Ashen review - a soulful journey through a sublime ruined world
The surface world's packs of club-wielding vagrants give way, here, to more treacherous breeds of foe. Skeletons who lunge from their dust as you pass (in a masterful bit of risk-reward design, you can shatter them with one blow if you catch them mid-resurrection), and wraiths who evaporate on contact only to pounce from the blackness. Wall-crawlers with peeled-open chests who lurk below ledges, popping up behind you with an easily-missed slither of flesh. All these violent delights plus yet more giants, silhouetted near corridor mouths or looming in the stark but short-ranged glare of your lantern - unhelpfully, given the perils of dodging with deadfalls to either side, you can't hold the latter and a shield at the same time. It took me a couple hours to bumble through that wondrous nightmare to the cavern at the area's base, where the abundance of space felt positively decadent. It's probably the finest dungeon environment I've set foot in this year.
The eponymous Ashen is a massive bird whose luminous plumage supplies the game's world with a sun. As the story begins the creature has been dead for many years, its skull lolling over the horizon like a crashed starship, but its resurrection is at hand. Your task is to purge the various evils who have festered over decades of night, from malicious spirits underground to the bandit tribes and giants who roam the wastes. In the process you'll also found a settlement, as characters you meet return to the starting area and build dwellings, smithies and breweries while you're off clobbering nasties. If the function of the village is to let you tweak and upgrade your equipment while unlocking sidequests that further expand your crafting options, the pleasure of it is watching the community grow. In the course of 20 hours or so, patches of broken stone give way to floorboards and tapestries, scaffolds to peaked roofs, and the soundscape fills with the clatter and murmur of everyday existence.
Similar things can be said about the stripped-down combat and character development. There are no character stats to manage save for health and stamina, which are raised by completing specific quests and finding certain items. Weapons can be upgraded ad nauseam, but there's no scaling of weapon strength by character stat, and no myriad of elemental strengths or impact types - just the choice of damage dealt, stagger potential and chance of a critical hit. You can equip two at once, a one-handed weapon for quick attacks and a two-hander for skull-splitting finishers, plus a shield and throwing spears. It's the Souls progression path boiled back to the marrow, and while I'd have appreciated a wider range of character builds, Ashen's relative shortness means you don't really have time to get bored. For those in search of more flavour, Talismans and Relics serve as eccentric character modifiers. One causes wings to grow from your back, increasing your XP gain per kill till the wings are fully grown, whereupon they'll reflect a portion of damage back at your attacker. Others let you hit harder when you strike from behind, or increase your health the further you travel from the village.
That's when your allies permit this, anyway. Ashen is a lot easier than it perhaps should be because you're always accompanied by one of your villagers, each armed with their own gear, healing gourd and the ability to revive you. While slightly prone to strolling into pits, the AI is very capable in a brawl; it also knows each area's layout in advance, zipping along paths you can't even see to steamroll enemies you've barely noticed. The result is that you're occasionally denied the chance to really put the combat mechanics through their paces. The AI does generally let you make the first move, but I've won too many fights by kicking the wasp's nest and putting up token resistance while the computer channels its inner Legolas.
You can, in fairness, find a Relic that lets you wander alone, and there's an additional twist: your ally may in fact be another player, slyly introduced via background matchmaking. I wasn't able to infiltrate anybody's game or be infiltrated in turn during my playthrough, but then again, there don't seem to be any explicit signs that other players are present. For all I know I've had human company throughout. It lends a certain existential undercurrent to the game's character design, with faces left eerily featureless save for the odd touch of beard, as though everybody had evolved to live without eyes and mouths over the centuries of darkness. The game takes its cue again from Journey here, but in lumbering you with an ally throughout, it spoils the latter's sense of mystery. Part of the reason Journey's multiplayer encounters are so strange and compelling, after all, is that you aren't paired with anybody by default.

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