So I did it. I finished Virtue’s Last Reward.
Spoilers follow for both 999 and VLR.
Continue reading “1484: Virtue’s Last Reward, No Really It’s Totally the Last One This Time”
One existential crisis at a time
So I did it. I finished Virtue’s Last Reward.
Spoilers follow for both 999 and VLR.
Continue reading “1484: Virtue’s Last Reward, No Really It’s Totally the Last One This Time”
I will finish this game. I will finish this game. It’s been 40 hours. It’s a matter of pride now.
There may be mild spoilers for Virtue’s Last Reward in this post. There will almost certainly be spoilers for 999. I haven’t quite worked out what I’m going to write yet; I just feel like I need to do something like a brain dump in order to try and work out what on Earth is going on.
Putting in a “read more” tag so those casually browsing the front page don’t run into any spoilers… see you after the jump if you’re continuing to read.
I’m still plugging away at the sequel to 999, Virtue’s Last Reward. This is an interesting game in many ways, but one of the most fascinating things I’ve found about it so far is how it’s far more willing to withhold an ending from you than 999 was. In 999, there was only one ending that had a “prerequisite” — i.e. you had to finish one path before you could finish the “true” path — but in Virtue’s Last Reward, there are numerous plot branches that end prematurely with a “To Be Continued” message that may only be unlocked using knowledge obtained in one of the other narrative paths. Consequently, a big part of the game’s challenge looks set to revolve around determining precisely which order you should do things in.
To speak too much about this aspect of the game and why it’s structured in this way would be to get somewhat spoileriffic, and I know that at least one person who might be reading this is currently playing through the game at the same time as me, a number of hours behind where I am. As such, I’ll refrain from discussing this aspect of it too publicly for the moment and satisfy myself simply by saying that I find this approach really interesting.
It’s one of the things I like best about the visual novel medium, as it happens. It’s also one of the main means through which the visual novel medium distinguishes itself from conventional novels and other linear forms of storytelling. The branching nature of visual novels means the medium inherently lends itself to a form of storytelling whereby you only get the complete picture of what is going on by seeing things from multiple perspectives. And I’m not necessarily talking about switching narration perspectives to different characters — in most cases I’m simply talking about the protagonist making different choices, proceeding down a different path and consequently demonstrating a different side to themselves.
In some cases, these different paths are manifested as the protagonist changing in different ways. In Katawa Shoujo, for example, each narrative path sees the protagonist learning something from his chosen partner, and growing into a markedly different person as a result. He’s still Hisao at heart, but each of the girls bring a different aspect of him to the forefront — Rin brings out his artistic side, for example, while Emi encourages him to never give up and to always keep on with whatever he’s put his mind to.
In other cases, these different paths simply allow us to see how the protagonist responds to different life situations. In Kira Kira, for example, each of the main narrative paths corresponds to each of the very different female members of the cast, each of whom have their own story to tell. By seeing all of these stories through to their conclusion, you get a complete picture of who they are — and perhaps the reasons they do the things they do.
One of the best examples I can think of in recent memory is School Days HQ, too. I’m still yet to see 100% of the scenes in this, but I’ve seen enough of the endings to know that knowledge gained in some narrative paths can completely change the way you look at others. What may superficially seem to be a romantic scene can be tinged with sadness or tragedy when approached from a different angle with different knowledge already in your mind. And if you’re unfortunate enough to catch that game’s most notorious bad ending on your first run through… well, I pity you trying to see the rest of the game in the same way afterwards.
Rather than separating narrative paths into their own discrete threads that neatly tie themselves up, then leaving the player to do all the mental fingerwork to weave them all together into a complete picture, it seems that Virtue’s Last Reward is deliberately structured in such a way as to encourage you to explore all the different options — including the “bad” endings. In the path I played tonight, making a “bad” choice ultimately proved to be something I actually needed to do in order to progress the story further down another route. That’s something I’ve never seen before, and it’s proving to be a real highlight of the experience for me.
But as I say, in discussing this we’re getting dangerously close to spoiler territory, and I’m keen to avoid that. So I’ll leave that there… and now I’m off to go and see if I can’t actually make it to one of the endings before I go to sleep this evening.
I can’t remember if I’ve talked about Velocity here before, so here I am talking about Velocity.
