game itself is willing to reveal, Pseudoregalia is near-completely absent of explanation. The game’s literal opening a cold and immediate dropping one’s self straight into action. You’re in a room, you don’t know where, you now have control, GO! Not that these types of cryptic, veiled introductions are inherently new, but Pseudoregalia appears to take this brand of hands-off delivery to its most extreme length. It would be easy to feel that the game isn’t at all empathetic to the idea players may wind up stuck at any one moment. To some, this absence may be desirable; that the game features neither objective markers, nor even a map to refer back to. New rooms unlocked and alternate paths revealed, quickly revealing that the structure is more akin to a Metroidvania than necessarily a 3D platformer.
Favorable a design choice this might seem, there are frustrations to this absence that can’t be ignored. Not least when the reliance on similar environmental and artistic styles wind up blurring together. Simply finding the correct room to progress through isn’t as straightforward as one might hope. The blocky, geometric nature of level design making it somewhat difficult to distinguish one corridor from another. A problem that only persists when it comes to backtracking to unlock doors with an acquired key or simply applying that newly-donned ability so as to progress with the main path. At least, what feels like the main path per se; again, Pseudoregalia doesn’t give much away in so far as what’s essential, what’s optional, what’s necessarily right, wrong or simply out of the usual order here. And while there comes a point where a specific combination of tools and abilities are required, this is as far as the game goes in directing you to some sort of tangible goal.
And truth be told: that’s precisely why this game is as fascinating as it is. It’s one thing to straddle the line between curiously obscure and frustratingly vague, it’s another to accomplish something few games employing this deliberately-retro, deliberately-nostalgic mindset, achieve. The one trait that gives nostalgia and fondness for those games we played as kids, such resonance and influence to begin with. Playing Pseudoregalia draws much a similarity with playing those 3D platformers of the mid-to-late 90’s in that it’s not what the game intentionally visages that draws one’s interest, but what we may theoretically envisage that gives the game its air of mystery and intrigue. Like looking at a grand sky-box in a game like Super Mario 64 – imagining what that sunken, underwater city might entail if one were to reach it. Or marveling at the way the original Spyro the Dragon used color to make its horizons feel much more grander than the geometric spaces would confine you to.
As vague, threadbare and loose its narrative may be, Pseudoregalia persists with its air of mystery as to what this setting may be. A reason as to its lack of denizens, lack of activity. Where, amidst the basic polygonal environments and brief details, would suggest there should be more, yet there isn’t. Neither welcoming nor uneasy an ambiance – an added layer, self-substantiated it might be, that makes exploration not just a mere case of where, but why. Pseudoregalia itself explores (and from what it seems, agrees with) the idea that early 3D games, technically-limited they were, could harbor just as strong an atmosphere or aesthetic as any creation powered by modern hardware. Reliant on the imagination of its players it might’ve been, it’s this delving into (preying on perhaps) one’s own perceptions that lends old games this more unusual of accolades. Sometimes the games we loved as kids weren’t so much about what they showed, but what they didn’t.
Whether it’s the music employed, the ambiance constructed or any one of its other intentional technical foundations, Pseudoregalia may look lo-fi, low-budget, low quality if one were pushing for harsher descriptors. In a more realistic sense, you could make the case that its loose, directionless, hands-off approach to navigation doesn’t always work in its favor. Not least when the eagerness to fully immerse itself in the attire of early-3D, 1990s graphics results in one or two instances of revisiting rooms you passed mere minutes ago. Call it a faithful recreation of that bygone era – for both better and worse – it’s what Pseudoregalia recognizes above all about the mystery of 3D spaces (manufactured and fantasized they may be) that is its biggest draw. On top of it heralding a satisfying control scheme – whose increased move-set only adds to the exploration and platforming alike. Far from the best game released this year it might be, that a game can draw on that childish wonder of large rooms, abandoned spaces and the grand, foggy sky-boxes encompassing one’s travels, Pseudoregalia is, faults and all, a surprise but a welcome one nonetheless.
