Stranger Things 3: The Game
PC, PS4, Switch, Xbox One
You’d think a retro-styled action-adventure would be an ideal fit for The Duffer Brothers’ nostalgiafuelled Netflix hit. Alas, the show’s Amblin-esque blend of coming-of-age drama, sci-fi and schlocky horror is in scant evidence in this frankly tedious adaptation. It’s faithful to its source in a superficial sense, following the plot of the third series so closely that for those who’ve seen it, the whole thing functions as an incredibly long-winded recap. And for those who haven’t, it’s little more than an extended spoiler, not least in the sense that anyone with the patience to reach the end is sure to wonder what all the fuss was about.
Given it’s set in 1985, it doesn’t work as an authentic throwback either. A true homage to the time would not look like a 16bit home console game, much less feature the kind of contemporary crafting mechanics that add nothing more than extra busywork to already protracted fetch quests. Its rudimentary combat feels a little more era-appropriate: each character, of the dozen you’ll gradually accrue, has a normal attack and a special bound to an energy meter that’s topped up by drinking Coke. There’s a block that’s designed to let you absorb a blow and respond with a more powerful counter, but since you’re rarely
up against a single opponent, it’s borderline useless. Far better to chip away from distance with Lucas’s slingshot, or use the range of Dustin’s hairspray against the gangs of Russians, thugs and Russian thugs that pad out the set-pieces lifted from the show. Whether you’ve got a co-op partner or not, you’ll explore as a pair: it’s worth roping in a friend, if only to lighten the load of individually moving two characters onto pressure plates to open a door, an example of the kind of creativity you can expect to find in the puzzles.
The ability to switch in any character allows BonusXP to throw in some skill-gated exploration, which amounts to nothing more than tapping buttons to use Joyce’s bolt cutters or Dustin’s hacking skills, while making a nonsense of the plot. And while there’s amusement in watching, say, Steve clear a room with his infinite supply of ice cream cones, it’s preposterous that these do more damage than Eleven’s psychic attacks (her space-clearing ‘nuke’ attack costs two energy points, the only real sign of her formidable power). Meanwhile, the horror elements simply don’t register. You’ll be more irritated than scared by the tiny, fleshy blobs that take an inordinate number of hits to destroy, while one potentially tense pursuit is over in seconds: a rare sequence that doesn’t drag its feet. Unlike the corny-cute singalong of the finale, this isn’t a Neverending Story, but at times it feels like one.