I am lost in a crumbling ship stuck in the stars. We are all dying. I have to save the ship.

MIO: Memories In Orbit is a game about hope lost, about the moment in the journey where the crush of the world wins and you curl up and wait for the end. About a tiny robot. About a little spark of hope?

I loved this game.

I hated this game.

The beginning is brilliant. A steady drip-feed of upgrades and unlocks, satisfying fights, and paths discovered. A shopkeeper, upgrade modules, checkpoints, fast travel. 

I reached the flow state of a good Metroidvania in a hurry, hopping around the gorgeous decay of The Vessel in my search to find and fix the Pearls of the ship: The Breath, The Blood, The Eye, The Hand, and The Spine. Only The Heart still beats, though she is dying. A slow choral dirge plays out over galactic synths. Lush environments roll past my little robot, and I am filled with determination. Hope.

My progress stutters as the map opens up.  I am backtracking, warping between Keepers. Searching for the next movement upgrade, a way to unlock the next shortcut, or the next floor of an elevator. The Shopkeeper is low on stock, and I on currency: Nacre droplets from the machines gone feral and Old Cores from long dead units. I begin to see the slope of this climb. The way is treacherous, but I am determined. Getting stronger. I can still save my friends.

I’ve finally reached the third Pearl.  He was scared, ashamed, confused. “Please, don’t look at me.” I feel haggard and worn. The battles are no longer about reaction or improvisation so much as memorization and precision.

I return to the shop to find the shopkeeper missing, taken by The Hand. I cannot spend my growing hoard of treasure now. How will I become stronger without his upgrades? It’s been ages since I stumbled on a module that made me feel stronger, longer since I’ve increased my capacity to equip more than a few. Surely if I defeat The Hand, I will find my friend, right?

I descend into the dark.

The Hand was the hardest fight yet. Three phases, where mostly perfect dodge timing was required to defeat her cruel puppet. The shopkeeper is still missing. My health ticks away in violent whiteouts as I watch my small robot stagger and struggle to reboot. A pip of health blinks out permanently. I’d just increased past three and I am back where I started.

More of the ship’s adorable robot NPCs have permanently fallen, become “unrecoverable,” as The Heart shudders. The ship is becoming more treacherous; I am growing weaker instead of stronger.

I am desperate. I Google how to rescue the shopkeeper, shocked at how well hidden he is. I would not have found him on my own.

The Hand was a cake walk. The Last Embedders are brutal and efficient. 

I die in seconds.

I’ve scrapped together some mods to improve my health, but they cut me down in what feels like three hits. The runback is easy but agonizingly slow compared to the single moment it takes the pair to eviscerate my frame. Maybe if I watch someone else fight it, I will discover some timing or strategy I am missing.

The player I watch weaves through the air somehow, barely missing most attacks, parrying the rest. Then the floor crumbles and he must win without touching the ground.

Nope. Nope nope nope.

I abandon the Embedders and stalk off to confirm my suspicions about the final story boss. My sister is tough; I will have to memorize her movements and parry her grab. I take a break and wander the ship a little, maybe I can find another upgrade among the dwindling unexplored areas of the ship. 

The screen goes white. Again, I permanently lose a health pip. I am down to two naturally, three or four if I max out my precious equipment budget on defense. That will mean less points toward the offensive skills, some of which I have still never used, as I’ve never had the budget to swap them out for the more consistent alternatives. 

My hope falters. Is the game worth finishing, or will I bow out like I did near the end of other Soulslikes?

A bittersweet victory. A predictable sacrifice, confirmation of a suspected horror. The music swells. I recall the untouched areas of the ship, the gear I did not find, the boss I did not vanquish. The game holds a vigil for me. I wonder if this is “the bad ending,” or if things would be different if I’d found another candle, opened another door. If there was still a way to become stronger. The credits roll. This is my victory.

I do not feel victorious.