Until Then is cinema, and let no one tell you otherwise
The second outing by Philippines-based Polychroma Games is a triumph of spirit, mind, heart and deft storytelling
Review: Until Then
Developed by Polychroma Games and published by Maximum Entertainment
Rating: ★★★★★★★★★★
There’s no such thing as a perfect game. After all, how could there be? There are so many factors — tangible and intangible — that govern a game’s appeal, enjoyability, execution and ambition that it’s practically impossible to decide that one in particular achieves that elusive status of perfection. And then there’s the fact that as with any work of art, there’s no two opinions that would ever concur fully — after all, one person’s perfection is another person’s idea of mid.
Fortunately for me, I’m only here to represent my views, so I don’t have to concern myself with the last line. Additionally, for the purposes of this article, I intend to use the definition of perfect that means ‘complete’ rather than the one that means ‘flawless’. And even so, this is not meant by any means to be an objective assessment of a game within the universe of all games. After all, a 10/10 action-adventure game looks very different to a 10/10 sports game, which in turn is poles apart from a 10/10 narrative adventure. So without further ado, let’s get down to brass tacks: Until Then is my first perfect game of 2024.
Cinema Paradiso Filipino
I’ve always been enamoured by stories and the manner of their telling. Ultimately, that was what lured me into the warm, comforting embrace of gaming very early on. I was less interested in speedrunning a game than finding out how the story ends, what happens to a certain character and immersing myself in that narrative. And things haven’t changed very much since. But enough about me. Until Then launched on June 25 and it would have slipped under my radar had I not spied a post on X by sunset visitor’s Remy Siu (read the Qun interview with him here).
It becomes apparent very early on that there’s more to the story than a mere unassuming coming-of-age tale. And a lot of that has to do with the visual presentation. Set across a lively and vibrant depiction of Manila, the game relies on a 2.5D style seen previously in the likes of Mojiken Studio’s A Space for The Unbound. Environments are colourful, busy and perhaps most importantly, living and breathing. Characters (main and NPC alike) are beautifully crafted and sport a surprisingly high level of detail considering the medium.
Pulling all of this together is good cinematography that seems much more impressive when you realise you’re actually looking at pixel art. While some of the lighting, camerawork and use of mise-en-scène is very nice, it’s unlikely that this is the first time you’ve seen it. Whether it’s the manner in which some scenes transition into the next or the camera pans across a scene, or the way light bounces off a wet road or fireworks illuminate and colour the faces of those watching them, none of it is all that new. But, to see these phenomena, for want of a better term, in the medium of pixel art is quite incredible.
And then, there’s the setting itself. I’ve never been to Manila, and the amount of it I’ve seen on television/film/random YouTube videos pales in comparison to other Southeast Asian cities. So this was all very new to me. But by the end of my 25-hour-long (more on this later) stay, I felt very much at home. The architecture, food and beverages, public transport, flickering store signs, dimly lit stairwells and cracked pavements painted the picture of an energetic city, full of life, where hope and despair walk hand-in-hand. Best of all, the developers seem confident enough of dropping players into this world without the need to simplify, translate or interpret it for non-Filipinos or those unfamiliar with the city. This deepens the ‘slice-of-life’ nature of proceedings and greatly boosts immersion.
Completing the picture is the game’s audio design and music. Since a significant chunk of the game’s content is centred around music, it would stand to reason that it should be of a high quality. And so it is. The piano arrangements are soulful, and the music of in-game band The Stronks harks back to the garage sound espoused by so many bands in the 2000s and 2010s. The background score is no slouch either, upping the emotional impact of each scene without ever being melodramatic. Bringing up the rear is the bouquet of background sounds ranging from traffic, muzak and birds to rainfall and vendors screaming. It’s safe to say that nearly all the elements for an unforgettable journey are in place. All but one: The storytelling. And that element requires a section of its own.
The art of telling a story
I’d propounded in the past that a narrative adventure is only as good as its writing, because in most cases there is no other gameplay loop behind which shabby writing can hide. In Until Then’s case, there is an interesting mix of gameplay mechanisms on offer, but these are used not to mask any deficiencies in the writing, but to enhance and augment it. There’s quite a lot to be said about the writing, and I’ll get to it shortly. For now, and having already examined the cinematic nature of the presentation, I want to focus on the platform gameplay lays out for the writing to really shine.
Much like ace cinematography, the use of instant messaging and social media in videogames isn’t new. Found phone games rely on it extensively to tell their respective stories. The concept is less deeply explored in more ‘normal’ games — most often it’s used as a tool for world-building. But in Until Then, its integration within the framework of the narrative is what is most compelling. Sure, the messaging and social media exist, in a sense, to flesh out the game’s world and its inhabitants, but also to push the story and its various moving parts along. Take for instance the Facebook-like (see image above) social media app used in the game.
It certainly succeeds in colouring some detail into the lives of NPCs and the state of the country at that point. But by letting you read the comments, the game is able to progress certain story arcs without explicitly spelling out that progression. News reports sprinkled over the timeline are a great way of orienting the player within the current affairs and politics of the time. The presence of cosmetic features like being able to see a larger version of an image by clicking on it or being able to like a post/comment adds to the sense of immersion.
Instant messaging in games, or even television and cinema for that matter, is a nice way of representing conversation silently, without having characters talk to each other in person or on the phone. Like so much else in Until Then, it’s not a new trick, but it’s used to wonderful narrative effect when conveying hesitation (messages are type, then deleted, retyped, perhaps deleted again, before the final version is typed), anxiety (writing out an emotional message before deleting it and replacing it with something more stoic), gloom (watching the ‘is typing…’ status stay on the screen a while and then disappear) and a host of other emotions.
