It’s easy to miss a game like Norco, an indie point-and-click game delivered in the midst of several blockbuster games like Elden Ring, Horizon Forbidden West and Ghostwire: Tokyo. Despite dripping with pixel-art flair, Norco doesn’t quite arrest your attention immediately. Its melancholy, as enticing as it is unassuming, could have faded into the backdrop of game releases in recent months, almost lost into the bluster of more mainstream titles. But Norco is also quietly garnering a reputation for its tale: a honest portrayal on the complications the petrochemical industry can wreak on a small town, and its murky themes revolving around religion, change and grief—which saw the game become the very first to win the Tribeca Film Festival’s game award.

I may not know much about Norco, the real-life town in Louisiana, United States that the game is set in, but parts of this point-and-click title feel so intimate that it’s not surprising to learn that these are somewhat anecdotal, based on the childhood experiences of its developer. As Kay, a young woman returning to Norco and her childhood home after your mother’s death, you become increasingly mired in your late mother’s affairs as you uncover more about her research work—all of which took place within the imposing presence of an oil refinery that has set up shop in the community. Then there’s also your missing brother, who is also nowhere to be found. Thus you take off together with your trusty monkey plushie and a security android in search of your sibling across the city, while meeting several colourful characters along the way.

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Norco’s Louisiana-style setting and wretched tale are drenched in the motifs of the Southern Gothic genre, ripe with the fantastical and grotesque, and it’s a truly masterfully written game that has only spurred me to click through its dialogue and scenes, ravenous with anticipation and curiosity. The game itself eschews the conventions of most point-and-click games, such as the pixel hunt and the need to haphazardly smash items together, in favour of a still-familiar system that lets you examine the vicinity, speak to denizens of the community, and explore your next moves—all while unfurling the events that had taken place at an contemplative pace. The occasional puzzles do make an appearance; for instance, you’ll need to transport some items from one place to the next, but these are usually kept at the minimum, without really wearing out their welcome. In fact, there are barely any inconsequential goings-on in Norco, even if some of its combat encounters—-sequences I would barely categorise as combat, actually—verge on ineffectual filler and becoming tonally incongruent, but they’re so brief that these serve to add more trimmings to Norco’s meticulously spun yarn. There are several unexpected twists, too, jammed into the thick of the story, but these encounters are delivered with so much aplomb and warm-hearted humour that it only accentuates just how impeccable its writing is.

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And it’s this sense of warmth and compassion that prevent Norco’s innate wistfulness from becoming too overwhelming. At heart, Norco’s tale is far from a jaunty one; after all, your brother is missing, your mother has passed away, and the town you grew up in is on the precipice of being dismantled. The distillation columns of the oil refinery are a constant blemish on the skyline, and you can almost sniff the bleach-like odour emanating from the plant no matter where you head to. But the town never feels less than human, thanks to the oddball cast who accompanies your journey, from the cult-like gang of disillusioned youth who call themselves Garretts—a group that carry some resemblance to the teenage members of the present-day radical right—to the embittered private investigator Brett LeBlanc, who offers more aid than you initially expected. Norco also switches between perspectives—those of Kay and her deceased mother Catherine—and does so seamlessly, which add depth to Norco’s storytelling, and with every narrative arc expertly followed through to its conclusion.

Throughout my eight-hour playthrough, I watch its characters navigate the debris of their loneliness, debt and trauma, attend decadent dinner parties hosted by the fat cats of the oil industry, and infiltrate the abandoned malls and headquarters of a doomsday cult. All these exploits may seem peculiar, perhaps even outlandish, but Norco manages to keep these grounded by painting a mundane and realistic picture of a close-knit community rocked by forces seemingly beyond their grasp, a sombre portrait of a town set in a backdrop of industrial and environmental decay. Even the perpetually overcast skies feel like a sign of what’s to come for its characters, as if a torrential rain is set to descend anytime soon. But look beyond the parted clouds and we may see a slither of hope yet. Likewise, this is the proverbial silver lining that Norco represents for the videogame industry: a modest title that demonstrates that a narrative-rich experience, made by a first-time indie developer, doesn’t always have to be overshadowed by ostentatious displays of bigger releases. Norco may refer to itself as a sort of pixel ephemera, but its adventure is a vast, cosmic tale that will be fondly remembered decades after.

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Score: 5/5. A review copy was provided by the publisher.

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