WILDERMYTH

DEVELOPER Worldwalker Games PRICE $35.95 AVAILABILITY Released WEBSITE https://wildermyth.com/

These characters are my best friends; they are lifelong companions, comrades, lovers and rivals. I’ve battled alongside their children, then watched as they all gradually turn grey, or to crystal (don’t ask), and die. Yet, somehow, unlike your Dragon Age or Witcher, Wildermyth’s story is procedurally generated. Every narrative thread feels coherent, so I went in search of process videos, to explain the vast detail with which character and plot development are structured. (It also has a bloody good turn-based strategy combat system, but I’ll get to that later.)

Stories are described as a “library of plays for a school drama program,” by lead developer, Nate Austin, in a talk named, “Procgen in Wildermyth: Storytelling.” The game chooses comic strips that work for the available actors (or characters), yet each will bring “their own flavour to presentation”. Stories are selected via a complex weighting system, then any given character might “tweak their lines” based on trait, class, gender, lover, friends, or family. I had not imagined the intricacy of this logic while playing but it makes complete sense, now I’m aware of it.

And so, when Dagtara met a cute guy in a bar, of course she would follow him on his silly errand. Did it matter that she already had a lover? No. The lover simply initiated a whole sequence of incredulous dialogue and asked to come along as chaperone. Long story short, there were monsters, and the guy made a hasty exit. Eventually, a game lifetime later, when my company of heroes were reminiscing (in the scenario’s evocative ending comic), the elderly lovers had a laugh about that time Dagtara got a crush on a coward. It was amazing.

There is an overarching campaign in which the story is (roughly) fixed, so you’ll mostly be fighting one of several factions, including the bone/metal Morthagi or alien Thrixl, and there will be established characters and quests. How this plays out, however, obviously depends on characters’ emergent evolution as a result of the additional, random quests that are triggered by context. So, my journey through any “fixed” scenario would be quite different to yours. The campaign is highly replayable, in addition to content reserved for random scenarios, too.

There’s an existential sadness to the wider narrative, but smaller increments are almost always cheerful and fun, which is a potent combination in terms of endearing player to characters. To add even more layers to emotional connection, you can choose

characters’ personality traits, like “bookish” or “snarky”, at the start of a scenario or when recruiting. I loved one moment when Prim was recruiting and the newbie accurately made jokes about her past adventures, then apologised, laughed, and said he’d been put up to it by Prim’s rival. A goofball, apparently.

And I have no idea which traits and conditions led to Numdric meeting a doppelganger and them both deciding to live (separately) as Numdric, but it was truly hilarious. In Wildermyth, as in life, I suppose, everyone will pass (even if shadows of certain companions will sometimes fight again, as legacy recruits). War is only ever won temporarily. Makes sense to joke about one’s plight then, I guess. Even when a character dies, the others will comment with wry acceptance, showing they understand that their specialness relies on the intangibility of their creation.

Combat is also procedurally generated, although structured by context. My favourite battles are defending against incursions, when an army of ever-stronger adversaries marches into your territory, after a timer reaches zero. If you prepare defences on a tile, on the strategic map, you can then command a volley of arrows, barricades, townsfolk, and all of your heroes instead of the usual five, on a battle level. It’s extremely fun to feel powerful and well prepared, although this is potentially not as challenging as most other battles (if strong heroes are close by).

Generally, you can attack a tile with a maximum of five heroes or complete a side quest with three, so you’ll have to decide who is right for the job, from warriors, hunters and mystics. It’s your classic melee, ranged, magic mix, but with gameplay doubling down on some unusual and meaningful features. For example, warriors can choose abilities that allow them to end a turn in a guard position, so that they will attack first, as soon as an enemy comes into range. When a hunter, or adjacent character is attacked, they can retaliate, which can be incredible for strategy.

I also like the flexibility that comes with your companions acting in any order, and that you’re often allowed one smaller action for free, like opening a door. Most interestingly, mystics don’t have mana or spells to cast. They “interfuse” with environmental objects and manipulate them in (mostly) offensive ways. So, if you’re interfused with a tree, you might “splinterblast” an area. Interfusing with textiles will allow you to constrict an enemy, causing damage and a movement penalty. It’s a cool take on magic, especially when combined with fire propagation.

Another battle mode I love is “escape”. In Monarchs Under the Mountain, my party of five (tasked with reaching a far flung exit) were immediately surrounded by twenty-two enemies, with endless waves to come. I was overwhelmed several times, but it proved to be an awesome challenge. I even tried sacrificing the terrified daughter of my ageing warrior (frankly, because she was the least experienced) to a terrible, immortal fate, in the vain hope the cultists might be gentle on me, but they were not and then I had only four remaining to fight for me, which was so much worse.

Eventually, I settled on a party of three warriors, one to clear the way, two to guard behind, and two mystics in the middle, one to fling flammable objects, while the other set the entire damn level on fire. Needless to say, the warriors burned and the mystics were butchered, as they inched forward, a few tiles at a time, but the lead warrior reached the exit with one hit point to spare and I was able to salvage those who died a softer death, in various permanently debuffed states. And I got the Pyrrhic Victory achievement to boot. It was amazing.

One of the great intersections for story and combat is that when a companion falls, you can choose a permanent penalty, or to bolster your other companions, but they will always comment in some poignant way. If Prim is maimed and won’t leave her tent for a while, someone caring will check on her, until she’s back on her feet, likely slower but ever as deadly. As these unique friends fade from my memory, it’s definitely better to have loved and lost than to have tried to live forever. In Wildermyth, all die.

And those who don’t will inevitably regret it.