Karma: The Dark World is the next game in a long list of titles seemingly inspired by Hideo Kojima’s revolutionary Playable Teaser for the cancelled project Silent Hills. That said, Karma is a dark, macabre walking simulator with incorporated puzzles (in the same vein as Soma, Observer, and What Remains of Edith Finch) more than it bears similarities to Outlast, Madison, Visage, or The Evil Within. That’s not to say Karma: The Dark World doesn’t boast some terror-inducing, horror-laced moments, but these become less and less common over the game’s 6-10-hour runtime. The main attraction of Karma is its surreal realization of a dystopian world, in large part overtly and artistically derived from George Orwell’s 1984. Karma: The Dark World boasts the most impressive rendition of the world depicted in Orwell’s acclaimed novel that I’ve ever seen – certainly the only recreation of that world that I can recall having been in a video game. It’s just a shame that Karma: The Dark World isn’t able to do substantially more than it accomplishes with that premise. While the first half of Karma: The Dark World has all the makings of a magnum opus in progress, the game eventually goes in a different direction narratively, tonally, and even in its gameplay mechanics. The engrossing setting feels incomprehensibly squandered given its more than evident potential. Moreover, the unnerving world and atmosphere that Pollard Studio has created in Karma serve as the backdrop for an artistic masterpiece that never fully forms on the canvas, as Karma inexplicably elects to all but abandon any dystopian focus during its second half. The game is ultimately an amalgamation of richly intriguing and uncannily evocative ideas that never mesh together in a cohesive narrative or consummate gameplay experience. While I was initially captivated by Karma: The Dark World’s rivetingly oppressive atmosphere, disturbing world, and abstract messaging, I ultimately walked away disappointed with the game’s questionable departure from early underpinnings, lack of narrative focus, cumbersome and obtuse puzzles, and rudimentary gameplay.
Karma: The Dark World is set in a remarkably evocative and surreal rendition of the type of totalitarian society depicted in George Orwell’s 1984. However, while Karma does seemingly retain a subtly British aura due to the dialect of the voice acting, some of the character names, and even some of the game’s almost alien elements being retrofuturisticly reminiscent of something one might see in one of the more perturbing episodes of Doctor Who, Karma is set in an alternate version of East Germany post-U.S.S.R. takeover and control. To that end, Karma’s setting feels remarkably European for having been made by a Chinese developer. It feels as though Pollard Studio has taken a very real setting/culture somewhat far from home and pushed and molded it to perverse extremes that are almost unfathomable. Perhaps it is the fact that many human being NPCs inexplicably have televisions in place of human heads. Perhaps it is the aesthetic look of dossiers, iconography, and graffiti-riddled concrete walls. Perhaps it is the smoke and fire of a squashed rebellion, its champions bound and prostrated before an unruly crowd as they are individually shot dead in the street. There is something impressive about the nightmarishly impossible fidelity of this Cold War hellscape that I can’t quite place, but that made it feel all the more “authentically” disturbing.
Ostensibly formed as an evolution of a smaller regime originating within the U.S.S.R. government, an authoritarian superstate known as the Levianthan Corporation maintains omnipresent control of Karma’s dystopian society. Propaganda uplifting the Leviathan Corporation – along with its benefits and significance to the people – is rampant, blatant, and alarming. Iconography bearing similarities to the propaganda of communist regimes adorns television screens that feel oppressively superfluous. The city streets have the unshakable air of decrepit squalor, while the interiors of government agency buildings such as the Thought Bureau have the distinct neatness of mandated bureaucratic banality. Citizens are assigned ranks to designate their social class and professional capabilities, even where they can or cannot physically go or what they can or cannot physically touch. Furthermore, every citizen’s rank is a stamp of their importance and value to society, as well as how they ought to be regarded by others. Promotions are highly coveted and are purported by the Leviathan Corporation’s propaganda to increase feelings of self-worth and fulfillment. All forms of humanity and individuality have been circumvented for the illustrious opportunity to benefit the Leviathan Corporation, the undoubted highest honor and pleasure. Workers are encouraged and coerced into labor for inhumane durations in the name of prolonged productivity that is only made possible by a mandatory, government-issued drug that alleviates a person’s need for rest or sleep. “You can’t stop,” the ominous voice over the television tells the worker laboring at their desk as their eyelids fall, their vision blurs, and they desperately grasp and ingest a fifth or sixth vile of the impossible substance so as not to befall some horrible punishment. “You can’t stop.”
