Poking fun at the title of the brawler Remember Me might seem like an easy target, yet it is essential to acknowledge the irony embedded within. Today, developer Don’t Nod is primarily celebrated for its acclaimed Life is Strange series, relegating Remember Me to a mere footnote in gaming history. Upon reflection, the studio’s debut game emerges as a vivid representation of its original identity—creative, stylish, and distinctly French. However, its lukewarm reception and disappointing sales left the company in precarious financial circumstances, only salvaged by the success of Life is Strange, which ultimately diverted Don’t Nod onto a different trajectory, leaving Remember Me without a sequel, either direct or spiritual.
Despite the narrative of memory manipulation, protagonist Nilin retains her judo skills. The martial arts combat against leapers and armored police officers offers the only semblance of depth, albeit limited. Players engage in button-mashing through basic combos, dodging attacks, and activating sci-fi powers once a meter is filled. The feature allowing players to craft custom combo strings—loosely tied to the theme of memory control—fails to elevate the experience. In practice, the combat feels disappointingly insubstantial, akin to boxing with oven mitts.
Yet, much of the gameplay revolves around traversing the city rather than engaging in combat. Players find themselves either strolling leisurely down the streets or navigating straightforward climbing sequences that feel overly telegraphed. This design choice serves as a filler, seemingly aimed at encouraging players to absorb the stunning visuals while performing minimal button presses. Unfortunately, the game does not offer enough substance to maintain engagement.
And what visuals they are. Even 11 years after its initial release, Neo-Paris stands as a breathtaking testament to artistic design, embodying a concept-art aesthetic that few games achieve. The sensen effects are equally striking, represented as glitchy holograms that envelop characters during memory transfers or manipulations—sometimes dramatically erupting from a cop’s face during unique finishing moves.
The French flair permeates every aspect, crafting a unique atmosphere amidst a sea of U.S.-influenced action-adventure titles. Every outfit exudes chic glamour, reminiscent of Jean Paul Gaultier’s sci-fi costumes in The Fifth Element. Iconic landmarks punctuate the cityscape, juxtaposing sleek futurism with elements of the old and gothic. Nilin herself appears as an ethereal runway model, ready to captivate audiences in a subtitled black-and-white art film.
However, returning to the game reveals a disheartening lack of coherent world-building to anchor its style and flair. The city of Neo-Paris lacks a logical foundation, with the sensen device portrayed as the root of societal decay, yet offering scant explanation for its catastrophic impact. The narrative hints at the dangers of digitizing memories but fails to provide clarity on why this leads to societal collapse.
Mind over matter
In Nilin’s hands, memory technology resembles magic, granting her a range of thematically disconnected superpowers. The loss of memories manifests in the physical mutations of the long-limbed leapers, perhaps serving as a metaphor for how memories shape our humanity. Yet, without a solid foundation, the narrative devolves into a chaotic amalgamation of ideas. Some implications risk being unintentionally humorous or even offensive—such as the portrayal of vitiligo as a symptom of monstrous transformation. If leapers are victims of the system, why is the player compelled to engage in combat with them?
Character and location names oscillate between being overtly descriptive and utterly nonsensical. A contact named Headache Tommy operates from The Leaking Brain bar, while revolutionaries dubbed Errorists aim to infiltrate the St Michel Comfortress. While amusing and memorable, these choices lack grounding in a believable reality.
The overarching message regarding our relationship with memory and technology becomes obscured in the chaos. Is it a critique of social media addiction? A warning against clinging too tightly to the past? Or a commentary on the dangers of suppressing painful memories? Two years prior, Black Mirror explored similar themes in “The Entire History of You,” dissecting our obsession with recording our lives. In contrast, Remember Me takes ten hours and substantial investment to fail to articulate any clear message.
Yet, one aspect resonates harmoniously with the game’s themes. At pivotal moments, Nilin can “remix” the memories of key characters, diving into significant moments in their lives and altering details to create different outcomes. This mechanic illustrates how pivotal moments shape our identities. For instance, Nilin manipulates the memory of a bounty hunter, ultimately changing his motivations and aligning him with her cause.
While the execution of these memory puzzles can be cumbersome, the concept harbors potential for something truly compelling. As players experiment with adjustments to memories, they witness varying outcomes, engaging with the intricate web of cause and effect. This seed of creativity would later flourish in Life is Strange, where time travel replaces memory manipulation, leading to critical acclaim and commercial success for Don’t Nod. Thus, while Remember Me may fade into obscurity, its most compelling ideas have been remixed and revitalized, hinting at a deeper narrative thread waiting to be unraveled.
