The term “corporate overlord” is usually used in jest. We recognize how much power these inhuman entities have over us, but we’ve yet to reach the point where our waking hours are dictated by their whims. In Monochroma, we see a vision of a city in which this term has reached its terrifying potential. The fear of losing your freedom is palpable, communicated through the emptiness of the cityscape, the bleakness of the visual design, and the unceasing rain washing away any semblance of hope. It’s unfortunate, then, that the plight of one boy striving to break free of this citywide prison–filled with puzzling barriers–is overshadowed by something as mundane as technical failings. Monochroma conjures frustration instead of empathy, undermining the intriguing premise set in the early going.

There are no words in Monochroma, no dialogue to explain what has happened to your home. Rather, the story is told through 2D imagery, so questions are left dangling in the air, and you must decide what caused such unrest. During the early hours, I scoured the backdrop looking for pieces to explain what had happened. There are robots stationed in people’s homes. Though originally intended as consumer companions, they may have risen in revolt as robots so often do. But I found no such violence when I encountered one. So I could only wonder why the people had left, or if they had been killed by the corporation performing experiments in their factories. Who knows the answer? As the game progressed, my interest waned as supernatural elements were introduced. What was once a gripping allegory of our own society became a fantastical leap to something I couldn’t relate to.