There’s nothing as brain torturing here as Zelda’s grandest interlocking conundrums, and I was rarely unsure what to do for more than a few seconds. Its only real departure from the old formula is the dual character dynamic, especially when you need to split Sam and John up, controlling one at a time so they can approach puzzles from different directions. If this sounds familiar, that’s because Eastward also draws on Zelda: A Link to the Past for inspiration (and even Breath of the Wild in a couple of cases, such as its cooking mini-game). These offensive options, along with bombs and a few other weapons John acquires, double up as puzzle-solving devices, helping you hit switches and pressure pads or break obstacles to forge a path forward. Sam can shoot an energy missile that freezes enemies in place just long enough for John to give them a good panning.
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Plus he owns a frying pan, which he uses for cooking but also for deflecting projectiles and knocking hell out of monsters with quiet gusto. John is the muscle, an RPG workhorse always ready to dive into scraps or get his hands dirty.
Usually, when you’re outside of settlements – in caves, forests and abandoned ruins – you directly control one and the other tucks in close behind, but you can switch the lead at any time to call on their unique talents. The contrast between them pulls them together in endearing mutual dependency, like a sweeter version of Joel and Ellie from The Last of Us. Sam, conversely, is an enthusiastic duckling, draped in an over-sized jumper and framed by her mane of white hair. As he ambles with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his face obscured by facial hair, who can say what he thinks about anything, if he does much at all. The other is her adoptive father, John, who’s as unremarkable as his name suggests – like a silent, muddy lumberjack, whose only parental instinct seems to be that of physical protection. That child is Sam, herself the plot’s central enigma, and half of a delightful duo of player characters. And since the main speaking character is a child, Eastward shares Earthbound’s playful bravado and wide-eyed wonder. Taking place in a civilisation budding from the ruins of our own – or something like it – everyday routines and oddball personalities rub against mysterious conspiratorial powers and technologies. There’s another SNES classic at the heart of the game, too, as Eastward holds high fantasy at arm’s length, ushering in a mix of ordinary and bizarre that’s reminiscent of Nintendo’s Earthbound (there’s also a bonus 8-bit turn-based RPG within the game called Earth Born, which is presumably a reference). Yet the nature and furniture in Eastward still feel like they’ve emerged from bulky grey cartridges that measure their worlds in megabits. There’s technological prowess poking through its scene of sun-kissed wheat bristling around a village of junked ships, or the efficient characterisation of a man in rags who nervously pokes a hand through a hole in his shirt. Eastward looks more sumptuous than they ever did, with its dynamic lighting, HD detail and plethora of animated NPCs. In particular, that pixel art (and accompanying eclectic soundtrack) took me back to Square’s SNES triumphs, Final Fantasy VI and Secret of Mana. Much of my initial delight stemmed from the palpable 90s vibe seeping through the experience, from bulbous headed villagers loitering outside their homes, to the wibble-wibble squeaks that stand in for their speech. There is plenty to love about Eastward, however, most of it skilfully built on lessons learned from the golden age of 2D JRPGs. As it turns out, developer Pixpil hadn’t dissolved those big narrative lumps so much as punted them down the track, where they waited to ambush me with a vengeance. If only I could have sustained that sense of anticipation and excitement, but it wasn’t to be.
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