Monark review

With a storyline infatuated with the cerebral and characters traits that adjust according to your personality, Monark is hardly your run-of-the-mill role-playing title. If has a few frustrating flaws but it’s ambition ultimately outweighs its imperfections.

For Monark, Shinjuku-based developer Lancarse gathered a team of veteran writers. There’s Aya Nishitani, the author of the Digital Devil Story novels which inspired the Megami Tensei series. Additionally, Ryutaro Ito and Kazunari Suzuki, who penned the storyline for the inaugural Shin Megami Tensei title, contributed their own talents to the game.

While some elements of the first SMT entry might seem a bit archaic these days, the 1992 game demonstrated that role-playing games don’t have to be rooted in vaguely medieval, fantasy-themed contexts. Instead, it was one of the first RPGs to explore the intermingling of region, philosophy, and morality, envisioning a post-apocalyptic world filled with humans, demons, and mythical creatures from several cultures. The game’s creativity spawned not just a prolific franchise, but also the Persona spin-off series, where players plumbed the psyche of its characters, providing some of the most intimate perspectives in contemporary gaming.

Perpetual Detention

For better or worse, Lancarse’s experienced squad doesn’t deviate too far from the modern but morose settings of Persona. Monark takes place at the Shin Mikado Academy, where a madness-inducing mist has filled the school’s hallways and a persistent barrier prevents anyone from escaping or an attempt at rescue from the outside world. Expectedly, contamination and confinement are taking a toll on those trapped inside, with reports of killings and otherworldly phenomena inside the hermetically-sealed walls.

After becoming exposed to the mysterious miasma, Monark’s protagonist loses consciousness and is rescued by several of his classmates. When he awakens, he’s stricken with amnesia, learning that the mist is caused when a human becomes a Pactbearer, forming a bond with daemons known as a Monark. The game’s journey revolves around joining a new student council determined to defeat the seven Pactbearers and their daemon associates, thereby exorcising evil from the academy.

Getting in Your Head

As such, Monark will inevitably be compared with the Persona games. But whereas the Atlus’ property was built around Carl Jung’s concept of metaphorical masks, which people don to both make an impression and conceal their identify, Monark takes inspiration from Adlerian Psychology.

Alfred Adler believed that humans are more likely to fulfill their potential when they experience acceptance, respect, and the feeling that are significant. The game’s opening moments present players with a fifteen-question personality assessment, plotting your disposition as degrees of the seven deadly sins. Inferiority and inadequacy often drive our actions, Adler argued. Qualities like sloth, wrath, or envy are either a repercussion or a cause of these deficiencies, Monark claims.

When the Shin Mikado Academy Dean stated that I was driven by vanity, I was taken back and goaded into learning more about this discomfiting finding. And that’s one of the best things about Monark; it had me thinking if moments were mere storytelling or whether they were intended to provoke some kind of emotional response. Although the latter doesn’t happen with the frequency I would have liked, there are a few salient moments where you’ll actively wonder if the game is messing with you. Plus, it’s refreshing to think of character attributes outside of the typical statistical measures of strength, intelligence, constitution, etc.

Vanitas, you are No Teddie or Morgana

Sadly, I suspect Monark’s cast will be measured against the rosters of the Persona entries and will fall a bit short. The issue isn’t that they are rooted in trope. Sure, you have the archetypal “little sister” to draw out feelings of protectives and exhibit jealous toward other girls as well as the lazy, thirty-old doctor who reluctantly becomes a surrogate father figure. But at the end of Monark’s forty or so hour trek and after one of it’s four endings, the cast just isn’t as memorable as Persona. Nearly fifteen years later, I’m tempted every time I pass by a figurine of Chie Satonaka or Rise Kujikawa, and it seems doubtful I’ll feel the same about Monark’s characters. They’re mostly interesting but lack the richness of Atlus’ cherished games.

But like Rise, there’s vulnerability communicated by the game’s cast. Monark delves deeper than many of its role-playing contemporaries, exploring topics like suicide, bullying, and stalking. What’s just as remarkable is that several of the game’s Pactbearers have interesting backstories and motivations, potentially generating some empathy of the game’s villains. Yes, that’s Monark messing with you. Similarly, there is Vanitas, a sentient stuff rabbit toy who speaks in ambiguous rhythms and alliterations. Before long you way wonder if the writers are testing your patience, since his dialog is neither comical nor helpful.

The MAD(ness) Meter is Filling

Play is divided into two components: exploring the academy and engaging in combat. The former sends you exploring the schools’ vaporous halls, where each Pactbearer controls a different building. Being confined to a single locale can feel claustrophobic, as you speak with others and locate things like keys, locker combinations, or the answers to riddles which permit you to progress. Abnormalities like the sounds of slamming lockers and eerie moans are unnerving at first but grow less frightening as you scour for the clues needed to advance the game.

Once, I was stuck for about 90 minutes. I could see some people giving up on Monark since the game doesn’t recognize an impasse and offer any clues. Vanitas, your vague orations could have been useful in these moments.

Attack From the Back

On the upside, when conflict does erupt, Monark’s turn-based battle system has an invigorating number of risk/reward elements. While you can play it safe with standard attacks. But opt for a more powerful offense, and you’ll be forced to sacrifice a bit of health, or even increase the character’s MAD meter.

Allow the gauge to completely fill, and your party member will face a debilitating decrease of their defensive capabilities. Beyond being especially susceptible to enemy attacks, the unit will lose consciousnesses after three turns. But the silver lining is that offensive stats are given a significant increase, creating some frenzied fights, full of desperate turn-arounds. One of combat’s other nuances is Resonance, where adjacent allies share the same buffs and debuffs as a chosen character.

Positioning plays a crucial role in battle, with Monark shunning grids or hexes, allowing for the free movement of units. Confront enemies directly in front of you and you’ll leave yourself open to counterattack. As such, using one unit to bait a foe, while sending into a duo for an attack from behind is a consistently solid tactic. Overall, Monark’s battles are engaging. But there’s a need to grind to level up your rather expansive team of characters, which can diminish some of the appeal.

Conclusion

Monark’s offenses are minor. Beyond a cast that’s not as engaging as its contemporaries and a need for grinding, the game’s tone is uniformly grim. Venture through the hallways of Shin Mikado Academy and you’ll discover plenty of tragedy, as well as perspectives that might you evaluate how you think of of sin. Despite these transgressions, Monark will goad you into contemplation, which is still a bit too atypical for this medium.

Monark was played on PC and Switch with
review code provided by the publisher.