The Indie Informer

I suspect Sorry We’re Closed‘s introduction is all you need to see to decide whether its a game for you — despite its lack of devilish, bloody combat. The curtain opens on an opulent scene looming over the slow, quiet, decaying death of love.

Too quickly, our view cuts to Michelle — our hero — distractedly listening to the romantic grumblings of a fellow down-on-their-luck misfit while she stands behind the counter, chained to her shabby nine-to-five without the means to escape. Luckily — and not so luckily — the time to close approaches. It’s the beat of a drum that resonates deep inside me, and it compels me to march on into the ominous unknown.

With only a little over an hour under my belt of the game, I don’t have a ton of experience with the combat, which has been divisive. I’m still wrestling with the old-school survival horror mechanics. I don’t love that I can’t move and aim, but I appreciate the puzzle-like approach which allows me to show a monster’s weakness when close. Hitting a snarling creature right in the heart for the kill feels like winning a victory — though getting there can be a bit cumbersome. However, the narrative setup, supporting visuals, and fever-dream verisimilitude are impeccable.

The characters, besides being unfortunately relatable as they struggle against capitalistic loneliness, embody a style I’ve decided to call Grunge-Gorgeous. From the clerk across the street to my apartment neighbors, every story NPC I run into would fit in flawlessly with the godly cast of Hades — if only they would scape the glistening layer of grime off first.

Beautiful and soiled, like most everything in the game, Michelle plods away from her job to her crummy apartment, barely managing to put dirty dishes in the sink before letting sleep consume her. The harshly humble surroundings serve an amazing contrast for the horrific fantasy I’m about to stumble into.

Even when I have more of the game behind me, I don’t think I’ll be able to clearly describe the plot’s twists and turns. Mostly because these are intentionally painted with a wildly dreamy brush. It’s not so divorced from reality, however, that it loses me. I run in genuine fear when my life seems to be in danger. I reluctantly move Michelle through spaces and towards figures that raise my hackles. I stop to admire soaring flashes of beauty as magnificent artworks dot oppressive hallways.

Michelle has been, abruptly and unasked for, torn into a world larger than she may be able to handle — pitted between forces that could crush her easily. Though I am wholeheartedly rooting for her, I can’t yet see how she’ll escape Sorry We’re Closed unscathed. And that I care so much despite my short playtime leaves me optimistic that — no matter the outcome — I’ll admire the path that brings me to my fate.