It’s hard to imagine how the conversation went at the initial pitch meeting for The Tomorrow Children: “It’s a dystopian world where a girl—well, a clone—and her friends chop up resources, rescue Russian dolls, and rebuild the populations and towns overseen by a creepy overlord. Oh, and it’s got a distinct ‘50s Russian propaganda visual style. And it’ll be free to play soon, but right now you have to buy in.”
Well, on the one hand you can see the inherent intrigue of the unique premise, but on the other that’s going to take some ‘splainin’. And that happens to be the first place where Q-Games’ (best known for the PixelJunk series) The Tomorrow Children falls down. This game of resource collection, town building, and, in fact, social engineering throws many resources, tickets, and currencies at you very quickly, but doesn’t provide an awful lot of explaining of their value or significance.
Out of the gate you’re introduced to the beleaguered land called Void; its current state of emerging from some apocalyptic event is explained through Russian-style TV commercials reminiscent of 1984’s brooding, omnipresent face. And you? You’re a kind of Elizabeth from BioShock meets Russian wooden doll who is quickly handed a pickaxe and directed to collect resources. But the immediate Minecraft similarity gives way to a much more stylized experience as you’re introduced to your first town and armed with a walkie-talkie from which you’ll receive instructions and a rocket launcher with which to handle indigenous pests.
The control mechanics for basic functions are simple enough to pick up but it is easy to be confused by the form and function of the currencies and resources you must now collect. Handily, should you dilly-dally you are prompted with a suggestion of where to head. It can then be a head-scratcher to figure out which building you’re looking for specifically though because of all of the buildings share the same style, so it’s awkward to instantly recognize a Ministry of Labor from a worker’s house. Yet it is fascinating to explore and simply take in the unique architecture, its foggy brown sheen and subdued colors making for a truly original style.
The trial and error and learning does have its initial charms until the process becomes increasingly repetitive. And it would be painfully repetitive if not for the revelation that a significant , but not yet fully realized social aspect exists at the heart of the story and, indeed, its overriding philosophy.