The Indie Informer

Don’t go into Europa expecting simply a game. No, this is a mood, a flowing, wonderous commune with the clouds. That doesn’t mean the gameplay is lacking in any way. I’ve soared through a few hours of the experience so far and each level introduces and builds on creative, fresh elements.

And I simply can not overstate how otherworldly stunning every moment of the journey is — the hand drawn characters and lush backgrounds might be the most enchanting of the year. The gleaming veneer is stalked by a needling mystery, however. Unraveling it will probably mean piercing the game’s beauty and my heart with a shadowy bolt from the blue.

Levitating, hovering, and soaring through a cloud-embraced world of wide green fields is possible through an apparatus on my back, called — fittingly enough — a Zephyr. It was made by my maker, as the hero of this story is an android crafted to look like a child, but I’m alone. Or, at least there are no humans around.

My creator’s voice speaks to me via a journal he left behind. Though the opening entries are full of hope and delight, it hints something may be wrong. The tome urges me to travel to a floating island off in the distance. That’s easy to understand. But I quickly form questions about what it doesn’t say.

Where is the writer? When was this book written? Why are there so many ruins around? How come some of the planet’s terraforming AI look long-abandoned? What will I find when I reach my suspended objective?

Troubling thoughts soon drift from my mind in the face of the game’s buoyant traversal. I leap into the air and propel myself to heights that make all the problems of the ground seem small. By collecting special crystals, my Zephyr’s capacity grows, letting me linger longer in the skies.

There is no direct combat, but not everything is peaceful. Environmental puzzles take smart advantage of my fluttering abilities, with cubes that disappear as I jump, require me to reach a certain height, or leap up and slam down to light several lanterns.

As I push farther, the world gets more hostile. Jutting purple gems disable my flight-giving mechanism and leave me to navigate the world on foot. Some landscapes house long-range cannon that will automatically aim to shoot me out of the sky. Then there are flocks of robotic jammers ready to swoop down and pluck me out if the air.

That the game is so full of light makes the moments of danger all the more effecting. It feels wrong to see a war machine scaring a grassy knoll visited by grazing deer. It’s almost startling to run into a purple gem and hear its cacophonous crackle. These give all the tension of combat without making me into a fighting machine.

All the abundant liveliness of its opening is worth picking up Europa. However, it’s the growing suspicion of some looming darkness that draws me to push forward on swift wings.