Review – Neva

Nearly six years ago, veteran Nintendo Wire writer and wordsmith par excellence Amelia Fruzzetti took on Nomada Studio’s GRIS. Universally lauded for its art direction, I point to that review both in admiration of a colleague’s work and for how applicable it is to the Spanish dev’s new title. Like GRIS, Neva keeps its gameplay simplistic and its storytelling hands-off, all while gracing whatever screen you play it on with gorgeous set piece after gorgeous set piece. 

There’s no questioning the gorgeous artistry on display here, and to borrow a turn of phrase from my friend’s previous work, Neva is just as tender, vague, inspired as its predecessor was, all while exploring new gameplay ideas while cultivating a tangible sense of kinship at the heart of its near-omnipresent excellence.

 

 

Neva’s debut trailer, which is also its opening cinematic, lays out its core premise better than I ever could. After that tragedy, the game reveals its four act structure up front, leading off with “Summer” before progressing through the seasons with player character Alba and her wolf pup companion (and the game’s namesake) Neva. The show-don’t-tell approach to the game’s story works particularly well in these transitions. Each act/season will have Neva a bit older and more involved with Alba’s skillset as they venture together and stave off the blighted creatures encroaching on the land. 

That’s about as objective as the game gets, by the way. Neva’s website calls out love, identity, growth, trust, and courage as specific themes; and there are some clear influences on its core, perhaps most apparently from Studio Ghibli’s Princess Mononoke. That said, Neva’s narrative ambiguity is integral to its potential resonance. Is it a story of motherhood? Shared trauma? Environmentalism? The sacrifice inherent to responsibility? All of those and more? What stands out most will largely be up to the player’s own experiences and values and it’s a credit to Nomada’s work that there’s that much valid applicability throughout the adventure.

 

 

All of those things are a part of beholding Neva, but what’s it like to play it? Well, in all honesty it’s a pretty simple game. Light platforming and some puzzle elements are interspersed with combat against a progressively more robust lineup of enemy types. A recurring loop becomes apparent a couple chapters in: a relatively peaceful jaunt through a set piece, enemies make their presence known, new elements are introduced (such as teleporting across gateways, or a plunging attack with your sword) and implemented, and eventually a climactic boss fight.

Despite that straightforwardness and predictability, I never got tired of seeing what Neva would bring to the table next. Combat isn’t all that nuanced (at least until we start to work with our lupine friend), but the fluidity of movement and gorgeously implemented animations do wonders in maintaining momentum. I couldn’t put the game down, at least not until I completed its five or so hour story. That can be bolstered a bit if you’re into achievements, including tracking down hidden flowers in each chapter, but the short runtime is my biggest complaint about this experience. It uses that time exceptionally well and tells the story it wants to, but I do wish there was just a bit more here. 

So if the game is short, the combat repetitive, the platforming relatively simple, and the storyline intentionally vague… what kept me so engaged? The bond between Alba and Neva is illustrated so well from start to finish that it was impossible not to become invested in its development. While your own capabilities are fairly static, the wolf’s become more dynamic and complementary of your own with age.  In the beginning Neva’s just a child — you have to rescue them from enemies at times, patiently wait as they build up the courage to jump down ledges, and sometimes whistle to draw their attention back to the task at hand. None of this is intrusive or frustrating. On the contrary it’s endearing, prompting me to pet Neva after enemy encounters and keep my eyes on my charge. 

 

 

As the seasons progress, Neva becomes older and more experienced. As an adolescent their spiritual nature becomes more apparent, able to leap off the air itself and can be commanded to charge enemies. As an adult they’ll be large enough to let Alba ride and strike in tandem with your sword. Beyond gameplay elements there are some narrative ones that go hand in hand with the core themes that I won’t spoil. All I’ll say is that the resolution of each boss encounter is a site to behold, both artistically and as a show of Neva’s growth. This evocation of feeling forged through joint experience is so integral to the game, and Nomada pulls it off splendidly. 

To bring things back to where we began, it’s all too fitting that the only element of Neva that can match the beauty of that bond is its aesthetics. Lush forests, rolling plains, dreary caverns, frozen lakes, and marble ruins — all of these and more are rendered splendidly, rightfully drawing gasps and “wow”s as they make their presence known. The game also delves into more fantastic set pieces, from floating trees and platforming based on reflections to nightmarish chase sequences as the masked blight tries to overtake you. Neva wastes not a bit of its 2D world, creating a canvas worth obsessing over.

 

 

I could go on about what I loved about Neva, both specific and general. Things like the sound design for the wolf’s cries, be they whimpers or howls. That the game had an achievement for being attentive to Neva’s comfort via pets. How its final resolution is one of the finest I’ve encountered in a game like this. Though it’s certainly a game you may only need to experience once to see all it has to offer, it’s one that will stay with you despite its brevity. Between this and GRIS, Nomada Studio has an effectively flawless record under their belt. To once again borrow phrasing, their work continues to be a landmark in both visual design and abstract storytelling. If they weren’t on your radar already, they absolutely should be now.    

 

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