Felix The Reaper
PC, PS4, Switch, Xbox One
Developer Kong Orange
Publisher Daedalic Entertainment
Format PC, PS4, Switch (tested), Xbox One
Release Out now
Who knew being a grim reaper was so arduous? Making sure people snuff it when their number’s up involves a lot of legwork and heavy lifting. As Felix, a field reaper for the Ministry Of Death, it’s your job to meddle in events so they play out as destiny intends. Time freezes as you enter the world, allowing you to shift the scene around then disappear before the grisly results unfold. It’s a fun premise that somehow translates into lugging boxes and barrels about.
Each level has you relocate a key item (some rocks, a goat) to build a deadly chain of events. But since you can only work in the shadows, progress depends on the position of scenery and the direction of the light. Strategic use of moveable containers, combined with an ability to spin the sun through 90 degrees, can change the patterns of shade in your favour. It’s a smart twist on the block-puzzle form, as you manage your location in relation to other objects and the solar axis.
It’s a shame it evolves so little, with transporter tubes and pressure switches the only significant additions to the core actions of lifting and placing. In the wake of the endlessly inventive Baba Is You, it’s as skeletal as Felix’s head. It could learn from Baba functionally, too. Clarity and precision fall foul of the messy art style, cluttered environments and a camera that can’t decide whether to follow cursor or character, while the absence of an instant restart or step-by-step rewind are unfortunate indeed.
It’s left to the game’s quirky tone to add spark, which it does only sporadically. The humour is hampered by a stingy rationing of punchlines, with one death per chapter and just five in total, rather than a gruesome reward for every stage. The story, about Felix’s impossible love for Betty from the Ministry Of Life, shows promise (aided by Patrick Stewart’s flamboyant narration), then promptly vanishes. And there’s the dancing, as Felix dons his headphones to boogie non-stop through every stage. Occasionally it boosts the experience – reach a checkpoint and the beat intensifies with Felix’s moves, injecting a sense of rhythm into your efforts if you hit a few in quick succession. Yet mostly, as you focus on scanning the surroundings, working through spatial conundrums, it’s nothing but background noise.
Wherever you look in Felix The Reaper, you see the same problem. It’s competent but insufficient and disparate, full of ideas that haven’t been fleshed out or meaningfully linked, as if it’s all stripped back from a broader original vision. In time it becomes laborious. Dancing must be Felix’s coping mechanism for an existence that’s lifeless in the wrong way.