Wheels of Aurelia, developed and published by Santa Ragione, is a narrative-driven road trip game that merges minimalist driving mechanics with a branching dialogue system to tell an intimate story set in late 1970s Italy. At its heart, it is less about racing or competition and more about the conversations, atmosphere, and cultural reflections that unfold along the journey. You play as Lella, a sharp-minded and strong-willed woman traveling along the Via Aurelia, a coastal highway stretching from Rome toward France. Over the course of her trip, she picks up passengers, encounters strangers, and confronts personal and political questions that define her generation. The game’s core appeal lies in its exploration of identity, social change, and the sense of freedom that comes from being on the open road, even as it captures the uneasy undercurrent of a country in transition.

From its opening moments, Wheels of Aurelia establishes a vivid sense of time and place. The year is 1978, and Italy is undergoing a period of political unrest and cultural redefinition, known as the “Years of Lead.” The art style reflects this setting beautifully with its flat-shaded 3D environments, warm pastel tones, and comic book-inspired character portraits. The minimalist presentation feels nostalgic yet stylish, emphasizing the elegance of motion over realism. The car’s movement down the coastal highway serves as both literal travel and metaphorical passage through a turbulent historical moment. Complementing this is the game’s outstanding soundtrack—an eclectic mix of Italian pop, rock, and folk songs that lend authenticity to the atmosphere. Each track, paired with the steady hum of the engine and the sound of waves breaking on distant shores, helps evoke a bittersweet mood of freedom tinged with melancholy.

The gameplay itself is deceptively simple but carefully designed to reinforce the narrative experience. The car drives automatically at a constant speed, leaving you to steer gently through traffic and make conversational choices as the story unfolds. Each dialogue option shapes your character’s personality, influencing relationships and determining which narrative branches you encounter. The driving component functions less as a challenge and more as a rhythmic backdrop, a way to simulate the hypnotic calm of a long drive while engaging in thought-provoking exchanges. In one playthrough, you might debate feminism, religion, or political violence with your passenger; in another, you might find yourself in tense or tender moments with strangers you meet along the way. The game features sixteen possible endings, and each run lasts roughly fifteen minutes, encouraging replayability and experimentation. The brevity of each journey makes every conversation feel fleeting, as if you’re catching fragments of lives that intersect only briefly before diverging again.

What makes Wheels of Aurelia stand out is its willingness to tackle complex themes within such a compact framework. Through dialogue, it touches on issues of gender equality, the lingering influence of fascism, class divides, and the shifting role of women in postwar Italian society. Lella herself is a fascinating character—outspoken, independent, and at times defiant of the expectations placed upon her. Her story isn’t told through exposition but through conversation, revealing bits and pieces of her past as you drive forward. Depending on your choices, she can come across as compassionate, confrontational, or introspective, and her interactions with passengers—ranging from political radicals to hitchhikers and runaways—shed light on the fractured ideologies of the era. The writing captures a natural rhythm, managing to feel authentic without being overly verbose, and the brevity of each exchange makes you pay attention to every word.

Despite its strong atmosphere and narrative ambition, the game is not without its shortcomings. The driving mechanics, while thematically fitting, are so minimal that they verge on perfunctory. You can steer left and right to avoid cars or switch lanes, but these actions rarely have any real consequence. Some players may find this lack of mechanical engagement underwhelming, especially those expecting a traditional driving or simulation experience. Likewise, the branching narrative, though conceptually rich, doesn’t always deliver on its promise of meaningful divergence. Many playthroughs feel similar, with only subtle variations in dialogue or endings that differ more in tone than in substance. Because each run is so short, the impact of your decisions can feel fleeting rather than profound, and the repetition required to uncover all sixteen endings may test the patience of players looking for deeper gameplay variety. Yet, these limitations are somewhat offset by the game’s strong sense of mood and character—its ability to capture the feeling of motion and introspection that a long drive often inspires.

In many ways, Wheels of Aurelia is best understood as an interactive art piece rather than a conventional game. It’s an experience designed to evoke reflection rather than mastery, to immerse you in a specific time, place, and mindset rather than challenge your reflexes or problem-solving skills. Its strength lies in the emotional texture of its world—the mixture of nostalgia, rebellion, and uncertainty that defines the late 1970s. For players who enjoy narrative experiments or games like 80 Days or Kentucky Route Zero, this title offers a similarly meditative and socially aware experience. It’s a road trip that’s not about the destination but the conversations and self-discoveries that happen along the way. Each new passenger you meet becomes a mirror reflecting different aspects of Italy’s past and Lella’s personal struggles.

Ultimately, Wheels of Aurelia is a small but memorable journey through a turbulent chapter of European history. It captures the fleeting beauty of travel, the complexity of identity, and the quiet power of dialogue in shaping understanding. Though it may be too brief and mechanically limited for some, its evocative art style, outstanding soundtrack, and thoughtful writing make it a distinctive entry in the growing field of narrative-driven indie games. It’s a game that lingers not because of high scores or fast cars, but because of the way it makes you think about the world that was—and perhaps, the one we still live in today.

Rating: 5/10