The previous assumption begins with Eufloria’s most attractive and inviting asset; art. I don’t care to debate or drone about the merits of gaming’s potential in the realm of expression, but Euphoria’s simple yet elegant visual style screams louder than its concept or mechanics. PixelJunk Eden is the obvious comparison, but its feel bears greater resemblance to a game like flOw. A lot of what makes Eufloria special happens on a micro, almost detached level and the indulgence in observation can only be rewarded through a proficiency in operation. In other words, you need to know what the hell you’re doing before you can appreciate what’s happening. Thankfully, after about a half hour, I discovered Euphoria wasn’t as opaque as my E3 encounter suggested.
Euphoria is a real-time strategy game. Harmless bits of narrative cover the how and why, but the gist of it grants the player control of countless benevolent seedlings that like to inhabit circles in space known as asteroids. Ten seedlings can be consumed into creating Dyson trees on an asteroid, which, in turn, can crank out more seedlings. Depth is added through the various attributes nestled in the production output of each asteroid; speed, energy, and strength of various values signify the different types of seedlings your asteroid will produce. The point of Eufloria is to live long and prosper, or, mechanically speaking, take over all the asteroids on the map while losing fewer seedlings than the rogue force trying to do the same thing.
Transport is Eufloria’s means of creating conflict. Dyson trees on asteroids inevitably hit a seedling production capacity, at which point you’ll have to shuffle them off to other asteroids. My modus operandi was to take over a few asteroids and slowly create a feeding hub for my various seedling factory asteroids. When I felt I had an appropriate number of seedlings generated, I directed them to the nefarious opposition and watched them outnumber and destroy the inhabitants of the asteroid until they were able to completely drain the asteroid’s energy and claim it as their own. And then I built more trees, and then I repeated the process.
In an age when no RTS seems satisfied without layering complexity upon complexity, it’s initially distressing that Eufloria seems more interested in letting go than piling on. Once your seedlings are dispensed to the opposition all you can do is sit back and watch the show. The winner emerges from a numbers game, and those with the better stats or more overwhelming presence will have better odds at snatching victory. Zooming the camera onto the asteroid and watching the battle play out in real time, complete with seedlings zipping and zapping about, is oddly satisfying – assuming your plan actually works.
That’s not to say Eufloria’s simplicity is mindless, as it’s quick to introduce a minor addition to each of its 25 levels. At first, some defense systems on rogue asteroids seem to swallow and destroy your seedlings, until you realize seedlings produced with speed in mind, rather than strength or energy, are fast enough to zip right by them. Soon, Eufloria really hums along when you’re granted the ability to terraform your asteroid by sacrificing seedlings to increase a value of one of that asteroid’s attributes. Other nifty tricks make their presence known, but the game never drowns you in complexity.
RTS on a console arrives with the limitation of being bound to a controller, but Eufloria actually manages a Dual Shock quite well. Again, simplicity works in its favor, and after a brief period of adjustment I was easily selecting asteroids with the right stick and zooming in and out with the shoulder buttons like a pro. Sometimes the camera seemed uninterested in centering areas I considered in need of immediate attention, but it wasn’t that big of a deal.
The central issue of Eufloria’s premise is an identity that doesn’t completely mesh with its design. The ambient soundtrack seems perfect for Eufloria’s simplistic interface. In theory, you’re just supposed to go with the flow and chill while your master plan comes to fruition. This idea is also supported with Eufloria’s lack of an identifiable climax, as the crux of a battle seemed to happen at no set point. Winning, or doing what winds up as the hardest part of a level, early seems nice until you realize the lethargic pace at which the game crawls as you mop up what’s left. By its nature Eufloria is a slow game, and even with a fast forward button I found levels clocking in at no less than a half hour.
But as I pressed on with Eufloria, I began by treating it more like a Petri dish than a relaxing vacation. I started the game by destroying my opponents with pure numbers, and when I got bored of that I began to see how few were required to win. Eventually I started turning all of my seedlings into speed freaks just to see if that would even work, and it usually did. With the exception of a few sequences with my enemy preyed and swarmed on a mostly deserted asteroid (which was absolutely terrifying), Eufloria wasn’t concerned with putting up a fight. This changed dramatically in the games closing levels, making me wonder why the developers chose to save the best for last rather than spread the challenge evenly.
A lack of clarity might wind up pushing Eufloria from a sleeper hit to a beloved niche title. Oddly the game’s general ambiguity and simplicity works in its favor, but the byproducts of its design create confusion. The erratic pacing and omnipresent waiting are flaws rooted deep within Eufloria’s structure, which makes the game feel like a great first effort with a few problems the team couldn’t manage to iron out. There is a certain appeal in playing a raw product that doesn’t concern itself with everyone but I didn’t quite make it all the way into that group.
Want to hear more about Eufloria? Check out Episode 40 of Flap Jaw Space: The Digital Chumps podcast.
