Review | Sorry We're Closed - A Rapturous PlayStation Scrapbook of Queer Life
Sorry We're Closed is the first major release by game development duo à la mode games and published by Akupara Games. The gameplay, once you get it, is fun, exciting, novel, and spectacular; the story, once you get it, is engaging, sensitive, thoughtful and Queer. The art direction is bold and focused, but borrows quite a bit from some too-obvious nostalgic sources.
During the first two hours of Sorry We're Closed you may find yourself reciting titles in your head: "Resident Evil... Killer Seven... Silent Hill... Revelations: Persona... Undertale..." However, this is an unproductive and boring kind of observation to make—it's a bad habit. I'm trying to get better. It's just...
There is one particular facet, the demon world, where the game doesn't stretch its otherwise strong artistic muscles. It's just the Otherworld from Silent Hill. Everywhere you look you will see chains, grating, fencing wire, and the ever-present, slip-resistant steel floor plate patterns; all dripping wet and rusted to hell. The monsters are eerie shambling flesh silhouettes, the puzzles concern themselves with operating strange machinery, and the protagonist is weirdly nonchalant when you examine blood stains and viscera. In the tombs and some later areas the demon world overlay is given a broader range of aesthetics but overall this feels underdeveloped.
We're not stopping to get you Thief II: The Metal Age. We have Thief II: The Metal Age at home.
Please believe me! Aside from that one particular facet, the aesthetic of Sorry We're Closed is more riff than repetition. It uses the textures, modelling style, atmosphere, and iconography of classic 3D console gaming to remix and elevate itself. The character designs are thrilling and imaginative, mixing high fashion, streetwear, and a playful wildness approaching JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. The dialogue portraits are generous and richly painted and every character's visual design is delightful and evocative, you can feel the artist's deep love for expressive figures and characters. When not running around in a dialogue-centric phase your character, Michelle, explores dark, abandoned spaces armed with vibrant neon-coloured weapons and a luminous hot magenta coat. This look, despite being iconic and just slightly hilarious for a horror game protagonist, ensures that every frame of this game bristles with the primary visual idea: decay and rot contrasted at all times with bright, colourful adulation. No matter how dark or ugly things become there's always a splatter of neon—a bright flash of personality. If that's not Queer, what is? Despite the heavy-handed borrowing from Silent Hill, Sorry We're Closed could get by on its visuals alone... but it doesn't have to.
The gameplay is a delight. Exploration and combat are tense and exciting. Like the visuals, the gameplay and mechanics are also a riff and recombination of ancient game ideas. We explore dark, gloomy dungeons picking up supplies, keys, and key items. We unload that precious ammo into monstrosities and progress further with those keys and key items. The central mechanic and plot idea is Michelle's third eye, an aspect of a curse she's been placed under and the driving force of the plot. You can press a button at any time to activate your third eye. When active you are surrounded by a kind of bubble wherein the demon world (if you're in the normal world) or the normal world (if you're in the demon world) becomes visible. The boundary of the eye's effect is marked by a bright magenta line like Michelle's jacket, this visually centres her perfectly and enhances the readability of the horror action.
The combat involves switching to a first-person camera angle to fire at your enemies. You cannot move when in first person, only shoot, reload, and activate the third eye zone. Enemies caught in the activation of Michelle's third eye zone are briefly stunned. When the third eye zone isn't active your guns do normal damage, however, if a demon passes into the area of effect its heart becomes visible, shooting the heart moves it slightly within the enemy’s body and counts toward a combo that will do the most possible damage and charge up Michelle's super weapon, the Heartbreaker. A fully charged Heartbreaker shot stops time briefly and lets you take out common enemies in one shot or reduce one of a boss's multiple hearts. I'm just going to say it, this rules. Quickly clicking over the hearts during a combo or desperately charging the Heartbreaker on smaller mobs during a boss fight is a thrill. Reloading, activating first-person, then the third-eye and precisely hitting several targets take us out of the basement of Dino Crisis console gaming and into the blaring arcade. Remarkably, I never felt disoriented or confused about where I was facing or what I was doing. Kind of a miracle if you consider this game otherwise takes place in the third-person, in uniquely shaped rooms with the other world third-eye zone adding to the visual intricacy onscreen.
In a just world they'd release an arcade version.
Two tiny considerations I noticed and appreciated: 1, no map. All the dungeons were just small enough for me to hold in my brain but just large enough to feel like a significant adventure. 2, old-school "tank controls" are included but the default control scheme is screen-relative directional, "modern" style. We ain't in Crow Country. I always strive to use as many of the default settings as I can when reviewing a game so I did not utilise the classic approach for this playthrough, however, I fiddled with it a bit after hitting credits and can confirm: it is as it was.
And the story, well, I'd rather not give too much away. Our protagonist, Michelle, is mourning a breakup and her loneliness summons the attention of The Duchess, an archdemon obsessed with love. The Duchess curses Michelle with a third eye through which she may see and interact with the demon world. Michelle's friend Robyn, who themself is no friend of The Duchess, brings us into the horrors of the demon world and starts us on our quest to figure out what to do. There are several endings which are telegraphed quite clearly to the player, you'll be given choices about how to proceed, who to help and who to betray, whose life to meddle with and what promises to keep. Throughout the story and the process of choosing, Michelle's dialogue and character work skillfully to centre her as her own person and character while also totally supporting the player's choice. I really felt like whenever I made a choice, what Michelle had to say about it made it seem like she would have chosen that all along. This helped me stay centred and focused as the story progressed. The story and characters are extremely Queer, a big-city street full of broken, colourful people and their found families just getting by. The writing of the small side stories and setting feels authentic and sincere. The metropolitan setting remains important throughout the story and is reinforced not just with the city visuals but with the story of the state of the little neighbourhood and the unbelievably strong hip-hop boss music tracks from artist Ukumura.
Every day your friends and neighbours around the neighbourhood have new insights and thoughts to share.
There's much to be appreciated, contemplated, and remembered in this playful, sometimes scary, sometimes provocative little game. Sorry We're Closed will hopefully be well-loved and appreciated in its time, but if the quality and vision are any indication, à la mode games is going to be a development team to watch.
