Indika
is
a
captivating
indie
game
from
a
team
once
based
in
Russia,
a
team
that
swiftly
left
their
home
when
the
invasion
of
Ukraine
began
and
moved
to
Kazakhstan.
It’s
the
tale
of
a
nun,
the
titular
Indika,
who
talks
to
the
Devil
and
of
an
escaped
convict
who
converses
with
God.
It’s
a
tale
of
a
woman
fighting
her
faith,
a
game
of
philosophical
discussions
about
how
sin
is
measured
(
a
murder
is
equal
to
a
thousand
undelivered
letters)
and
musing
on
what
a
soul
is
and
whether
a
dog
has
one.
It’s
a
lot
of
things,
wrapped
up
in
a
gorgeously
bleak
visual
style,
topped
with
a
sinfully
dry
sense
of
dark
humour.
Most
of
all,
it’s
the
kind
of
game
I’m
glad
exists,
because
above
all
else,
it’s
interesting
and
different
and
weird,
and
we
need
those
kinds
of
experiences.
It’s
also
not
a
game
for
everyone,
and
that’s
good
too.

The
other
obvious
thing
is
that
the
game
is
tonally
a
bit
weird:
there
are
“quests”
popping
up
in
pixelated
text,
the
background
music
is
some
weird
melody
that
sounds
like
it’s
out
of
an
arcade
game
and
there
are
points
to
collect
that
the
game
itself
describes
as
“pointless.”
You
can
level
up
to
unlock
nodes
like
+3
shame
that
promise
to
multiply
future
points.
Most
of
these
are
earned
for
gathering
collectibles
or
performing
a
couple
of
menial
tasks.
Essentially,
you’re
levelling
up
your
faithfulness
by
doing
bullshit,
kind
of
like
we
level
up
in
games
by
grinding
away.
And
yet
here
I
am,
dutifully
collecting
the
collectables
regardless.

But
lo!
Indika
has
a
glimmer
of
hope
as
she
is
handed
a
letter
and
told
to
deliver
it
to
a
distant
monastery.
It’s
a
chance
to
escape
and
a
daunting
prospect
because
this
game
is
set
in
an
alternate
version
of
19th-century
Russia,
and
things
are,
frankly,
a
bit
grim.
This
is
a
miserable
place
where
people
are
dirty
and
cold,
where
buildings
have
fallen
down
chasms
or
are
perched
precariously
on
top
of
ruins
and
look
like
they’ll
tumble
if
the
Jenga
block
at
the
bottom
moves
half
an
inch.

It’s
a
beautiful
game,
in
a
brutal,
dour
sort
of
way.
The
world
itself
is
fantastical
at
times,
a
mixture
of
realism
and
surreal
weirdness.
One
moment
you’re
walking
through
a
relatively
normal
ramshackle
group
of
buildings
covered
in
snow,
and
the
next
there’s
an
absurdly
massive
dog
sleeping
behind
a
fence
or
cans
of
fish
the
size
of
a
human,
or
a
massive
steam-powered
crane
capable
of
lifting
humungous
chunks
of
bridge
with
ease.
I
spent
a
lot
of
time
pondering
whether
everything
I
was
seeing
was
real
in
this
alternate
version
of
19th-century
Russia
or
perhaps
some
manifestation
of
the
turmoil
within
Indika.
At
one
point
I
even
wondered
if
Indika
had
a
form
of
psychosis,
which
would
certainly
explain
some
of
the
odder
scenes
in
the
game,
like
a
miniature
clone
of
a
nun
erupting
from
her
mouth
and
dancing
along
her
arm.

And
honestly,
even
after
finishing
the
game,
I’m
not
quite
sure
how
much
was
real,
how
much
was
an
exaggerated
version
of
Indika’s
mental
struggle
and
how
much
may
be
a
sign
that
her
mind
is
no
longer
entirely
her
own.

