Roguelikes are bent toward the demolition of player moral. Permadeath, where you’re wiped out and must start over from scratch, is core tenant. Modern roguelikes have played with this principle, usually allowing some form of indistinct progression. With an investment in (or even a basic measure of) progress, less tempered players shouldn’t feel alienated. In any case, these ideas have been tested to great effect many times, as roguelikes and/or roguelites have flourished over the last five years.
In its opening, Necropolis carefully mimics a roguelike’s template. Ten procedurally generated levels house scores of randomly deployed enemies, and death is a complete reset with one exception; by completing different goals, skill points can be earned. Skill points can be spent to unlock codexes, which essentially act as passive buffs, and provide different options to modify successive runs.
Codexes are where Necropolis starts creating its problems. The game’s maladroit sense of humor and inability to take itself seriously translates directly into its myriad of codexes. You don’t receive an accurate description of what each one does, just impolitic text like “Man I ain’t hungry, I already ate three weeks ago,” for the “Eating is overrated” codex. This does nothing and helps no one. You’re forced to buy a codex that sounds like it might be useful and pray you’re somehow able to figure out what it actually does. There is nothing wrong with a game that demands learning by engagement, but Necropolis’ affection for trite writing and its inability to effectively communicate itself felt like it was deliberately wasting my time.
Dark Souls’ influence is felt the moment you pick up a controller because the controls are almost identical. Light and heavy attacks with each hand are attached to the triggers. Dodging is the circle button. Square consumes your current item. Run with the analog stick clicked in. Pressing left and right on the d-pad even cycles through equipment. Necropolis isn’t shy about its influence, and honestly, the idea of a full game built around Bloodbourne’s procedurally generated chalice dungeons is appealing. Unfortunately for Necropolis, it doesn’t all come together so well.
A passive (but nevertheless popular) read of Dark Souls promotes difficulty as paramount to its experience. This isn’t completely without merit—Dark Souls is hard—but the means by which it achieves its characterization isn’t earned through cheap thrills. Pieces can feel obtuse, but it isn’t designed to take advantage of the player. Every aspect has purpose, and each piece can be defeated with preparation. Balance is maintained.
Necropolis’ position is understandable, but its performance isn’t able to match its influence. It is content to deploy enemies with reckless abandon. They’re huddled and grouped around every corner and, occasionally, spawned in behind you. Most of them are relatively stupid, and are subject to terse kiting and a careful application of your own shield. Invincibility frames are also your friend, although the dodge mechanic feels a bit too rigid to be reliable. When none of that works, shield-bashing an opponent into crippling oblivion usually prevails.
Necropolis has more in common with a Musou game than any calm and considered attempt at level construction and enemy engagement. You’re not fighting opponents, you’re processing content. Complexity is replaced by escalation. Every one of your actions relies on an endurance meter, and depleting it doesn’t indicate a call the change your tactics, but rather a maneuver to cower away and allow it to replenish. The whole of Necropolis operates without much sophistication, seemingly unable to understand that procedural generation isn’t complete replacement for meaningful, designed content.
Attempts at variety are forged through Necropolis’ loot system. Vanquished enemies will drop weapons and occasionally different pieces of armor. The weapons are all measured by tiers, and it’s typical to pick up at least two decent weapons per floor. Maces and broadswords were preferable to their shorter, quicker counterparts, but largely subservient to their tier rating. Crossbows and bombs provide ranged options in place of a shield. A higher tier number is always better, which, at least, does well to induce the player into trying out different weapons and styles. Enemies in Necropolis also drop a considerable number of materials ripe for crafting, which either can provide helpful buffs or health replenishment.
A sputtering technical performance doesn’t help Necropolis’ crumbling abilities. Player feedback isn’t given much consideration, as little attention is paid to the fidelity of strikes and collision. There’s no weight to hitting enemies, and, other than utilizing the charge attack, no immediate way to sense what kind of effect you’re having. Necropolis is also content to drop frames and highly inconvenient times, doubling down on frustrating moments that shouldn’t be frustrating. I am sure this was not done intentionally, but it all builds into a general malaise about the final product. Necropolis feels like it doesn’t care about what sort of experience the player is having.
Friends can try and band together to save Necropolis. Its dungeon is playable by up to four people, although this comes with a handful of its own caveats. Friendly fire, which your opponents are also subject to, has the capability to wreck an otherwise enjoyable adventure. I understand the risk, but where’s the reward? You can, however, resurrect your buddies and keep their gear intact if you get to them in time. Anything is usually better with friends, and in the case of Necropolis, multiple people working against the same set of problems tends to make the experience a little smoother. At least there’s a means to fight back against (real or perceived) inequality.
I wish Necropolis were better. Extracting pieces of Souls and plugging them into a roguelike is a fine idea that, unfortunately, goes on to be kneecapped by weak execution. No one needs their games to be nurturing or complimentary, but the decency to spotlight meaningful content and abandon waste is a manner Necropolis could stand to learn. If you’re not going to take your game seriously, why should I?
