Among my favourites is a restful mushroom-picking quest which saw me using a mycology handbook to identify the right growing conditions for certain fungus breeds, peering at leaf shapes and fallen logs while avoiding the gaze of a patrolling guard. The delight of delving deeper into the fortress lends even the most humdrum oddjob a certain thrill, however, and there's the odd setup that exploits the sumptuous environment design to great effect. It's a very forgiving to-do list, probably too forgiving for its own good - working out the right route aside, you'll only really ever have to worry about finding candles or lamp oil to light your path, with no weapons or tools to wield save throwable distraction items and the odd (inexplicably) explosive pinecone. The game's missions mostly consist of fetchquests, but there's the odd simple platforming sequence or physical puzzle such as activating artefacts in order, plus a few "dialogue battles" where you must pick the right responses to stop a character losing patience. You'll meet plenty of potential allies in the process, from argy-bargy thieves through grandmotherly cooks to gloating apothecaries, all of whom will send you off on various errands before they'll agree to help you. He is soon sprung from his cell by a mysterious figure, and left to scour the rambling keep for an exit while trying to learn the fate of his spouse. Ghost of a Tale is the tale of Tilo, a mouse minstrel thrown in the clinker after his wife Merra angers a rat baron by refusing to perform a certain song. The act of stitching those wayward, ruined chambers together also chimes with the narrative, a story about rediscovering the past and building trust across racial divides that is a lot more searching than its parade of waggling tails and frog beards might suggest. Working out how the game's spaces thread into one another, letting their twists and turns sink into muscle memory, is as integral to Ghost of a Tale's appeal as its hypnotic good looks. Like Lordran, it's a persistent environment bound together by a profusion of cunning shortcuts, unlocked one by one - rope elevators that whisk you from the gardens to the signal tower, doors that open from one side only and secret passages cheekily visible through rusted grates. As with From Software's Lordran, Dwindling Heights Keep is a purgatory for lost people and things that is much taller than it is broad, stretching from a bone-strewn shoreline up through catacombs and sewers to a barracks, kitchen and armoury. Above all, there's the spectre of Dark Souls - a game with which Ghost of a Tale engages in fascinating, not always successful ways. The view from the keep's belfry recalls the view inland from ICO's fortress walls, yellow crenelations biting into blissful green distances. There's a touch of Square Enix's winding masterpiece Vagrant Story to certain overgrown, shady courtyards, and a generous dollop of both Zelda and Moria in the shape of a magnificent underground vault, woven around a circular puzzle structure. ![]() Indeed, this slightly muddled third-person action-RPG's greatest strength is probably how it adds to that architectural tradition, though the witty, affecting, politically resonant writing runs a close second. Part of the setting's allure is that it carries the echoes of many great virtual fortresses. ![]() In the course of 20 hours searching for a way out, I've slowly fallen in love with the place - its feathery falls of afternoon light over mossy stonework, its leafblown ramparts and canted mausoleums, its small, hard-bitten population of anthropomorphic rats, mice, frogs and magpies. ![]() Ghost of a Tale's castle feels like a prison at first but ends up feeling like home. Weather its bugs and lacklustre stealth, and Ghost of a Tale is a quietly ravishing potted epic with a serious subtext.
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