I
love
a
lot
of
the
small
details
here,
like
how
Indika
grasps
her
rosary
beads
and
walks
with
her
head
bowed.
Spinning
the
camera
around
gives
a
brief
glimpse
of
her
nervous,
darting
eyes.
She’s
smart,
too,
often
boasting
a
surprising
amount
of
knowledge
about
technology
and
other
subjects.

It’s
not
long
before
Indika
finds
herself
tangled
up
with
an
escaped
convict
by
the
name
of
Ilya,
a
man
with
an
infected
arm
who
firmly
believes
God
has
spoken
to
him
and
laid
out
a
plan
for
him
which
will
lead
to
him
being
healed.
For
much
of
the
game,
it’s
Indika
and
Ilya
travelling
together.
Confronted
by
a
person
with
such
conviction
while
she
is
struggling
with
maintaining
her
faith,
Indika
can’t
help
but
begin
to
poke
and
prod
at
Ilya’s
belief
just
like
the
strange
voice
keeps
questioning
hers.
She
finds
loopholes
in
his
logic,
and
inconsistences
with
what
he
says
and
how
he
acts,
all
while
the
voice
in
her
head
keeps
mocking
Indika,
asking
why
she
believes
something
or
idly
throws
around
the
kind
of
dark
thoughts
that
tend
to
soar
through
our
own
minds,
however
fleetingly.

To
be
honest,
if
you’re
like
me,
an
outsider
to
religion,
Indika’s
(the
game,
not
the
character)
ruminations
on
religion-
its
function,
its
core
ideas,
how
souls
work,
God,
the
Devil
and
everything
in
between
–
doesn’t
really
come
to
any
startling
new
revelations.
If
you’ve
ever
given
religion
about
5-minute
of
thought
you’ve
likely
had
the
same
conversations
or
versions
of
them
with
yourself
or
with
friends
that
Indika
(the
character.
Christ,
this
is
confusing)
finds
herself
having
with
Ilya.

That’s
fine
though,
because
there
isn’t
a
lot
of
new
ground
to
tread
when
it
comes
to
religion,
and
even
though
it’s
familiar
stuff
the
story
of
Indika
coming
to
terms
with
whether
or
not
she
really
believes
in
God
is
engrossing.
The
conversations
are
captivating
and
often
subtly
funny,
supported
by
some
really
excellent
voice
acting.
Isabella
Inchbald
handles
the
English
version
(with
Anastasia
Dyachuk
performing
the
native
Russian)
and
she
absolutely
nails
it
to
a
cross.
Indika
is
sweet,
charming,
often
shy
and
occasionally
confident.
And
when
she
talks
about
her
faith
or
lack
of
it,
she’s
nervous
and
worried,
hesitation
soaked
into
every
line
spoken,
like
by
voicing
these
thoughts
she’s
expecting
to
be
struck
down
at
any
moment.
Louis
Boyer
is
also
great
as
Ilya
while
Silas
Carson
plays
a
fantastically
jovial
Devil.

There
are
a
few
issues
here
and
there
with
the
script,
mind
you.
Most
of
it
seems
to
come
down
to
localization.
A
few
sentences
don’t
feel
quite
right,
a
couple
of
pauses
in
the
conversation
are
a
tad
odd
because
one
character
starts
talking
like
they
didn’t
hear
the
previous
sentence.
Perhaps
that’s
actually
deliberate,
though.
Minor
problems
that
don’t
really
get
in
the
way
of
the
otherwise
riveting
story
of
Indika.

You
may
have
guessed
from
all
this
that
Indika
has
a
lot
in
common
with
what’s
typically
referred
to
as
the
“walking
sim”
genre
of
games.
You’d
be
right.
There’s
an
awful
lot
of
walking
and
talking
in
|ndika,
and
even
the
developers
themselves
have
joked
about
this
in
various
interviews.
But
it
does
try
to
mix
up
the
bombastic
action
of
Indika
ambling
through
snow
while
pontificating
about
whether
anybody
can
genuinely
love
God
of
their
own
free
will
(maybe
eat
an
edible,
Indika?)
by
throwing
in
a
puzzle
or
two.
These
are
usually
simple
sequences
where
you
do
something
like
shift
a
box
around
or
figure
out
the
order
in
which
two
elevators
must
be
moved
around.
Nothing
too
complex,
but
also
somewhat
boring
to
complete.

