A time-loop story that begins at the end. Or so it seems. As Siffrin, you're tasked to enter the House of Change to defeat the King, in an apparently fairly standard JRPG affair, with quirky characters and a literal rock-paper-scissors based battle systems. Things go according to plan. Honed player reflexes kick in. And then, you die.

From the top.

The story is a thrilling mystery. It stars a small town, a decent size dungeon, and a fairly large cast of well defined characters. As you loop several times on your way to defeat the King, you uncover bits of intriguing backstory. The battle system gets more intricate as you meet stronger foes, learn their tells and your team gains more abilities. The character dialog is endearing, if a bit too energetic. You get into a confortable groove. And then, you die.

From the top, again.

The more you play, the more depth you uncover. The seemingly cheerful story lingers on the more psychologically scarring elements of the time prison. Siffrin progressively reveals hidden layers and trauma, as his frustration grows mirroring your own. The House holds few secrets now. Or does it? Check it again, from top to bottom, and back again. Every interaction could yield precious new information. Maybe you've seen this bit of dialog before. Maybe you haven't? Will you skip it, on the off chance it's changed? You both pay more attention and progressively lose focus. And so, you die.

From the top, again.

After enough loops, the systems grow frustrating. The looping structure is utterly merciless, forcing you to go over every excruciating moments you've already exhausted all possible outcomes of. New options become sparse. The battle system, too simplistic. Thankfully, Siffrin retains the experience they earn through each loop, making them progressively unstoppable. You can skip most of what you've been through before. Why bother to check every spot *again*? What interaction are you missing to progress this *specific* narrative thread? It's grating, infuriating. And then you uncover a critical piece of information, and everything becomes new again. Time to review all you've found so far. You know what you have to do.

From the top, again.

Ultimately, the game excels at its character interactions, with heartfelt and sincere moments of bonding. More than its psychological horror coating, more than its overarching lore puzzle, the game explores themes of found family, agency, consent and forgiveness, with moving (if a little didactic) ace/aro, trans, masc gay romance representation, and more. The pacing gets frantic, with back-loaded twists, culminating in emotional catharsis that may feel like it's going a bit everywhere at once - though still managing to land on its feet. After finishing the game, you're left with the sense you've experienced something precious, an individual voice echoing through the craft, a vision that shines through and overpowers the systemic warts, the questionable pacing, the dreary repetition. And once you must say goodbye to these people, you're left with a void to fill. Only one thing left to do.

From the top, again!