Loop8: Summer of Gods review

It’s the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine)

As Makoto Shinkai and Atlus’ P-Studio have taught us, only strong relational bonds can beat the apocalypse. Much like Weathering with You, Suzume, and most of the Persona series, Loop8: Summer of Gods envisions society hurtling toward imminent deduction. The game’s plotline is rooted in an alternative 1983, where underworld spirits known as Kegai have ravaged much of the world. Oddly, the tiny Japanese town of Ashihara Nakatsu has been spared. But the appearance of a hovering, translucent orb (seen only by those with a special ability) implies that serenity might be short-lived.

You play as Nini, who lived on a space station until the Kegai overwhelmed the outpost. Welcomed by his cousin who lives with him at his grandmother’s family home, the town of Ashihara initially seems delightfully tranquil. Beyond the local high school and a scenic shrine, the town offers a restaurant, café, and even a coin-op machine outside a convenience store adorned with a Mazinger poster. It’s a township that radiates rural charm, even if Summer of Gods doesn’t lean into the particulars often enough.

Social Bonds Should Be Unrealistic

But pastoral pleasures are undone when Nini’s “demon sight” detects the presence of a broken seal, allowing for Kegai to arrive and possess one of Ashihara’s townsfolk. When this happens, Summer of Gods kicks off a five-day countdown toward Armageddon. Across the span of a work week, you’ll be spending the majority of your time networking with the twelve other NPCs. Not only do these interactions help increase the base stats of you and your fellow townsfolk, but they can also help reveal who the Kegai have chosen to possess. The result is an oddly incongruent adventure where leisurely summer activities collide with the possibility of killing an innocent community member.

Peer into Loop8’s menus, and you’ll find intricately modeled graphs that quantify the friendship, affinity, and even hatred each character has towards the other twelve citizens. Outside of the menus, you’ll be able to see a persistent indicator of each person’s overall mood which is influenced by their location and the presence of other characters. Yet despite all the detail, Summer of Gods relational model can be perplexing (do we need two variables for ‘like’ and ‘dislike’?) and often unrealistic.

Why So Tsun, Everyone?

When another character is on the same screen, a button press reveals a growing list of actions that can range from a verbal compliment, to playful teasing, and the ability to go on a walk together. If the NPC accepts your offer, you’ll both earn a stat boost and your relationship grows tighter. While these showcase any adjustments to relational measurements, they lack the kind of fleeting cutscenes that intensify emotions. Yes, the world might be ending, but give me a moment to hold hands with a tsundere or two and lock eyes.

But all too often, seemingly close friends will snub you, undermining the simulation. Although Loop8 classified my relationship with the saucy redhead Terasu as “kindred spirits” and she would intermittently initiate conversation, she would also regularly reject my small talk. Even the town’s resident otaku, Nanachi would snub me. Even in the long run, Loop8’s social bonds rarely feel intimate. Yes, I might have gone on six walks with the town’s resident introvert, but I still don’t know that much about her. When I do learn more about some characters, their eccentric behavior isn’t given much justification.

Not Right Now, Nini!

While the refusals are oddly realistic (human behavior can be surprisingly complex), they can also be frustrating since it deviates from how games like Persona and even most dating sims tend to depict social bonds. Undoubtedly, some of the snubs are deliberate and designed so that you don’t quickly maximize bonds with a few characters while ignoring everyone else. But the developers should have implemented a more straightforward limit. Similarly, devoted characters are willing to join your party and follow you into the underworld. But until you’ve reached some arbitrary statistical threshold, they’ll often quickly leave you. At least, they probably will on your first run.

Yes, as the game’s title implies, starting all over from the beginning is one of Loop8’s core mechanics. You’ll experience a Groundhog Day-style time loop if Nini dies or if you should you ask a certain character to perform a time reset. When this happens, you’re base stats and the memories of all NPCs are wiped, forcing you to start the struggle anew.

Here’s the good news: a magical flying squirrel named Musasa, randomly assigns permanent bonuses to your stats. Additionally, each subsequent playthrough increases the stats associated with social bonds a bit quicker. But there’s also an inexcusable downside. Not only does Musasa say the same damn thing every time you earn a bonus, but NPC conversations across additional runs also repeat such of the same dialog. Sure, you’ll uncover a bit more of Loop8’s overarching plotline, but even after achieving a successful ending, there are quite a few dangling ambiguities left unexplored.

Go Easy on the “Hate” Button

Instead of squaring off again Kegai in any kind of traditional labyrinth, you’ll encounter them in an underworld version of Ashihara. Essentially, this recycles the exact same environmental assets while adding a blue filter. This kind of apathy also applies to the game’s battles. Yes, talking to subordinates intermittently triggers a fight, earning a stat boost for one of your party members. But if one of your fellow adventurers dies in the underworld, they’ll be gone until the next time loop.

Combat is turn-based but not especially absorbing. Sure, you can use Nini’s Demon Sight to identify your foe’s next attack, but like non-boss encounters, it’s largely optional. Summer of Gods does have a mechanic where you’re meant to select what kind of emotion your enemy is feeling. But beyond pushing an opponent to go aggro by selecting ‘hate’ too often, there’s not much depth to it. Games that seize control of your fellow party member rarely make consistently good decisions. And woefully, Loop8 is yet another example of why autonomy is much more fulfilling than AI in combat.

Conclusion

There’s occasional visual sumptuousness, like when the camera catches a curtain swaying in the summer breeze inside Nini’s classroom. But when Loop8: Summer of Gods reuses its locations for the underworld or positions NPC where it’s difficult to interact with them, there’s a sense that the game was rushed. Scampering around Ashihara Nakatsu, attempting to cancel the Kegai invasion by hurriedly making friends, reminded me that haste could be necessary, but it can also be detrimental. Likely, you’ll wish that Summer of Gods development team has slowed down. There are some good ideas present, but often they don’t reach a satisfying fruition.

Loop8: Summer of Gods was played on PC
with review code provided by the publisher.