Necrobarista
PC, PS4, Switch
Its subject matter is presented with such style, humour and sensitivity as to be invigorating
Developer Route 59 Games
Publisher Route 59 Games, Coconut Island Games
Format PC (tested), PS4, Switch
Release Out now
Heavy is the head that wears the crown – or the soul that wears the apron, in the case of Necrobarista. Maddy has recently taken over management of a café from her long-time mentor, Chay. They’ve been working together at The Terminal, serving up coffee and sarcasm with equal aplomb, for years. This place exists in a liminal space. People pass through on their way to the afterlife, and are permitted just 24 hours in the cafe to come to terms with their death. But The Terminal has accrued a huge debt – not monetary, but temporal – due to certain punters staying around longer than they ought to. And, one way or the other, it’ll have to be paid.
How Maddy deals with this responsibility forms the narrative core of this visual novel, which grapples with difficult topics: death, grief, power dynamics, emotional abuse. But, like a good cup of coffee, Necrobarista feels well-balanced – neither too bitter, nor too sweet. Its subject matter is presented with such style, humour and sensitivity as to be invigorating. The Terminal itself is a soothing place in which to wander, its espresso machines and cosy seating areas bathed in sepiatone, the hub from which you begin each chapter of the story.
Scenes play out more like a player-guided film than a typical visual novel. As expected, you click to read through the tale line by line. But instead of a handful of two-dimensional character drawings changing their facial expressions slightly, any given click sees the camera reframe the action, as the cel-shaded 3D character models converse and interact. From wide establishing shots to close-ups on faces at key moments, to cut-ins of more intimate details such as a nervous gaze or fidgety hand, Necrobarista’s cinematography is exquisitely well-tuned.
And being in control of the pacing makes it all the more enjoyable. We find ourselves speeding through one of the many instances of quickfire banter between Maddy, her customers and her ragtag café family, keen to match the momentum of the one-liners coming thick and fast. In other moments, we give the more soulful statements the time they deserve. The opportunities feel deliberately included, with dialogue-free wide shots after certain lines encouraging you to let the characters stare out at the view beyond The Terminal for a beat or three longer – before you click, and one of them produces an “Anyway…”, both player and character at once breaking the spell.
Indeed, this is a magical world. As Maddy wrestles with how to pay the café’s debt to the mysterious Council (whose iron-helmeted, soft-hearted enforcer Ned is a standout character, at once imposing and beleaguered), look after teenage engineer Ashley and counsel newlydeceased customer Kishan, details delight. There’s talk of alcohol so potent that one shot of it has you waking up six hours in the past; bloodsports running hot in the basement as patrons gamble with time itself; quantum hallways that must be reminded they exist to appear.
The weirder aspects of this alternate Melbourne are propped up by a wonderful quasi-footnoting system that highlights the occasional word in the dialogue in yellow. Click one, and Necrobarista’s unknown narrator not only seeks to provide an explanation for what’s being mentioned, but also often offers wry commentary on concepts both magical and mundane. One might describe exactly what is meant by ‘spirit liquid’. Others are jokes, as when Ashley mentions Icarus and the footnote reads, “Imagine being Daedalus and watching your son do the exact thing you told him not to do.”
Words appear in a shivering cloud at the end of each ‘episode’: you’re permitted to pick seven of them per chapter, and are awarded tokens depending on what categories the ones you pick fall into, be that Lore, Death, Melbourne, Magic, Food or any of the main characters’ names. When you’re sent back to the hub to wander the café – which opens up further as the game progresses – you can spend the tokens to unlock purely text-based side stories. These help to build Necrobarista’s world out even further (one involving reviews of faulty crucibles is a great send-up of Amazon, and another featuring emails from an irritated neighbour accusing Maddy of mooching off her supplies is both funny and a portent of Maddy’s selfish side, which comes to bear in the main plot).
But accruing the right number of tokens involves a lot of guesswork, as it’s not always easy to tell which word is associated with which category, or to remember who said what. Your best option is to choose the words you’re drawn to, which gives us a surplus of Magic and Lore tokens, and very little currency to unlock side stories about intriguing characters such as Chay. While the system does allow us to feel like we have some sway in a very linear game, the execution is confusing – as is the fact that the ‘unlock’ menu is used on some mandatory missions. These don’t cost tokens, but it’s a bizarre choice: we’re not unlocking anything, so why present the interface at all?
And there are more moments that belie some messy changes of direction. There are three characters who pay the café a flying visit who we’d have loved to see much more of – and one featured in the game’s catchily-scored opening cinematic that we never see at all. If we were being very charitable, we might say the too-brief appearances of certain characters are in keeping with one of Necrobarista’s central themes – our fear of transience. And it’s tempting to give Route 59 the benefit of the doubt: in so many other respects, Necrobarista sets out its wares with superior grace, brevity, and wit. It couches relatable stories in its highly individualistic setting, presenting it all with a mastery of varying tones so as to make its point without being reductive or mawkish. At its heart, it’s about summoning the courage to recognise what we owe to each other and to ourselves, and the magic of redressing one’s imbalances in this life – whatever form it may take – as well as the next.