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When I first booted up Shadow Labyrinth, I expected the usual metroidvania freedom right from the start, but what struck me immediately was how deliberately linear those initial hours felt. For roughly five hours—I clocked it at about five hours and twenty minutes in my first playthrough—the game holds your hand through a carefully constructed pathway. Sure, there were occasional forks in the road, little detours that led to weapon upgrades or hidden caches of resources, but the critical path was unmistakable. I remember thinking how different this felt from classics like Hollow Knight or even newer entries like Ori and the Will of the Wisps, where exploration kicks in almost immediately. In Shadow Labyrinth, the developers clearly wanted players to master the basics before throwing them into the deep end. And honestly, I didn't mind it. That early structure gave me time to get comfortable with the combat mechanics and movement options without feeling overwhelmed by choice.
But then, around that five-hour mark, everything changes. The game truly opens up, presenting you with multiple objectives and the freedom to tackle them in almost any order. On paper, that sounds like a metroidvania fan's dream come true. I was genuinely excited when I reached that point, thinking I'd finally get to chart my own course through this beautifully dark world. The problem, though, is that Shadow Labyrinth struggles to make this newfound freedom feel meaningful. Unlike in something like Metroid Dread, where each new ability meaningfully changes how you interact with the environment, here the progression often feels arbitrary. I found myself backtracking through areas not because I was excited to use a new power, but because the game told me I needed to collect three ancient artifacts or defeat four corrupted guardians. The objectives started feeling like chores rather than adventures.
What's particularly frustrating is that the game's world design doesn't fully support this non-linear approach. I remember spending nearly forty-five minutes trying to navigate to what I thought was an early-game area, only to discover I needed a double-jump ability that wasn't available until much later. The map system, while visually appealing, lacks the clarity of genre standouts. There were multiple instances where I'd cleared about 85% of an area according to the map, but couldn't figure out how to access that remaining portion. Compare this to something like Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, where the map gradually reveals itself in logical patterns, and Shadow Labyrinth's approach feels unnecessarily obscure. The developers seemed to prioritize aesthetic over functionality, which is a shame because the art direction is otherwise stunning.
Combat is another area where Shadow Labyrinth shows both promise and limitation. The basic swordplay feels responsive and satisfying—I particularly enjoyed the parry mechanic that allows for counterattacks. But when the game opens up and throws larger groups of enemies at you, the combat system starts to show its seams. There's a noticeable lack of crowd control options, making some encounters feel more chaotic than challenging. I died at least a dozen times to what should have been routine battles simply because I couldn't effectively manage multiple attackers. The dodge roll has generous invincibility frames, probably around 0.4 seconds, but the recovery animation leaves you vulnerable for just a bit too long. These might sound like minor quibbles, but in a genre where precise movement and combat are crucial, these small imperfections add up.
Where Shadow Labyrinth truly shines is in its atmosphere and environmental storytelling. The haunting soundtrack and detailed pixel art create a sense of place that kept me engaged even when the gameplay frustrated me. I found myself genuinely curious about the lore behind this fallen civilization, piecing together the story through environmental clues and scattered scrolls. The audio design deserves special mention—the echo of footsteps in empty halls, the distant whispers in ancient chambers, these touches show a level of care that makes the world feel alive. If only the gameplay systems supported this wonderful atmosphere as consistently.
After spending about twenty-five hours with Shadow Labyrinth and achieving what I estimate to be 92% completion, I came away with mixed feelings. There's a solid foundation here, moments of genuine brilliance that suggest the developers understand what makes metroidvanias compelling. But too often, questionable design decisions undermine the experience. The delayed opening feels unnecessarily restrictive, the non-linear portion lacks the careful guidance that makes exploration satisfying, and the combat struggles with scale. I wanted to love this game—there were stretches where I absolutely did—but it never quite achieves the cohesive excellence of its genre peers. For newcomers to metroidvanias, Shadow Labyrinth might serve as a decent introduction to the genre's concepts. But for veterans like myself who have played through the greats, it's likely to feel like a missed opportunity, a game with all the right ingredients that never quite figures out how to combine them into something truly special.