Neva follows Nomada Studios' ethos laid out by Gris, telling an equally captivating, thematic tale with a remarkable art style that, while short, will certainly linger on the mind long after credits roll.
Like the changing seasons it is framed by, Neva is equal parts beautiful, cyclical, and unpredictable.
Alba, the sole protagonist exists as the lonely human in a world otherwise teeming with life and color. The only other humanoid-like beings are the inky black enemies that wear white masks for faces. Their dark, murky presence and violent nature is a stark contrast to the dense foliage and vibrant tones of the world.
Nomada Studio–whose previous work was the artful catharsis of Gris–does not diverge from the path it has set out. While there is cross-pollination of key themes, the developer has cemented their remarkable use of color and artistry as an apex point in the medium.
Neva‘s through-line is relatively straightforward. Our journey begins with our caped heroine standing strong against an immovable deluge against the formless, liquid-like shadow creatures. Her companion, a towering wolf-like beast with antlers fights by her side. But any chance of victory is fleeting as the noble creature is felled, with Alba awakening to its lifeless body after being knocked unconscious. And we see a small wolf pup worryingly nuzzle its mother, slowly succumbing to the truth.
Emotionally manipulative is a dangerous turn of phrase, one that implies insincerity. But when those triumphant and heartbreaking moments are bookended by Berlinist’s score full of soft piano and sweeping strings, one can’t help but feel a gut punch.
Neva is a completely honest piece of art.
While its themes are worn on the shoulder quite glaringly, Neva shines as a moderately interpretive work where the player is weaving themselves between breathtaking scenery and brief punches of environmental storytelling. Like many of the best story-focused platformers, Nomada does not direct the player left or right when movement is handed over. Neva‘s initial prompt is to press a button–triangle on PlayStation 5–to wake Neva, the young orphaned pup curled up next to Alba.
Instincts forged over the decades instinctually call me to head right–the correct way–but I go left. Neva follows me and eventually stops to take a brief snack from the ripe fruit that has fallen from a tree. But looking back on the 5ish hour journey that encompasses the totality of Neva, the idea of simply moving forward is one dictated by the unflinching progression of Summer into Fall into Winter into Spring. The game begins with our companions walking through an open field only to be waylaid by an unknowable force. The journey that ensues is a continuation of those opening moments.
There is purpose to the player’s time in Neva but it is one that, while not nebulous, is meant to be mostly unstated. The first inclination towards a kind of goal is that Alba is meant to combat these dark forces, which slowly begin to creep their way into the scenery after a few minutes of platforming and exploration. As the player moves forward, Neva follows. But the young animal is only a fraction of the size of its mother and struggles to fully leap over wide gaps.
Anyone who has ever truly loved a pet–especially a dog–is going to feel that love and stewardship over Neva. Take it from me, someone who experienced emotional devastation during The Last Guardian, Neva can feel like the cold steel of a knife plunging into your heart but also as warm as the blood rushing through your veins.
No part of me thought that Neva would open with players subtly teaching basic traversal to a young animal, wondering if this was a game about fostering a companion’s powers including our own. But Nomada smartly integrates narrative progression without hammering it over the player’s head.
Initially Neva is moderately helpless, unsure about their surroundings and infrequently overtaken by the evil forces, leaving Alba to rescue them. At one point, the two become separated and the player can press the “Neva button” to call out for Neva with desperate panic. Over the course of the game, calling out to Neva becomes second nature, as does paying attention to Alba’s situational tone when shouting or calmly whispering the name. It is also a button used to give affection and encourage, though players who have crafted a bond with Neva may press it more than mechanically required. But throughout the changing seasons, Neva brims with confidence and new powers.
While one or two additional “moves” are granted to the player as a balm for Neva’s growth, the basics are simply that. Alba can slash her sword, double jump, dodge, dive downward with a stab, and dash in mid-air. Unless players are experimenting themselves, Nomada gently shoves these revelations through a handful of increasingly challenging moments that result in pleasant pockets of navigation challenges. Often these are meant to reward with optional collectibles but a few times Neva features brisk nail-biters.
Cinematic spectacle runs rampant in Neva as the camera often pulls back to encompass a massive piece of scenery, shrinking the player down to a small dot on the screen. Other times a chase will ensue that tests responsiveness while heightening tension.
As the game is brief in its runtime, wasted moments are nonexistent. Impatient players may grow weary at extended sequences of walking and jumping through the lush Summertime woods but it is meant as a contrast to the decaying chaos of the Fall and the complexities and danger of Winter. While Nomada employs a few similar tricks here and there for when a player may mid-air dash through toxic vines, the only repetitious content is the combat.
Using only a handful of enemy types, Neva is meant to get players in and out of combat scenarios feeling pressure and trepidation but little more. Alba has a 3-slash combo before needing a brief pause. Most enemies of any size have attacks that are telegraphed and meant to be dodged through or moved away from. Even though these encounters are brief and often clever, they aren’t the primary driving factor of Neva and therefore the only source of potential tedium.
When reviewing, there is a tendency to speak too much. After all, one must talk about the intricacies of a game to justify a recommendation. But Neva is best left as a game to go in perhaps with as little expectations as possible. I am tempted to offer up many of the poignant or inventive moments of the game as proof that it is a true masterpiece. Yet doing so would rob the player of a moment carefully set up by Nomada.
Additionally, it is impossible to describe in words the astounding beauty present in Neva.
Anyone who has played Gris should understand what Neva is capable of. But where Gris was more bold colored inks on parchment, Neva is watercolor impressionism bleeding onto the screen.
Nearly every shot in Neva is meant for a frame. This is a fantastical world blossoming with vegetation and danger. And Nomada is careful to often blend the scenery as if Claude Monet was on the art team, zooming out or moving in as the scene dictates.
The color work in Neva is perhaps one of the most exceptionally profound artstyles that can be found in a game that isn’t named Gris or The Witness. Blacks are not only used to present danger and terror but isolation and claustrophobia. White can spread like water blooming on a dry piece of paper, meant to represent fog and intentionally obscuring where the player is meant to go but never to the point of confusion.
Breathing in the icy blues of Winter and how Nomada plays with reflections becomes a stark contrast in the bleak grays of the season’s final blizzard. And my god the way reds are used in Neva as a transfusion of sunsets and otherworldly, alien confusion.
If there is a color on the spectrum, Neva has a moment gripping it tight and splashing it on the screen. Shockingly, all the action remains legible from where players need to go to what walls can be climbed on, indicated by soft white blooms. And regardless of the season or theme, the colors and art never feel gaudy or pretentious but rather reflect the emotion or action taking place.
When the game ultimately culminates in Spring, its message and goals becoming heartbreakingly and upliftingly clear(er). Nomada conducts a kind of rug pull that brings the entirety of the experience into sharp focus, perhaps making every strange temple or blooming seed matter even more, or less. It is a beautifully interpretive finale that will undoubtedly linger with anyone who witnesses it and definitively impact the meaning of a second playthrough. While Neva‘s visuals, combat, exploration, and puzzles are vivid and clear, it is the mystery of Nomada’s world that truly gives the package a final touch of cohesion to make it even more tantalizing and momentous.
Neva is both touching meditation and thrilling adventure. Undoubtedly a work of art exemplified by the sheer artistry on display with its painterly world and brilliant use of color. While captivating and stunning purely from a visual perspective, Nomada uses elegant platforming to craft equally intriguing displays of puzzle solving and spectacle. Trapped in a picture frame, a tale of loss, growth, and rebirth such as this would be hard to parse yet remain poignant and interpretive but Neva captures this depth in stunning movement, a true masterpiece.