But wait, there’s more. Minigames. That’s right, the centrepiece of every Ryu Ga Gotoku Studio game makes its presence felt in Until Then too. The plentiful minigames are around to offer a disruption to all the conversation in the game, but they too push the story forward in their own little ways. Whether it’s the inability to hit a target due to a disturbed state of mind or a version of Pac-Man that takes on high stakes because of personal reasons, there’s usually more to Until Then’s minigames than meets the eye, no matter how mundane the activities depicted may be.
Style alongside substance
To recap, what we have on our hands is a game that’s good to look at, marvellous to listen to and interesting to play. But is the occasion too big for the story to handle? Rather fortunately, the narrative is more than up to the task. More pertinently, we wouldn’t be discussing why Until Then is a 10/10 game if it wasn’t. Also, mild spoilers will follow from this point on. If you wish to steer completely clear of them, take my word and go buy the game. If not, strap back in for the ride. From the mysterious and minimalist introduction onwards, it’s made clear that we’re onto something special. A prologue about a girl who’s gone missing isn’t the most unique starting point, but it sets the stage quite well for the drama that will ensue in a few hours or so.
You play high-schooler Mark Borja. An intelligent but lazy teen, he’s been living alone since his parents moved to West Asia in search of higher-paying jobs. His near-constant companions are his best friends Cathy and Ridel. He lives a happy-go-lucky existence, fumbling his way from one assignment to the next and from one exam to the next — all on god’s good humour. Although slow, I enjoyed the opening hours of the game that introduced me to his friends and acquaintances alike, while barely giving me a sniff of what lay ahead.
After the occurrence of a few strange goings-on, avid gamer Mark seeks to get to the bottom of it all with the help of a few of his classmates and friends old and new. All along, the writing is crisp and effective, and rarely — if ever — drifts into the realm of the tedious or self-indulgent. The dialogue is effective because it’s based heavily on how people actually speak to one another. This may sound like an extremely obvious thing to say, but sensible and realistic dialogue is not the most commonly found element in games.
Meanwhile, the overall story is a slow-burning one that deftly tackles such themes as belonging, loneliness, loss, grief, hope, denial, acceptance, friendships gained and lost. It even has time to throw in brushes with the supernatural. In many ways, I was reminded of the film All About Lily Chou Chou, which is a similarly multi-faceted coming-of-age tale tinged with a sorrowful darkness. It was at around the 14- or 15-hour mark that I arrived at the heartbreaking conclusion of the game, and sat numbly through the credits. My mind flashed back and forth across my decisions and choices — that seem to flavour your journey, rather than influence it. Convinced eventually that there was nothing I could’ve done to avoid that denouement, I waited for the last of the acknowledgements to roll up and off the screen.
“Continue or Exit?” the game then asked me. Well, continue of course, I thought to myself, after all there was one strand left unresolved rather clumsily. An elephant that was too big to fit in the room, I felt, and yet there he was, lazily swinging his trunk from side to side. Staring at me. I had to continue. But this was no resolution, I soon realised. I was back at the start of the game, except things were very subtly different. As the story wore on, events began to deviate a bit more from what I thought had been my first playthrough. The notion of déjà vu is explored to an extent the first time around, but this time, you are well and truly feeling it for yourself. Only, it’s not déjà vu, you’ve definitely been here before, but things have changed. Most disconcerting for me was the idea of getting used to the altered personalities of certain characters… including Mark’s own.
A testament to the great writing was the fact that where other games would offer the option of skipping cutscenes that you’ve already seen, Until Then does away with them entirely in the second playthrough. The game and its developers want you to invest every bit of attention in the story; they do not want to waste your time on rehashing what you already know. Another cool trick by the writers is the way that the original explanation for the strange goings-on is replaced by an entirely different rationale as the story begins diverging significantly from the familiar path of the first run.
In the interest of not spoiling your experience anymore, I’m going to stop with the spoilers, suffice to say that it soon becomes clear that you are operating outside the confines of a conventional story. This means that it becomes increasingly tricky to predict how things are going to pan out, and how and when the game ends. And the developers have made no effort to conceal this, stating quite openly in the game’s FAQs that the game does have multiple endings, “but not in a way someone would expect…”
For the amount of sadness and pathos found in Until Then, it’s quite remarkable that things never descend into cheap mawkishness. The writers demonstrate restraint and a willingness to make the player work for the story, rather than to just throw signposted emotional cues their way. This is a feature of some of the best books, shows, films and games, and Until Then is wholly deserving of being spoken in the same breath as those.
‘I wish I could play the game for the first time again’
When I finally finished Until Then (I won’t tell you how many endings later), and the game confirmed that fact, I was reminded of the dream-like sequence in the game is captured in the screen grab above. It was the second time I sat numbly looking at the screen wondering if I could have done anything differently. Or if I would have done anything differently were I playing it again for the first time. Would it have even made a difference?
Looking back on the game beyond its story, characters, twists and moments of refreshing levity, I do feel like the game could use a patch for some very tiny glitches that caused my game to lock up on me, requiring a restart. I also feel like some of the minigames could use slightly tweaked controls. But beyond those minor quibbles, I find it very hard to fault the game. Sure, I would have liked the ability to make decisions that would result in different outcomes, but that would be a different game.
In a year that’s already shaping up as another great one for games (but again, and for different reasons, not necessarily those making them), Until Then stakes a serious claim to being one of the most memorable games released, and in my book, a perfect game. Now unlike the folks over at Polychroma Games, I don’t have another ending to offer you. So this is where I’ll sign off and urge you to pick up the game as soon as you can.
Game reviewed on PlayStation 5. Review code provided by publisher