A Death of One Million Papercuts
Warning: this is not a review. This is a witch hunt. You will find a score at the end of all this which reflects my opinion, but I can’t be bothered to genuinely critique a game which has ignited a small hell in my soul. Some may question why I have scored Nine Parchments higher than ClusterPuck 99 and Spelunker Party!, and I don’t intend to explain myself. I only plan to drag this abomination with me into eternal damnation.
Nine Parchment’s ultimate sin is it convinces you it could be a solid game during its opening hours. Like a deal with the Devil, you enjoy your end of the bargain until you find yourself on the wrong end of a soldering-iron colonoscopy. As with my other negative reviews, I recognize the hard work of the developers, but I can’t and won’t acknowledge this game as anything more than a boundless cesspool of excrement. For brevity’s sake, I have condensed my overflowing hatred into ten biting complaints.
The 10 Layers of Hell
1.
Leave it to a pestilent mess to attract glitches and bugs. These foul critters infect online gameplay and tend to halt your progress entirely, either because an enemy retreated to safety through solid rock or a bug cockblocks you from advancing because the game doesn’t recognize you destroyed all enemies. On hardcore mode, these flaws can lead to a premature game over, causing permadeath to gut you of all your progress. If you’re lucky, the bugs can kick you out a game or prevent you from joining entirely, meaning you don’t actually have to play.
2.
Like a purgatory in which “It’s a Small World” plays on repeat, Nine Parchments’ gameplay delights in repetition and mundanity. Apart from the blissful but rare reprieves of boss battles, your adventure boils down to jumping from open area to open area to fight a smorgasbord of enemies. This formula might remind you of the cathartic mindlessness of Gauntlet, but after this formula is force-fed by catheter over 33 levels, you notice how achingly dull the game can be.
3.
Although repetition gnaws at you like a starved chihuahua, a poor combat system is the equivalent of drowning in rabid Saint Bernard saliva. We begin with the targeting system, the first Cujo. In the traditional twin-stick shooter, your accuracy depends on your skill and reflexes, but Nine Parchments chooses to guide your spells. You need to at least aim in the general direction of monsters, but once you do so, the targeting system locks onto moving objects in the following order: the enemy three stages over, your teammates, and finally the creature currently shaving the top two layers off your face. Understandably, this system works only for those who like to play the long game in short battles or absolutely hate friendship.
4.
Imbalanced spells and playstyles further drag on the combat. Fire, ice, and death spells all come in high demand, offering substantial damage and side effects. Lightning, meanwhile, is only strong against a rare species of steam enemies and is highly liable to electrocute your teammates to death. Meanwhile, melee is really only viable with one character, Nim, and although physical damage can massacre typical monsters, it’s virtually useless against bosses.
5.
The spells, themselves, become a nuisance once you’ve accrued six or more. Because you gain spells semi-randomly, you’ll collect a few worthless/weaker powers. You can’t get rid of these spells, so they’ll clog up your spell wheel in the heat of battle. Additionally, Nine Parchments seems to favor players who collect a variety of spell elements. The fire or ice purists will find themselves powerless against enemies of the same element but just as vulnerable to fire/ice-based attacks. You can theoretically rely on your team during these moments, but unless you have a backup of other spells, you’ll be sitting useless for more than a few battles.
6.
To break apart the monotony, Nine Parchments implements an achievement system through which you can unlock new characters and variants. Your tasks can range from the simple (visit every level) to the highly luck-based which you may or may not ever attain. One achievement tasks you with completing a fight on hardcore difficulty in five seconds. With a full team, monsters swarm you like crabs on an unwashed banana, so good luck even finishing anything under 10 seconds. You could go solo for a better chance, but that’s like playing catch by yourself: theoretically possible but infinitely sad.
7.
Certain achievements ask you to complete a mission found only in a specific level. For instance, to unlock an alt version of Gislan, you must escort a brainless, frail lamb across Stage 21 on hardcore difficulty. This damnable animal dies to a passing breeze, and once it’s deceased, that’s it. No retries. To redo the trial, you restart a run and slog your way back to Stage 21. An average run in Nine Parchments can take around 5-6 hours, so it’s ludicrous that it doesn’t have a level select. I understand it’s an accomplishment to complete a hardcore run in one go, but why can’t I unlock a level select once I’ve beaten a hardcore run? What megalomaniac has forced me to repeatedly eat this entire dish called Nine Parchments when I only want a side of corn?
8.
After repeated playthroughs, the graphics and music lose their luster. Frostbyte manages to produce a perfectly presentable fantasy setting embedded in the Trine universe, and some of the backgrounds are quite luscious and inspired. However, the actual play areas look flat, pockmarked only by some foliage, water, or refuse. As such, Nine Parchments will seem, at best, a showcase of Trine’s favorite floors and, at worst, a terrifying amalgamation of childhood traumas known and unknown. The music is equally unoriginal, tinkling with whimsy and bravado that screams, “I’M FANTASY, GOD DAMN IT.”
9.
Comparatively, the story does its best to completely avoid the spotlight, so much so that the character themselves seem confused as to what they’re doing. Essentially, a lich queen has a vendetta against Hogwarts and kind of blows up the building, so it’s up to a bunch of struggling students to collect six parchments (not nine because why would you think that?) and murder that stupid lich. The rest of the story is carried by snarky, empty quips between characters at the beginning of each level. When you do finally beat the final boss, you’re treated to a cutscene with Dumbledore thanking the students before sending them off. That’s it. Your fanfare is the equivalent of getting a C+ on an essay the professor didn’t read.
10.
We end with a complaint that may seem trivial: you can’t completely unlock your skills sets. Characters cap at level 60, which provides enough skill points to reach the most powerful attributes on two trees while ignoring the third. This minor issue reflects the bigger problem present in Nine Parchments: it places arbitrary restrictions on your enjoyment. If I invest 10 hours into one character, why can’t I parade around like an overpowered sorcerer of the universe? Let my hard work amount to something other than a flaccid cutscene. Be it the finicky targeting system, the limp story, the random spell system, or the lack of a level select, Nine Parchments seems intent to bleed dry your enjoyment the more you play.
What’s the verdict?
A reviewer should balance objective analysis with subjective commentary, generating a score that gives general guidance to readers. My hatred for this game could burn ulcers in my stomach, but the cold, emotionless part of me recognizes that others have enjoyed Nine Parchments. Of the four others in my gaming group who played this, two took 20 hours before they loathed it, and the other two still have fun. Although I hold only contempt for this hell spawn, I will give one piece of advice for those interested in a multiplayer dungeon-crawler: play through it once and then delete it promptly. It’s shit all the way down from there.
Arbitrary Statistics:
- Score: 6
- Time Played: Over 30 hours
- Number of Players: 1-4 (Both locally and online)
- Games Like It on Switch: Hammerwatch, Diablo III: Eternal Collection