The
puzzles
are
vastly
better
than
the
couple
of
chase
sequences,
mind
you,
which
are
bloody
annoying.

In
stark
contrast
to
the
muted
greys
and
blacks
of
Indika’s
adulthood,
the
flashbacks
to
her
childhood
are
colourful
and
vibrant,
rendered
as
charming
2D
pixel-art
games
that
slowly
reveal
how
she
wound
up
as
a
nun.
It’s
a
fun
shift
that
goes
hand-in-hand
with
the
game’s
dark
humour
and
sense
of
oddness
(there’s
some
proper
weird
shit)
but
the
mini-games
themselves
are
a
bit
hit-and-miss.
And
God
help
anyone
who
jumps
into
Indika
expecting
a
slow
experience
only
to
find
themselves
having
to
perform
some
precise
timed
leaping
over
dancing
frogs.
A
few
older
members
of
the
Steam
forums
had
this
exact
problem,
believing
it
would
be
mostly
walking
and
talking
only
to
find
their
progress
stalled
by
a
surprising
2D
platforming
section.

As
a
game
then,
Indika
is
kind
of…well,
naff.
If
gameplay
is
the
defining
thing
you
look
for
when
shopping
around
for
a
new
game,
then
Indika
is
probably
best
left
alone.
This
is
one
for
those
who
appreciate
a
story
above
all
else.
It’s
also
a
story
where
the
author
doesn’t
give
in
to
the
trend
of
having
an
ambiguous
ending
and
instead
gives
you
an
actual
finale,
albeit
one
where
what
happens
next
will
probably
never
be
answered.
I
was
satisfied
by
the
ending,
and
that’s
a
rare
thing
these
days.

In
multiple
interviews,
creative
director
and
writer
Dmitry
Svetlov
has
described
his
inspiration
for
Indika
as
being
a
mixture
of
his
religious
upbringing
and
his
own
gradual
loss
of
faith,
as
well
as
how
religion
has
become
a
weapon
Putin
uses
against
the
Russian
people.

“Priests
just
say
you
should
defend
your
country,
you
should
die
for
your
homeland,
and
you
go
to
heaven.
It’s
madness,”

he
said
to
the
Guardian.

In
the
very
same
interview
he
describes
how
the
conversations
Indika
has
along
the
way
mirror
the
ones
he
had
with
friends
when
he
was
15
years
old,
trying
to
make
his
religious
friends
understand
his
growing
scepticism
with
the
Orthodox
Church.

You
can
feel
all
of
this
in
Indika
throughout
the
3-4
hours
it
takes
to
complete.
As
Indika
struggles
internally
with
who
she
is,
externally
we
see
a
Russia
on
the
brink
of
collapse.
It
is,
of
course,
an
alternate
history
version
of
Russia,
but
even
so…it’s
hard
not
to
imagine
that
this
is
the
Russia
Dmitry
sees
now.

Beautiful
and
captivating
and
thoughtful
and
fucking
weird,
Indika
is
the
kind
of
odd
experiment
that
I
love
to
see
in
games.
It’s
a
reminder
that
games
can
be
a
lot
of
things
to
a
lot
of
very
different
people.
Indika
is
not
for
everyone
and
that’s
good
because
there
are
a
hundred
other
games
out
there
that
will
be.
But
if
Indika’s
themes
of
religion
and
philosophy
and
free
will
and
sin
and
whether
good
or
evil
mean
anything
in
a
world
where
God
and
the
Devil
are
real
speak
to
you,
then
Indika
is
a
hell
of
a
journey
to
go
on.
I
can’t
wait
to
see
what
developer
Odd
Meter
creates
next.