Velocity, in case you’ve never come across it before, is a game from the Brighton-based indie developer FuturLab. It began its life as a PlayStation Minis title for PS3 and PSP, then was subsequently ported to Vita with numerous enhancements as Velocity Ultra. So positive was the reception to the first game, it seems, that the team at FuturLab is currently in the process of putting together a sequel — a sequel that’s looking rather fab, if the early version I had the good fortune to play at the recent <a href=”http://www.usgamer.net/articles/egx-turning-up-the-velocity” target=”_blank”>Eurogamer Expo</a> is anything to go by.
But I want to talk about the original today, or rather Velocity Ultra. I reviewed Velocity Ultra a while back for USgamer and enjoyed it a lot, but I must confess that in the process of reviewing it, I didn’t make it through every little bit of content it had to offer — largely because doing so would have taken significantly longer than I had time for, and also because I’d already seen a lot of it in Velocity’s previous incarnation as a PlayStation Minis title.
I’ve been going back to clean up what I missed in the game recently, though, and I’m reminded of what a fantastic game it is. Beginning as what appears to be a relatively straightforward top-down shooter, the game gradually evolves, changes and grows in complexity as it progresses; firstly, you get the ability to teleport over short distances (including through walls); then you get the ability to drop telepods at strategic points in the level in order to teleport over long distances and take alternative routes. By the time you get through all 50 of the game’s main levels, you’re practically playing a different game.
Things are mixed up along the way, too. Sometimes you’ll have levels that are filled with enemies; other times they’ll be complex maps with multiple paths. Other times still you’ll have a very tight time limit and have to get through as quickly as possible. Different types of level require different strategies.
Where the truly addictive gameplay in Velocity comes in, though, is medal-chasing. Upon completion of a level, you’re ranked according to how many survivors you rescued, how many points you scored and how quickly you successfully completed the level. Attain the highest accolade in all of these categories without dying once and you’ll earn a “perfect” medal, and it’s chasing these “perfects” that is so ridiculously addictive. The reason for this is that the difficulty of achieving the goals is pitched just perfectly; it’s always just tantalisingly out of reach rather than seemingly impossible. Pretty much anyone with a good handle on the mechanics will be able to attain at least a few Perfects along the way, though it does get significantly more difficult as the levels become more complex.
And then there are the secret levels. Secret levels! I can’t remember the last modern game I played that had secret levels, and yet here they are in Velocity, unlocked through getting your tiny Quarp Jet into places you wouldn’t normally expect it to go, usually as a result of checking the map and spotting something out of place. There are a further 20 secret levels on top of the 50 main levels, and not all of them use the standard game mechanics. There’s a 10-level Thrust-inspired minigame, for example; there’s a twist on FuturLab’s earlier game Coconut Dodge; there’s even a version of Snake. Successfully contend with all those and you have the incredibly challenging but rewarding and addictive “Red Zone” and “Blue Zone” levels in which time limits are tight, the pathways tighter and the slightest clipping of a wall will destroy you.
I was delighted that the upcoming Velocity 2X felt so much like the first Velocity when I played it at Eurogamer Expo — and particularly pleased that the brand new sections where you get out of your ship and run around for some platforming sections make use of pretty much the same mechanics, with the only real difference being that you’re now affected by gravity. I’m really looking forward to playing the sequel, but in the meantime, I’ve got a whole bunch of Perfect medals to try and attain, so if you’ll excuse me I’m going to challenge a few more before I go to sleep.
Hello! We fixed our Internet, no thanks to BT; Andie called ’em up earlier and they wanted to spend several days “testing our line” before calling us back on Tuesday, presumably with an engineer visit to follow after that if necessary — which it probably would be, since it appeared to be our fibre modem that was borked. Thankfully, a past example of BT’s incompetence meant that we did, in fact, actually have two fibre modems, so we tried the old one and it turns out it still works. Win.
Anyway, enough of that. What I want to talk about today is the PSP.
The PSP came out in 2005, some five years after the launch of the PS2 and a year before the PS3. It failed to make a significant impact in the West upon its original launch and has sometimes been considered one of the problem children of Sony’s lineup. There’s a degree of justification for that — its reliance on a proprietary physical media format (UMDs); a laudable but ultimately doomed attempt to jump into the “all-digital” future well before the world was ready for it (PSP Go); a distinct lack of prominent marketing — but in the intervening years since its original launch, the PSP has actually become one of my favourite systems.
