Celestial Return

I jumped into Celestial Return expecting a moody art piece with a few interesting ideas; what I found was a small, bruised gem that constantly reminded me why I love indie CRPGs. Metaphor Games serves up Netherveil City — dripping neon, moral grime, and a detective who survives on dice and stubbornness. The game reads like an interactive comic and plays like a tense point-and-click investigation where every roll matters. If you like narrative risk and tactile consequences, this one scratches an itch; if you hate being punished for choices, prepare to brood.

Walking the Neon Edge

Celestial Return centers on investigation rather than combat, and most of your time is spent moving through locations, questioning NPCs, and parsing clues on a thin line between conscience and desperation. You click through comic panels, inspect scenes, and open branching conversations where choices often require dice to succeed. Dice act as both resource and risk: you earn, hoard, and spend them, but every roll permanently depletes your supply. Exploration is deliberate — rooms hide documents, visual beats, and movable panels that feed the worldbuilding — but the game nudges you forward rather than letting you brute-force every secret. Chapters are compact (three main acts in the release I played), so pacing is brisk; you feel propulsive momentum, but also the sting of missed opportunities when a roll fails.

When the Dice Decide Your Fate

The dice mechanic is the heart of the design and it’s delightfully mean in a fair way: decisions with mechanical weight are rarely trivial and the scarcity makes choices tense. Different dice types provide varied chances and effects, so picking which die to spend becomes a small meta-game of loss aversion and timing. Some scenes allow you to gamble for deeper information, others demand dice just to get a sensible answer; this gives conversations tangible stakes in a way many VN-like CRPGs only promise. Multiple endings and subtle branch differences reward replaying, although you’ll quickly learn that hoarding every die is a losing strategy because opportunities vanish. It’s smart design that rewards attention to detail and keeps me leaning forward, heart thudding, wondering whether this is the roll that costs me the case.

Ink, Noise and Frame-rate

Visually, Celestial Return is a hand-shattered comic hybrid — part manga precision, part raw American comic nerve — and it looks spectacular on a decent monitor. Panels, high-contrast inking, and sudden photoreal touches make each scene feel like a page ripped from a darker anthology. The soundtrack is famously aggressive: noir jazz, cyber-techno, even death metal moments that flip the tone just when you need tension. Performance is generally solid on Windows, but there are UI niggles: cursor behavior with controller use can be confusing, tiny text scaling pops up in places, and a few players have reported crashes and soft-locks early in the release. Accessibility options are minimal for now (limited audio/display toggles), so expect some friction if you need larger fonts or remapped controls. Despite the rough edges, the presentation sells the mood better than words alone could.

Celestial Return is a compact, emotionally sharp CRPG with an arresting visual identity and a tense dice economy that makes every conversation feel lived-in. It stumbles on technical roughness and a short runtime, but its worldbuilding, soundtrack and measured risk mechanics make it worth a look—especially for fans of Disco Elysium and Citizen Sleeper. Buy if you crave narrative stakes and style; wait for patches if you fear soft-locks or accessibility issues.