Meanwhile, demotions are oppressively common and given for the slightest and often unwittingly committed infractions, such as wearing an unpressed shirt or conversing with others in the workplace break room. The literal depiction of an open eye symbolizes Leviathan’s unavoidable gaze, which sees and knows all. A disembodied and detached voice speaks for Mother, the deified entity that seems to be at the helm of the Leviathan Corporation, or perhaps serves as its conduit, and her eye sees all. The Eye appears on television screens, posters, and even in people’s visions and memories. Its imagery is intimidating, oppressive, and deceptively constant. I remember one instance early in the game when I had been left to my own devices for some time, allowed to feel alone in a deserted space, when suddenly, the moment I picked up evidence of a crime I was investigating as the protagonist, the Eye immediately appeared on screens in the room along with a flood of red light – an exact shade of vivid red that unsettlingly alludes to reprehensible regimes in our very real history. The voice of Mother spoke to me as if to impress upon me that I was never alone, not ever, and that she (or Leviathan Corporation, perhaps one and the same) had seen all, and would see all that I would ever do. “If I serve?” she asked my protagonist, who unquestioningly responded, “I will echo.”
Karma’s protagonist is Daniel McGovern, a stoic agent of Leviathan Corporation’s Thought Bureau who was abducted from his family at a young age and subsequently brainwashed to serve the Corporation. The Thought Bureau is responsible for managing public standards of conduct and handling developing criminal cases. Daniel’s duties involve investigating crime scenes and interrogating suspects and witnesses. His vocation causes him to investigate crimes against the Leviathan Corporation through invasive means such as imposition, interrogation, and even roaming through a subject’s memories with a futuristic mind melding device similar to a virtual reality helmet. The first half of Karma: The Dark World showcases some truly impressive dystopian world-building while simultaneously revolving around Daniel’s investigation of a man named Sean Mehndez. Mehndez is a former lab worker and researcher who was demoted to a clerical position due to incurring a disability through a horrible accident. Sean’s path intertwines with Daniel’s when the latter is sent by the Thought Bureau to investigate Sean as the primary suspect for theft of a highly controlled substance. What follows is a riveting exhibition of perverse storytelling, and this is the part of Karma: The Dark World that delivers a captivating experience. Mark Desebrock’s performance as Sean Mehndez is phenomenal – a notable standout – and certain moments impress upon the player the extent of the terror, futility, and despair that Sean feels, including a 4-minute soliloquy where the camera hangs on Sean for the entire duration, which impacted me with gut-wrenching emotional poignancy.
The other voice acting in Karma: The Dark World ranges from commendable to serviceable, but it has an unshakably amateurish quality that felt very minor, but pervasive. Conversely, the sound design in Karma’s opening hours is exceptional and only amplifies the ominous and foreboding atmosphere. Moreover, Sean’s story and the Orwellian setting in which it takes place gave me the impression that I might be playing through a masterpiece during Karma’s initial hours. The player is funneled along a path that conveys the terror, sorrow, regret, and anguish of this one man in compelling ways; being forced to experience how Sean has been abused, mangled, and discarded – both figuratively and literally – by the oppressive regime in mystifying and disturbing fashion. The preeminent terror that poses an even more immediate danger than the omnipotent Leviathan Corporation is a monster that haunts Sean’s waking nightmares, stalking him relentlessly. This hunter-and-hunted element of Karma: The Dark World makes for some incredible and horrifying gameplay moments. I was engrossed with Sean’s story, his nightmarish pursuer, and the society that impressed all this hardship upon him by the midway point of Karma’s 6-10 hour runtime, but then both Sean and all of the intricate groundwork laid for this surreal dystopian world were abandoned by Karma: The Dark World to traverse other, less compelling paths with its narrative and setting. New characters were introduced that had not been mentioned during the game’s first 3-5 hours. The terrible secret behind the hulking monstrosity that hunts Sean was reduced to mere subtext in favor of a newly introduced narrative of espionage, betrayal, romance, naivety, time loops, sexual abuse, memory wipes, and a secret child with superhuman abilities that were not even hinted at during the first half of the game. None of these narrative beats had any of the gravitas or layered intrigue that Karma’s initial hours so proficiently displayed. No more exploration of the rigorous abuse of the working class by forcing them to consume a drug that exchanges sleep for productivity. No more exploration of the socio-political climate in which Leviathan Corporation maintains authoritarian power. No more exploration of what will happen with the grotesque monster that now consumes a dozen human corpses a day due to a seemingly insatiable appetite. Karma: The Dark World seemingly considers mere forays into those compelling plot threads and ideas sufficient, and decides to take on new ones simply for the sake thereof. The introductions of new plot wrinkles, characters, and twists became awkward and lacked cohesiveness with the prior narrative. Compelling questions remained unanswered in favor of exploring new ones. Gameplay elements that were already somewhat basic deteriorated into monotony and tedium. The entire experience of playing Karma: The Dark World unraveled with every passing hour in such an incomprehensible way that when credits finally rolled, I walked away awestruck at just how terribly and unnecessarily all of Karma’s initial world-building and character intrigue had been mishandled. If Karma: The Dark World wasn’t going to continue to explore its initial world, atmosphere, characters, and premise in its latter half – the most ideal trajectory – I at least wish the game had finished at its halfway point to form a cohesive, if not slightly open-ended exploration of compelling ideas and an evocative setting. Sadly, it does not, and bafflingly squanders its initial masterclass in storytelling and intrigue in a remarkably messy effort to accomplish something else that I can’t even identify.
