Reviewer’s Note: Given the need to critique certain story elements, there will be SPOILERS down below.
Characterising Fort Solis – as a game – can be gleaned before reaching the titular site itself. As your rover heads toward this base, the opening credits’ real estate focuses on this developer duo’s presentational duties with nary a standard gameplay role in sight. It may have a tight over-the-shoulder perspective and a mysteriously abandoned facility on Mars, but this isn’t Dead Space nor The Callisto Protocol. Though it proudly advertises impressive production values alongside popular voice acting talent, this isn’t a major AAA production either (reinforced by its $19.99 standard price). Reflexively categorising it as a ‘third-person walking sim’ would be off the mark, but not flagrantly so either.
A better way to define it is something that could’ve been a Netflix miniseries but reluctantly shifted to an interactive thriller. Step into the boots of Jack Leary (played by Arthur Clark), a blue-collar engineer stationed on a Martian mining outpost in 2080. As he and his colleague, Jessica Appleton (played by Julia Brown), are preparing for the upcoming storm season, Fort Solis sends out an emergency alert. With no other priorities, he answers the call.
Even before the aforementioned opening credits, Solis’ gameplay template feels…a bit suspicious. Rather than rely on visual framing and cinematic language, it’s more eager to highlight interactable objects with small UI bubbles – even from dozens of meters away; though reticent to put up invisible walls, these circular prompts are meant to keep everyone on the golden path. For whatever argument that has on paper, hastily giving every answer feels like being led by the nose. Even by the restrained standards of Telltale-esque adventures, there’s hardly any tangible incentive to wander about for curiosity’s sake (discounting typical collectibles).
That fatigue is wedded to another design choice that’s seemingly emphasising realism. To both respective teams’ credit, Fallen Leaf and Black Drakkar Games have crafted a plausible near-future world. Sure, levelling up security clearances and hunting batteries sporadically reminds you this is – in fact – a video game; past that, however, the little details sell this place: antiseptic offices with small personal touches, messy recreational areas, realistic modular designs of each base site, and so on. Conversely, the supposed “realism” of Leary’s lumbering steps, as though he’s rucking 200 pounds through molasses after hip surgery, is obliterated the moment you remember Mars has less than half of Earth’s gravity. To think of how many set-pieces frame action like it’s the exact opposite; everyone consistently moves like they’re exhausted and wearing plate armor.
Initially fettered by laborious walking isn’t bad design by default; context and intention matter. Trepidatiously traipsing across Mars’ soil with Ted White’s serviceable soundtrack lends this eponymous station a hint of intrigue. Problem is no one suspects that sluggish pace would betoken the entire game. Many game stories have relied on going to and fro to collect a smorgasbord of video diaries, documented emails, and so on, but not as the main entrée. One could interject about supplementary puzzles and quick-time events (QTEs), but the former’s immediately-accessible answers hardly qualify while the latter’s are confusingly implemented.
Fort Solis’ QTE structure reaches a funny intersection of disregarding every lesson from past successes and failures. For the latter, it’s reminiscent of the original Uncharted’s infrequent smattering of them while also having narrow windows to execute; sometimes it feels so impressed with its own cinematography that it forgets the player altogether. On the other end, it’s like a Quantic Dream title that forgives mistakes to keep the story trundling along. Key difference there being certain fumbles leading to disparate – occasionally hilarious – outcomes; here, erring is inconsequential outside of one specific portion resulting in a different conclusion. Some viewers may snicker at delving into the alleged “artistry” of QTEs, but it shows how little things can add up.
The same applies to its main course, the very act of walking, being antagonistic to the player experience. The most glaring issue is there’s no other speed but first gear – almost doubling total runtime; even moments when tensions run high, there’s no contextual scenario where the player-character hustles to the next objective. Hell, animated moments of speed and celerity in certain cutscenes feel leagues apart from the sluggish forklift played in-game. Even small locomotion details down to spinning around or funky collision detection with small objects show a missing layer of polish.
Lacking mechanical engagement also melds with this narrative writ large.
Still, certain details earn their due. The start’s deliberate pace works to an extent, thanks to Leary’s and Appleton’s rapport while also apprising her of his progress. It gets repetitive soon thereafter though. The cheekiness loses its lustre and so much runtime is dedicated to them acting exasperated after any strenuous action. The clear standout performance here is Troy Baker’s unpredictable doctor – by virtue of also being the only character with something that amounts to depth. Writer/Director James Tinsdale successfully used him as a vehicle to tap into very familiar sensations suffered during the COVID-19 pandemic.
The only issue is these small gold stars can’t measure to a science-fiction yarn that’s never worth unspooling. The lion’s share of its narrative is so reliant on implication that both its science and most character motivations remain opaque. You’re forcefully lumbering to and fro, filtering through the same vague emails, watching the same animations of someone putting a SIM card into their wrist device to watch the same type of elusive video clip, only to grind through to reach a finale’s predictable revelations; and since so many collectibles rehash familiar details, a completionist run injures this weak script even further. Despite only clocking in at four-ish hours (counting most collectibles), that incessant repetition makes the middle and end feel like an eternity.
The most damaging aspect to Fort Solis isn’t a confused script nor barren player agency. There are plenty of narrative-focused titles with anorexic gameplay: walking sims and ‘choose-your-own-adventure’ templates to name a few. Even by that lowered bar though, many popular examples at least strive to incorporate nuanced interactive opportunities alongside their story. The same can’t be said here since every mechanic – walking included! – feels so hurriedly soldered on, almost like there’s a natural ambivalence towards the player. As a result, there’s little reason to care how one defines it when it seems so embarrassed to be in this medium altogether.