Perhaps the most impressive thing about it is the fact that after eight years, it’s still relevant and doesn’t show any sign of going away any time soon — and it has the Vita to thank for that. Vita is the best way to play PSP games due to its lovely OLED screen and its second thumbstick — which, when playing PSP games, can be assigned to emulate buttons, allowing for a fairly convincing fudging of dual-stick control for games that previously only supported a single stick — and as such has, in many cases, given the surprisingly vast PSP library of games a whole new lease of life.
This isn’t a case of “it’s backward compatible so you can still play old games” either — people are legitimately still making brand new games for the PSP. Just recently we’ve had Sweet Fuse, for example, and JRPG fans were all aflutter recently when it was announced that Xseed and Carpe Fulgur would be bringing the second part of the magnificent Trails in the Sky to English speakers in the near future.
Access to the entire PSP digital library is, for me, a convincing enough reason in itself to own a Vita — as I noted above, PSP games look and play great on Vita, with the only slight issue being that you can’t play physical versions of games due to Vita’s lack of a UMD drive. It’s also something you can point to any time people complain that Vita has no games — a complaint which is getting more and more inaccurate by the day, incidentally.
So although the PSP is very much one of Sony’s more troublesome children, I have to give the company a huge amount of credit for creating a platform that has endured as long as it has. The PSP has some fantastic games, if you’ve never explored them for yourself, and you might just find yourself discovering some new favourites. And with the impending release of Vita TV — which I’ll be very surprised if we don’t see in the West — all those of you who don’t like playing on handhelds for whatever reason will be able to play these great games on your TV, too. Which sounds pretty great to me.
Now I’m going to go sit in bed and play Sweet Fuse.
I started playing the PSP game Sweet Fuse: At Your Side after finishing Corpse Party and it’s been an interesting experience, particularly given my gaming background.
Sweet Fuse is what’s known as an “otome game”, you see — in stark contrast to “bishoujo games” that tend to have a male protagonist and a veritable harem of dateable female characters, otome games are the complete opposite: female protagonist, veritable harem of dateable male characters. (There are also yuri variations where the female protagonist can date female characters, much as there are yaoi titles for men, where a male protagonist can date male characters. But let’s not get off the point: Sweet Fuse is an otome game in its purest sense.)
I was somewhat intrigued by the prospect of playing Sweet Fuse since although I’m no stranger to playing female characters in games, where romantic options exist I will still generally pair up my heroine with another woman in preference to anything else — my Dragon Age character made a beeline for Leliana, for example, while my LadyHawke in Dragon Age II went for Merrill, as I recall. Sweet Fuse, being an otome game, was going to make me (or rather, my female protagonist) date a male character and like it. And although I’m fairly open-minded about such things, I confess I did feel somewhat skeptical about whether or not I’d feel the same degree of emotional engagement seeing a relationship grow from the opposite way around to how it’s usually depicted in this sort of game.
Why shouldn’t I, though? In your average dating sim or visual novel, you are not playing as the protagonist; you’re along for the ride and making occasional decisions on their behalf. You see stuff unfold and occasionally get frustrated at the protagonist not doing things exactly as you would have done them — but therein lies a sense of dramatic tension. In practice, the only thing that is different between a bishoujo game and an otome game is the fact that the voices are all female in one and all male in the other; and the same for the on-screen portraits of other characters.
That is a reasonably big difference, to be fair, but the fact is that in both cases, you’re still watching two people who aren’t you get together rather than pretending to get off with some virtual girl/dude from the first person. In that sense, it’s not really any different to reading a novel with a love story, or watching a movie with love scenes. So why should playing as a protagonist of the opposite sex who becomes attracted to people who are the same sex as you make you feel weird?
Answer: it doesn’t. In the admittedly limited time I’ve spent following the adventures of Saki Inafune and her six gentlemen friends as they attempt to defuse the bombs a terrorist who is also a pig secreted in her uncle Keiji Inafune’s theme park — yes, that is indeed the creator of Mega Man — I’ve been surprised to find myself feeling much the same as I do when playing a bishoujo game.
Specifically, I’ve found myself playing “favourites” with the cast of dateable characters. I can’t quite pin down if it’s due to actually finding them attractive, or simply liking their characters, but I’ve naturally found myself gravitating towards one of the characters in my first playthrough, much like I would in a typical bishoujo game. (I tend to “go with my gut” for my first playthrough of this type of game, then go back and systematically pursue the remainder of the cast/endings one at a time in order to see everything the game and its stories have to offer.)
