As I embarked on my journey through Lorn’s Lure, I was acutely aware of my fear of heights. This trepidation had often been a source of excitement in video games, where I would scale towering structures and leap into the unknown, chasing adrenaline. However, I was unprepared for the additional fears that awaited me within this sci-fi mountaineering adventure, particularly the claustrophobia of dark, constricting tunnels. The game’s design skillfully transformed my experience into a new realm of anxiety, as I navigated through its shadowy depths.
Pleasantly Haunted
Inspired by the striking architectural landscapes of the classic ‘Cyber dungeon quest’ manga, BLAME!, Lorn’s Lure presents itself as a low-fi first-person platformer. Players assume the role of an android, drawn into the depths of an endless industrial structure by a mysterious ‘glitch’ in their vision. The environment, characterized by crumbling concrete and intricate pipework, tells a story of civilizations long past, with only fragments of text and a handful of characters to guide solitary exploration.
In this vast expanse, the potential for demise is virtually limitless. Although there are no monsters lurking in the shadows, gravity and the folly of ambition serve as formidable foes. Fortunately, as a robot adept in mathematics, each death is framed as a failed simulation. A misstep sends you back to your last secure foothold, allowing for repeated attempts at challenging jumps, which helps to mitigate frustration—aside from a few endurance-testing segments. Yet, the game is far from easy; Lorn’s Lure demands resilience, prompting me to take breaks to regain my composure before diving back into its gripping challenges.
While I chose to navigate the game independently, a hint system exists to guide players toward key locations. However, assistance is minimal, and the later levels require precision and composure, even after understanding the game’s demands. This cerebral challenge is what captivated me. Lorn’s Lure often presents a distant goal, surrounded by a labyrinth of outcroppings, pipes, and flat concrete walls. Players must utilize climbing picks, which consume stamina, to traverse these obstacles, all while contemplating the best route to their destination.
Multiple pathways often exist, particularly as players unlock additional movement techniques. This encourages thoughtful exploration, especially when searching for optional crystals hidden throughout each level. Collecting these crystals, akin to the cherries in Celeste, unlocks bonus stages that delve deeper into the game’s mechanics, presenting a single-life precision obstacle course inspired by the chapter’s themes. After dedicating a dozen hours to the game, I have only uncovered two of the eight bonus stages.
Falling Down
Each of the eight chapters offers a distinct experience, with none taking less than an hour to complete on the first attempt, and some extending beyond 90 minutes. The initial level allows for a leisurely exploration of crumbling pipeworks and concrete structures, providing an opportunity to familiarize oneself with the climbing mechanics. The second chapter presents a vertical descent through a maze of machinery and rebar, followed by a challenging ascent back to the starting point. The third level immerses players in a claustrophobic caving expedition, illuminated solely by their own flares. Each chapter introduces a new aesthetic and gameplay flow, with the low-fi PSX visuals enabling solo developer Rubeki to craft environments rich in implied history and decay.
While I hesitate to reveal too much about the later levels, the thrill of uncovering new and unusual environments kept me returning to this desolate, brutalist labyrinth. Completing the game unlocks the ability to revisit locations with a full suite of end-game moves, transforming previous challenges into exhilarating playgrounds for further exploration.
