One of my biggest gripes with current discussion about art, may that be video games, movies, or anything else, is the tendency to disregard style. I don’t want to generalize this statement too much because, of course, this is not a universal sentiment, but I’ve found that largely people have become more interested in what the story is rather than how it is presented. It bothers me because I believe style is extremely important. It’s why, almost eight years later, we still talk about small details like Persona 5’s (2016) menu screens. It’s why, for better or for worse, God of War (2018) feels so different from God of War (2005) even before you get to the differences in writing. It’s why people get hyped the moment they see Kojima’s name on a game. “All style, no substance” they say, not realizing that, of course, style IS substance. I wanted to start this review by emphasizing the importance I personally place on style in a work of art because the tactical third-person puzzle-shooter Children of the Sun, developed by René Rother and published by Devolver Digital, is one of the most stylish games I’ve ever played. And it blew me away in large part because of that.
Every time you start a level, you’re greeted with a simplistic landscape backlit by the burning sun, covering everything in its orange light that accentuates the neon pinks and purples glowing from within every inch of this nightmarish dreamscape. The only thing standing out are the cult members in bold yellow uniforms, like a big street sign that’s practically begging you to shoot them. And so you do. You scout just how many souls you’ll be taking this time around and find the most stylish way to kill them all, level by level.
But this isn’t some random third-person shooter in which you spray endless bullets into every direction, some of which hit their target but most of which fly off into the endless darkness. You have one bullet that will have to be enough to kill them all with precision and expertise. And the moment you press the trigger, you become the bullet. You fly through the air at a thousand miles an hour, the wind brushing by you, screaming into your ear with all the torment and despair of your previous targets. On impact, the blood spurts out of them, obfuscating your field of view. Not that you care; you’re already locking on to your next victim. As you progress, the enemies start taking up shields, putting on armor, anything to protect themselves from you. Not that it matters in the face of your rage.
The girl is filled with endless burning anger. And who could blame her? As we find out between levels, though beautifully illustrated images that pop with color as much as the rest of the game, the cult took everything from her, leaving nothing but a husk of a masked woman behind with one goal and one goal only: kill the leader. While that sounds simple on paper, exploding one brain after the other becomes rather convoluted in practice. Any time you kill someone, you can re-aim your bullet; hitting the correct body parts even allows you to re-aim your bullet mid-air eventually. An absolute necessity, as you need to navigate your bullet through entire apartment complexes in later stages of Children of the Sun.
As I hope I’ve been able to visualize earlier, Children of the Sun looks absolutely striking, as well as scoring with some outstanding sound design. It blasts the consequences of your actions right into your face, whether that is the screeching of your bullet flying to the air or the loud, noisy boom and scratchy guitar riff that accompanies a giant DEAD sign maniacally glitching across your screen any time you finish a level. Children of the Sun is loud, it’s abrasive, it’s noxious, and… it’s incredibly beautiful and satisfying. It’s a game that channels the most deep-seated hatred into sheer acts of violence through the undeniable power of impeccable stylization. And man… violence has never felt so good.
Nairon reviewed Children of the Sun on PC with a review copy.