It helps that Sweet Fuse has a cast of male characters easily as diverse — possibly more so, even — than your average bishoujo game. There’s the cold, stern detective; the young boy band idol; the aggressive, overly-compensating male escort (who reminds me of Kanji from Persona 4 to a distracting degree); the world-weary reporter; the shut-in; and the “mystical guy”. The latter, a guy named Urabe, is the one I have my eye on for this first playthrough, but we’ll see where it goes.
I’m only on the second “stage” of my first playthrough so far so there’s probably quite a way to go yet. There’s some interesting mechanics in the game that I’ll talk about a bit more on another occasion. In the meantime, if you have the slightest interest in character-centric, story-focused games — and a PSP or Vita — then you could certainly do far worse than check out Sweet Fuse. Full review coming soon over on USgamer.
Andie (and some of you, I’m sure) will undoubtedly be delighted to hear that I finished Corpse Party: Book of Shadows last night, which means I will no longer be sitting in the dark before going to sleep with the sounds of Japanese schoolgirls screaming emanating from my headphones.
So what of Book of Shadows as a whole? Well, I enjoyed it — as much as it is possible to “enjoy” a Corpse Party game, anyway — and, as I noted the other day, I particularly appreciated its unconventional narrative structure. For those who didn’t read that post the other day and are too lazy to click on that link, Book of Shadows essentially acts as a collection of “deleted scenes” and alternate endings to the original Corpse Party for the most part, with each chapter focusing on a different group of characters and either exploring “what if?” scenarios if things had gone differently in the original game, or acting as a means of expanding on and exploring the stories of a number of incidental characters who were either already dead by the time the first Corpse Party’s story unfolded, or who showed up in the game’s “Extra” chapters after you’d finished it.
One of the strengths of the original Corpse Party was how well-realised all of the characters were, and this continues in Book of Shadows, even in the chapters that explore characters other than the main cast of the first game. Each character is an interesting person to spend time with, and the fact the game is structured as more of a visual novel than the original game was means that there’s a lot more in the way of narration from each chapter’s protagonist than there was in the original. This lets you get inside the head of these characters to a much greater degree than previously, and this, coupled with the again fantastic Japanese voice acting, makes for an experience where you really get a strong sense of who these characters are, what they’re like and how they’re handling the horrific situation in which they find themselves. And, as I noted in my previous post, there’s not usually a happy ending, since by the time the cast of the first Corpse Party arrive at Heavenly Host Elementary School, most of the people they come across are dead.
Once you’ve worked your way through all the main chapters of Book of Shadows, you unlock a hidden final chapter called Blood Drive. (If you’ve finished the game and haven’t unlocked this, you either need save data from the original Corpse Party on your memory card or to see all of the Wrong Ends from all the previous chapters before it will unlock.)
Blood Drive is the “true” sequel to the original Corpse Party, following on directly from where the previous game left off. Unfortunately, the chapter Blood Drive is but a preview for the game Blood Drive, which is not yet even out in Japan, meaning that the game ends on one hell of a cliffhanger that won’t be getting resolved in the immediate future. Still, the amount of “oh NO!” I felt as the credits rolled for the last time is testament to how engaging I found the game as a whole — I liked these characters, enjoyed spending time with them and felt bad for them when they suffered, and I really, really want to see how the story continues (or ends?) in Blood Drive.
Unfortunately, I’ll be waiting a while yet. Still, it’s not as if I’m short of other things to play right now — not least of which is Idea Factory’s Sweet Fuse, which I’ve been looking forward to for a while.
Sachiko-san, onegaishimasu. Sachiko-san, onegaishimasu. Sachik– shit, how many times was I supposed to chant it again?
I have — I believe — two more chapters to go on Corpse Party: Book of Shadows, the sequel to one of my favourite PSP games, and, like its predecessor, one of the most emotionally engaging games I’ve ever played.
Book of Shadows is much more of a visual novel than its predecessor was — the RPG-style wandering around and pressing X on things is all gone now, to be replaced with either straight-up “read many, many pages of narration and dialogue” or, slightly less frequently, with some first-person perspective wandering and mild point and click adventuring.
