Iconoclasts (

2018

) ½

This is honestly the most infuriating game I've played in a long while. Not because it is difficult, or poorly-made, or crashes regularly, but because it is so agonizingly close to greatness but falls short in several simple and preventable ways. Playing Iconoclasts is like eating a steak dinner that the chef has pissed all over. The fresh urine doesn't do that much to detract from the overall flavor, but all the same, you have to wonder why the cook is trying so hard to sabotage his hard work. Seriously, if there was a Metroidvania that I've played that could dethrone Hollow Knight [2017] from its lofty perch, then it's this game right here. The graphics are some of the best pixel art I've ever seen, the bosses are numerous and creative, and the world is downright beautiful at times (though it can be a bit linear and small for its genre). Sure, there's a distinct lack of upgrades and the related backtracking and unlocking new areas that I've come to expect from the genre, but that is hardly enough to turn me against such an otherwise charming and fun game.

The problem is entirely in the game's story. Not the overarching plot mind you, that is a solid bit of work, albeit plagiarized shamelessly from Final Fantasy 7 [1997], but in the execution of that plot. There are way too many times where the game wrenches control away from the player to dump a long, boring deluge of expository dialogue on you. The game even gives you dialogue prompts in these numerous cut-scenes, but they have no impact whatsoever on the rest of the story only on the dialogue you see in the rest of the cut-scene. The game's sole developer, Joakim Sandberg, is tremendously talented when it comes to pixel art, game mechanics, and level-design but he really should have brought in somebody to either edit his script or write a script for him. This was a game that needed to rely more on environmental storytelling than cut-scenes (like how Hollow Knight [2017] and Dark Souls [2011] approach their lore). Tellingly, there are rare moments in the game where rather than giving us a drawn-out piece of dialogue, the game lets the environment do the talking and they are far and away the best bits of storytelling in the whole damn game.

I suspect that part of the problem was the fact that this game was in development (in one form or another) for ten years, being worked on by a solo developer. Sandberg spent a tremendous amount of time fleshing out the lore and history of the world and is consequently afraid that players will miss all the rich details that he's crafted for it. However, most of this world-building could be more suitably worked into the optional dialogue with NPCs, rather than inserted into the main story-line through cut-scenes and lengthy dialogue. That would make it feel like we're gradually discovering the world at our own pace rather than having a bunch of text dumped on us all at once. Sure, some players might not get the full picture if he took this approach, but it's far better to let some people miss out rather than force everyone to go at the same crawling pace.

There are also way too many characters, some of which pop up for a few scenes and serve no purpose whatsoever in the game's larger storyline. Presumably, they are art assets that the developer made over the years for one project or another, designs or characters that he felt obligated to work into the story in some fashion. The pirate captain traveling the world to make a map of all the continents is an especially egregious example of this. He turns up for a scene or two here and there before vanishing back to the ether, having done nothing of significance or impacted any of the characters we care about. This is another case where Sandberg could have used an editor, someone to help him trim the fat from the game.

None of the above-mentioned problems with the game's writing are insurmountable. A vigorous edit of all the text and characters could have saved the game and made it something truly great. More difficult to correct is the lesser issues with the game's tone and overall style. The tone of the story is also all over the place and often at odds with the game's bright cartoony aesthetic. One minute we're taking a walk through the woods on a sunny day, the next the world government's secret police are executing the families of anyone who violated their draconian rules. Hey, here's a goofy supporting character, turns out she's actually motivated by her crippled mother with abandonment issues. This bad guy seems pretty mean, but actually, she's the tragic product of genetic experimentation that has left her nearly invincible but in constant, excruciating pain. Then there are the pretensions of weighty themes and complex issues, that I struggle to take seriously because everything in this game looks like it came from a Saturday Morning Cartoon show.

That said, there is still plenty to admire about Iconoclasts. In particular is the game's collection of unique, complex, and engaging bosses. This is a rogue's gallery that could rival Cuphead [2017] or Gunstar Heroes [1993]. Each one usually has some unique mechanics or puzzle component that has to solve to beat them. Each is utterly unique and highly memorable, often requiring wildly different approaches and strategies to best. One boss is invincible and capable of shooting lasers out of his eyes, so to beat him you have to just run, navigating a series of obstacles while you look for a way out. Another is a malfunctioning machine that requires you to fix the damn thing while dodging its attacks. One is just a super-powered old man whose trying to train you in stealth, so you have to hide from him and ambush him in turn. There's a big fluctuation in terms of the quality of these bosses, but each one stands out immediately from the rest of the herd.

The pixel art is lovely. The character models are all distinct and vibrant, though a weird amount of care has been taken to make some of them look sexy (particularly so with the main character). The bosses are fantastic, though they alternate rather wildly between being horrific in some cases and goofy in others (which can be considered part of the game's issue ). The background details as well are fantastic. Each environment is rendered in exquisite detail, using a distinct color palette that easily separates them from the rest of the game's world. At the same time, the world feels cohesive, as landmarks from one area or another (as well as the cracked moon) can be seen across the whole world.

Then there is the question of the game's self-censorship. When the game initially released in January of 2018 it included a scene where a bunch of enemy soldiers sit around in a tavern telling off-color jokes while the player character escapes above. You need to time your movements with their raucous laughter less they catch you. The jokes are low-brow and crude but what else would you expect from a bunch of grunts working for the baddies? Shortly after the game came out though, one of the modern-day puritans working at the increasingly misnamed publication Vice took offense at the jokes. Within a few months, the jokes were removed from the game and replaced by a bunch of lame puns, the kind of which you might find in a joke book for children. Let me offer a bit of unwarranted advice for developer Joakim Sandberg in the unlikely event that he ever reads this article. Changing your artwork to satisfy the moral scolds in modern gaming journalism is a fool's errand. Nothing will ever be enough for them. Their profession hinges on finding things to complain about, so even if you put out the blandest, most inoffensive game possible, you can be certain that they will discover something to bellyache about. You sank ten years of your life into this project, and while I'll admit that its flaws are myriad, you need to take some pride in that and not alter it just because it doesn't jive with some blogger's delicate sensitivities.