Astral Ascent Review

There’s gorgeous pixel art pretty much everywhere you look in the indie game scene these days, so much so that it’s easy to take for granted. So when a really prime example like Astral Ascent pops up, I always make sure to check my pixely privilege and properly drink it in — stop and smell the retro roses — between smashing the absolute bejesus out of unwitting groups of critters, beasties, and in this case, anthropomorphised Zodiac signs.

That’s the main thrust of Astral Ascent, after all. Blaze around with its slick, explosive combat system and have a ruddy good time doing it. This is textbook responsive, 2D platforming, roguelite tastiness, borrowing flavours from the notable genre treats you probably love as much as I do, like Dead Cells and Hades. And yet… and yet… I’m doing that face you make when there’s a painful truth you’d rather not accept. Or when the keys in your back pocket poke you in the bum cheek. Because most of my Astral Ascent playtime was haunted by a nagging feeling that I really, really wanted to love it more than I actually did.

Here’s the thing, though: many (not all, mind you) of the details and design decisions that gave me the ick will be entirely tolerable for plenty of players, even celebrated by some. On the flip side, they might be crimes against fun for others. Your personal review score could genuinely be anything from six to 11 out of 10. So don’t you be skipping to the verdict, now, because you’ll need to decide whether my gripes are likely to be an issue for you.

In typical roguelite fashion, the plot here is pretty inconsequential. The four playable characters are looking to break free of their gilded prison, which takes the form of a lush, verdant hub world full of chatty NPCs and vendors selling permanent upgrades. When you’re ready to have a crack at the next run, speak to the helpful owl creature so that she can fly you to the first area. Slash and spell your way through a series of zones and bosses collecting skills and stat boosts that will disappear at the end of your run, and currency that won’t.

There are four uniquely themed zones, each split into 12 procedurally generated areas, and while these environments look lovely, they’re extremely basic and totally linear in structure. The occasional platforms and climbable walls add no challenge at all and seem to have been included simply to make things more closely resemble a typical sidescroller. The lack of overall variety started to wear on me after a few attempts, but fortunately, optional special rooms here and there switch up the visuals in some creative and pleasantly baffling ways. Yeah, just casually pop over to the Sun and grab a couple of nice spell boosts, or head into The Void and take on the face-meltingly difficult “Sculptor”. But actually, don’t. Guy’s a douche. 

Of utmost importance, of course, is the combat system, which seemed to be near perfect at first. Standard attacks are snappy, the dodge manoeuvre is swift, the four spells that you can upgrade or replace during runs look fantastic and feel potent as all heck, and, for two of the playable characters at least, their unique “signature spell” packs a right wallop. That signature spell — a homing strike, counterattack, friendly gun drone, or useless, indescribable move, depending on the character you choose — operates on a cooldown, while the standard spells require mana, which you replenish by landing standard attacks. It’s a clever system and it absolutely works, but the little problems with it are ever-present and detract just a touch too heavily from the experience for me to make my peace with them.

For starters, the standard spells are represented by small, abstract-looking symbols down the bottom-left corner of the screen. It is astoundingly difficult to keep track of which one will come out when you next pull the trigger while in the throes of fast-paced, reaction-based combat. The trouble here is that some spells cause your character to dash forwards or backwards, potentially right into danger, so I ended up always picking the ones that shot projectiles in front of me so that I at least knew, mechanically, what would happen when I pressed the button. 

The mana gauge is similarly inconspicuous, making it impractical to monitor while in combat. As a result, I found myself whiffing spells on a regular basis because I was out of juice without realising. Ayla’s “I’m out of mana” line is now burned inexorably into my nightmares. But hey, no big deal, just throw a few more basic strikes to build up the meter again, right? Unfortunately, the standard melee strikes are pretty underwhelming, dealing minimal damage to even the wimpiest baddies and lacking the audio-visual oomph to make up for it. There are no meaningful weapon upgrades either, so you have to just learn to live with it. 

These are quite significant issues, and yet I felt a strong urge to keep playing for roughly 10 hours in total, so clearly there’s something rewarding about the combat system. The spells are a big part of the appeal, satisfying as they are to unleash, and they only get better when you start upgrading them and bolting on additional effects called ‘gambits’. 

Things get suitably intense when you put all of your nasty gadgets to work on the bosses that cap off each area, although how enjoyable you’ll find those fights depends on your preferences in that regard. You’ll face off against a handful of the 12 Zodiacs across a single run and, on the first attempt, each fight effectively resembles a huge mess of attack markers — that is, red highlights that indicate the direction of incoming damage. Now, I don’t expect to get through a roguelite boss fight for the first time in an elegant manner, if at all, but I like to be able to pretend I could have reacted to everything like some kind of psychic Ninja cat if I’d just got an extra hour of sleep the night before. Here, there’s no pretending. You’ll get smashed around by area-of-effect attacks the entire fight, knowing immediately that the only way to beat it stylishly is to learn the attack patterns and timings through good old repetition. Sure, you might get through a few bosses on the first attempt, but it will only be because you’ve stacked up enough health boosts on the way there to tank 90% of the damage. 
 

There’s a huge amount of stuff to unlock in Astral Ascent. Dozens of spells, countless gambits, numerous “auras”, Zodiac summons, astral… boons, galactic… doodads, celestial… nicknacks. OK, I forgot the names of some of them, but there are just so many things. And I suppose that can only be a good thing. It’ll keep you busy, no doubt. I just couldn’t help wondering why there was this much stuff. I found that I wasn’t excited about any of it, and it’s because all of these wondrous rewards felt a little bit inconsequential. They don’t appreciably impact the gameplay, so there’s not a huge incentive to wander around the hub world interacting with NPCs to redeem them. 

Similarly, I wondered why those NPCs talk so much. And why they had to be voice-acted. None of them have the depth of character to enhance the experience in any way, and the voice performances, while not at all bad, felt more suited to a children’s cartoon. Every line is delivered with the kind of exaggerated intonation that seems designed to hold the fragile attention of an audience who’s liable to bound off any second in search of their sippy cup. 

If that sounds snobby to you, then it probably won’t be an issue for you. Same goes for the music, which is really solid work — great symphonic compositions that strike a specific tone and strike it well — and yet, I kept wondering why the hub area’s backing track is quite so grandiose. It’s very reminiscent of the opening scene in one of those 90s family movies that really wants you to know that everything is glorious and happy right now. Insanely emotional string crescendos, truly moving performances, but, for me, jarringly out of place. The rest of the soundtrack is just as technically impressive but lacks personality.

I just wonder how much thought was put into these decisions. Is the music all epic and symphonic just because of an outdated idea that orchestral score must be the superior style for any soundtrack? Are there some rudimentary walls and platforms just because side-scrolling roguelites usually have those? Are there this many unlockable skills and upgrades just because that’s kind of the trend these days, and Hibernian Workshop failed to consider that the motive is typically to sell microtransactions, which, thankfully, aren’t even present here? 

And — to lean one last time on this review’s get-out-of-jail-free word — yet, there is no denying that Astral Ascent, despite the little annoyances and missed opportunities, is a competent and engaging action-platformer. Even with my snobbery and clashing personal preferences, I enjoyed myself right up until the moment I lost the motivation to continue, and that’s decent value. 10 hours is a good amount of game, and my mild disappointment is partly due to how close I was to falling absolutely in love. In any case, for fans of side-scrolling roguelites, this is still a safe recommendation and a sign of fantastic things to come for Hibernian Workshop.