The change in gameplay style isn’t the most interesting thing about Book of Shadows, though; instead, it’s the narrative structure. Rather than telling one continuous story like its predecessor, Book of Shadows is more of a spin-off than a true sequel — at least, as I understand it, anyway, until the final chapter — and instead chooses to spend its time telling self-contained stories that are either prequels to the events of Corpse Party, or “alternate universe” tales that answer a number of hypothetical “what if?” scenarios. For example, one scenario explores what would have happened if a character who died in the original Corpse Party had instead been rescued; another fleshes out one of the original game’s “wrong ends” by showing you exactly what unpleasantness happened to a particular character; another still looks at the story of some incidental characters from one of Corpse Party’s “extra” scenarios.
The fact that the game is being so experimental and exploratory in its various “short stories” is, in itself, interesting, but an even more intriguing thing about it is that the “correct” ending for each of the chapters is not necessarily a “good” one. Indeed, in many cases, all of the possible outcomes are filled with death, pain and suffering, but only one of them is the “correct” one that allows you to proceed to the next chapter. It’s honestly surprising to see something really quite horrible happen to a particular character — even though I was expecting it, given the context — and for the game to then cheerfully announce that I had “cleared” that particular chapter.
This idea of a conclusion to a chapter not necessarily being a happy one is something the first game played with — the “true” ending to the first chapter of the original Corpse Party often has people reaching for the “reload” button the first time they see it — but Book of Shadows really runs with it. It’s something that it’s interesting to see games experimenting with, since most games still take the “happy ending” as the default, “best” or only option, and it’s pretty rare to play something that genuinely ends on a downer. (Of course, I don’t know how Book of Shadows as a whole concludes, but I have the distinct impression that at least one or more of the characters will probably not get out unscathed.) There are a few exceptions, of course — Conker’s Bad Fur Day being one of the most surprising, best examples I can remember — but for the most part it’s still quite rare to come across something deliberately designed to bum you out. (You have achieved a trophy: “Pass the Kleenex.” Wait, that sounds wrong.)
Anyway, two more chapters and I can stop freaking myself out with this game — there’s a deliciously uncomfortable, oppressive atmosphere about the whole game that makes it quite “hard work” to play, but it’s enjoyable in that perverse sort of way good horror is. Next on the agenda, portable-wise, anyway, is Sweet Fuse, aka That Game Where You Play as Keiji Inafune’s Niece.
Have I mentioned ZHP, aka Zettai Hero Project: Unlosing Ranger vs. Darkdeath Evilman on these pages yet? I forget. If not, I’m about to. If I am about to repeat myself, eh, whatever.
ZHP, as I will refer to it from now on to save my sanity, is an RPG from Nippon Ichi for PSP (Vita compatible). Its aesthetic and style is strongly reminiscent of NIS’ flagship strategy RPG series Disgaea, but it’s a very different sort of game — rather than being a turn-based strategy RPG, it’s a turn-based sort-of-roguelike in which you control a single character.
The concept of ZHP is pleasingly ridiculous. The Earth’s hero, the Unlosing Ranger, is on the way to save the world from villain Darkdeath Evilman when he gets run over. As he dies, he passes on his powers to the silent protagonist you spend the rest of the game playing. You, as the new Unlosing Ranger, are immediately thrown into NES-style turn-based RPG combat against Darkdeath Evilman and are defeated almost as quickly as combat begins. Thus begins a lengthy adventure to “train” yourself how to be a proper hero.
I’m only about 10 hours or so into the game so far so I can’t comment with any authority on how the game progresses, but I’m really enjoying it. It’s pleasantly portable friendly while at the same time being deep enough to also encourage hefty play sessions if you’ve got the time or inclination. Despite being turn-based, the dungeon crawling, exploration and combat feels very fast-paced and enjoyable. There’s a lot of loot to collect, all of which is reflected on your character’s appearance when you equip it, but a lot of it is very temporary — items have very limited durability, and thus become all but useless after a while.
Progression in ZHP is unconventional and bizarre. Unlike a traditional roguelike, there’s no permadeath — instead, being defeated in a dungeon tots up all the levels you gained on that particular run and adds them to your “Total Level”. This, in turn, provides bonuses to your base statistics, which means that “level 1” the next time you go into a dungeon is a significantly better “level 1” than it was at the start of the game. This progression can be supplemented by inserting various objects into your body, at which point they become “chips” that affect your base statistics. Then there’s Hero Energy to direct around, booster items to plug into your chips and all manner of other nonsense. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, but it seems to work really well.
