A Thaumaturge is a performer of miracles. That’s at least what the dictionary tells me, because it’s a word I hadn’t encountered before settling in for the latest RPG from Fool’s Theory. In their world, specifically early 20th-century Poland, a Thaumaturge can read and influence minds, and communicate with the dead. At a time of great political unrest, where even thoughts can be prosecuted, such a gift proves itself both a blessing and a curse.
Right off the bat, it’s clear that if Fool’s Theory has done something right, it’s nailing the tone and atmosphere of their moody thriller. From rundown villages to the decrepit opulence of Warsaw, there isn’t a single moment in The Thaumaturge that isn’t dripping with style. Visually, it’s a gorgeously haunting masterpiece. A moody triumph that brings to mind the best of Disco Elysium.
The writing is equally strong. While it’s nowhere near as vast as Za/Um’s seminal work, The Thaumaturge boasts a nuanced, thoughtful, and emotionally mature script that’s stands proudly alongside any competition. Delving into complex topics involving paternal strife, imperialism, concepts of freedom and sovereignty, and life beyond death, The Thaumaturge is never anything less than immensely captivating.
Which isn’t to say it lacks a sense a fun. It’s just that the humour is often dry and droll, as opposed to big and overt. Our hero, Wictor, is a man riddled with anxiety, anger, and pride. His quick wit manifests itself like a blade in the dark. Slicing quickly and efficiently, something that can be mistaken for rudeness. For an autistic gamer, though, it feels surprisingly welcoming. There’s a comfort in seeing someone with familiar traits depicted so lovingly and compassionately in art.
His compatriots, namely Rasputin, are equally well-rounded. The tenuous friendship between two men both gifted and cursed with their powers is easily among the most interesting in years. The historic backdrop lends to plenty of dramatic irony, and history buffs will find lots to enjoy in how well researched and crafted everything feels.
The game mechanics are streamlined and straightforward, but I wouldn’t call them simplistic. The Thaumaturge is more interested in telling a compelling story rather than bogging itself down in complex systems. The combat rarely requires deep tactics, outside a few surprisingly tough bosses, and much of the detective work is running around collecting and reading clues, rather than stringing them together. The comparisons to Disco Elysium feel apt once more. Both are text-heavy experiences, though I’d argue the latter is the more responsive game of the two.
It’s also not a very long game. The main story took me just over ten hours to complete, though I’m certain I missed out on side-quests and hidden paths. According to colleagues, a 100% run doubles that time, which puts The Thaumaturge square in the middle of RPG lengths. Which is fine! This is a story that doesn’t need a hundred hours of exploration. But it’s also a reminder that it’s not a big budget title, and you shouldn’t go in expecting one.
An argument can be made that The Thaumaturge would work just as well as a visual novel. It’s hard to argue against it. The battles can feel superfluous, and there’s rarely a puzzle or gameplay element that stands out as something that needs the isometric open world around it. On a technical level, the ambitious presentation is often heavy, causing stutters and frame drops at odd intervals. You have to approach it as an indie title, and that comes with certain caveats.
Despite this, I would be lying if I said that I’m anything else than enamoured by The Thaumaturge. Yes, its scope is greater than what it can achieve currently. And yes, many mechanics are threadbare, at best. But there’s something to be said for ambition, which is something The Thaumaturge does not lack. I have a fondness for any game that tries so much, so valiantly, and mostly succeeds. Especially when it feels personal and immediate, as it does here.
The Thaumaturge is the kind of game you can point to when asked what indie games can be at their most profoundly beautiful state. You can see the rough edges, the compromises, and the early faltering steps, and none of it matters. Instead, you’re captivated by the untarnished vision, the uncompromising attention to detail, and the unconventional narrative choices. It’s a game that does so much with so little, and each nuance feels like a revelation.
It’s a superb calling card for a talented studio, and one of my favourite new titles of 2024 so far.
Toisto 