Karma’s sharp narrative decline into an incoherent mess isn’t helped by the fact that its gameplay starts rudimentary and never substantially improves. Much of the game involves kiting the player forward along predetermined paths, with intermittent puzzles placed throughout to bar progression at periodic intervals. In the game’s first act, I remained stuck on some sort of nigh indecipherable Chinese puzzle box for the better part of an hour before realizing it was optional. Shortly thereafter, I determined that the passcode for a locked drawer that did bar my progression was engraved on an item I had already picked up, which was stowed in my inventory; only, I was astounded when I realized there was no way to inspect the item in my inventory to look at the engraving again. After attempting to find some sort of workaround for several awkward minutes, I surmised that the best method of completing the puzzle was to load a prior save, which should never have been the case. Other puzzles often felt tedious or dispensable: like putting lines on a computer screen in various places three consecutive times without it mattering which combinations I elected to use. There was another where I had to wander around a room full of televisions until I found one particular television. Another puzzle causes a literal time loop where the game does not progress until the puzzle is solved, but there is no indication that the loop will be broken in this manner. These trials start as completely tolerable gateways to more compelling intrigue, atmosphere, and story moments when Karma is rolling on all cylinders, but once the narrative experience deteriorates, they become categorically unfun. Even two distinct “combat” encounters in Karma’s third act that utilize a Fatal Frame-esque camera mechanic fall flat, and illicit more frustration or boredom, respectively, than anything remotely akin to fun or enjoyment.
An apt comparison for Karma: The Dark World might be Home Box Office’s once-hit series Game of Thrones in the sense that it is difficult to recommend, even though the first half of its duration is an incredible, engrossing experience. Much like that flawed, unrealized masterpiece of a series, Karma: The Dark World is not able to come together in a coherent, cohesive, and satisfying fashion in its latter portion. Karma: The Dark Word artfully and captivatingly lays some impeccable groundwork in terms of world-building, atmosphere, and examination of complex ideas that it inexplicably elects to do nothing further with after the resolution of its most compelling character’s story. What follows is an incoherent and frustratingly ill-founded mess of a game that boasts hardly any redeeming qualities outside of the experience that preceded it. I would honestly encourage anyone to set Karma down after Sean Mehdez’s captivating and emotionally wrought story concludes, because after that, Karma feels like it becomes an entirely different game. I had an engrossing and enjoyable experience exploring the ominous and layered backdrop that Pollard Studio meticulously created in this title until it was ripped away from me, almost as if Karma’s early hours were an uncompleted tech demo for perhaps the most authentically surreal Orwellian video game setting ever conceived. Karma: The Dark World fails to deliver on all the promise, prowess, and potential that it initially showcases in its opening one-and-a-half acts, and instead provides an underwhelming and disjointed experience in totality that left me profoundly disappointed.
SUMMARY
Karma: The Dark World exhibits impressive world design with an unrivalled Orwellian setting that is layered with intrigue. It explores the darker machinations of a totalitarian regime with an iron grip on a helplessly captive society. However, Karma: The Dark World disappointingly fails to deliver on its initial premise and potential by neglecting to expand upon the engrossing themes, setting, and narrative showcased during its opening hours. The unnerving world and atmosphere that Pollard Studio has created in Karma serve as the backdrop for an artistic masterpiece that never fully forms on the canvas, as Karma inexplicably elects to all but abandon any dystopian focus during its second half, instead replacing its ostensibly marvellous setup with new characters and narrative threads that squander the game’s incipient masterclass in world-building and sowing intrigue. While Karma easily could have been a masterpiece, as evidenced by all of the chilling artistry of its opening act, it results in a mess of a game that lacks sufficient design cohesion or narrative focus. Karma: The Dark World is ultimately an amalgamation of richly intriguing and uncannily evocative ideas that never mesh together in a cohesive narrative or consummate gameplay experience.