At the stage I’ve just got to in the game, I’ve just unlocked a 60-floor dungeon that is clearly intended for grinding purposes. Given that the maps, enemies and even environments are randomly generated each time you enter, the whole game could have been this enormous dungeon and I’d have been happy, but there’s a fun and surprisingly “nice” story running alongside it all too — part of the game’s concept is that by running through the dungeons in “Bizarro World” you’re helping solve the problems of “real” people back on Earth while simultaneously powering yourself up enough to battle Darkdeath Evilman.
Anyway. If you need a portable RPG — and one that’s both toilet- and commute-friendly — then it’s well worth a look. Don’t let the Disgaea-esque aesthetic put you off if you weren’t a fan of that series — ZHP is a very different beast indeed and well worth your time.
After re-finishing Corpse Party for the second time (and this time around actually playing through all the bonus chapters) I moved straight on to its sort-of-sequel Corpse Party: Book of Shadows, a game which I’ve owned for quite some time but haven’t got around to because I wanted to replay Corpse Party first.
So far, I’m very impressed. Book of Shadows maintains the things that were great about Corpse Party — its dark, mature storyline; its realistically flawed but likeable characters; its unusual but startlingly effective soundtrack; and its incredible, incredible sound design and voice acting — while making a few significant and notable changes.
The most notable change from the previous Corpse Party is that it’s no longer a top-down RPG-style affair and has instead become a first-person perspective point and click adventure with lengthy visual novel-style sequences to advance the plot. I’m fine with this, but I was also fine with the top-down nature of the original. I actually really liked the fact that the first Corpse Party had all the trappings of a JRPG — top-down perspective, a menu you pop up with the triangle button, hit points — without any fighting whatsoever. (That said, the PC-98 original version of Corpse Party, of which the PSP version is one of several remakes, concluded with a boss fight.)
Book of Shadows’ shift to the first person is an interesting one, because despite the change in perspective and despite the change from tile-based backdrops to hand-drawn environments, it’s still recognisable as Heavenly Host Elementary School. The map is the same; the rooms are laid out the same; you’re just seeing them from a different perspective. This gives a pleasing degree of consistency to the experience.
The concept is peculiar but kind of neat, too. One of the “wrong ends” of the original Corpse Party saw the band of unfortunate teens travel back in time after successfully reversing the charm that had got them into the school in the first place, only to find themselves repeating the same events exactly as they were before — thereby dooming themselves to the same fate. Book of Shadows runs with the idea that the characters being aware of this “time loop” might see them try to cheat their fate, and the first chapter at least explores what happens if a particular tragedy that occurred early in the first game was averted. In doing so, we get a chance to spend a lot more time with characters who didn’t get a great deal of screen time in the original game (because they were the first to be unpleasantly murdered) and gain a greater understanding of both them and their relationships with others in the process.
I’m digging it so far. The palpable sense of menace of the original is very much intact in this new game, as is the wince-inducing violence — though as with the previous game, Book of Shadows has a wonderful understanding of the concept of “less is more” when it comes to horror. The most effective scares come from the imagination rather than gory scenes on the screen — and while Book of Shadows, like its predecessor, certainly isn’t afraid to show the aftermath of a violent event, the actual instance of something unpleasant happening tends to be depicted through nothing more than text and sound.
Book of Shadows deserves particularly special mention for its sound. The original Corpse Party made magnificent use of fake 3D effects in the stereo field to make it sound like people were whispering in your ear, standing behind you and all manner of other things. Book of Shadows continues this and somehow manages to be even more effective. In an early scene, for example, you’re playing the role of the character Naomi, who finds herself in bed with her possibly-a-lesbian best friend Seiko, who is over for a sleepover. When the lights go out and Seiko falls asleep, you can hear her soft breathing and occasional murmuring to herself in your left ear while Naomi ponders things to herself; when Seiko is roused by Naomi’s mumbling, her voice sounds like she’s lying right next to you. It’s unnerving in its realism, but startlingly effective for immersing you in the game world and story.
I’m partway through the second chapter of Book of Shadows so far. I’m enjoying the “what if?” nature of these chapters, but what I’m really looking forward to is the not-so-secret final chapter that actually acts as a sequel of sorts to the original story. I’m intrigued to see where the story goes, and despite the fact it’s such a consistently unpleasant, depressing series, I really hope we see more in the future.