I bought this on a whim, expecting a cutesy, indie, "choose-your-ending,""choices matter" style graphic novel with a few horror twists, something to blow off a few hours on, but the innocent impression I got from the store page had deceived me. What I found was less a game and more a thorough, surreal, psycho-dynamic allegory serving the exploration of the anima (for all you adherents of Jung) in its myriad forms, pursued naturally through your intimate interactions with her and how these change you both, faithfully managing to maintain archetypal coherence within its impressively wide psychological context, all while weaving a deeper narrative spanning across all your attempts at slaying/saving the "princess." Only at the end, when the greater perspective you had been guided towards nears its apex and you are confronted with the full beauty and terror of the collective feminine nature -of the soul, as Jung understood it- does the true weight and implication of the question really set in: will you slay her, or save her? In other words: having witnessed the full range, depth and breadth of all that she is, from the radiant heights of her grace to the blackest pits of fermented malice, from frightening vulnerability to ruthless brutality, from trust, hope and tenderness, to wrath, despair, and cruelty; from white to black to white again, will you accept the feminine in its terrible, glorious entirety? Or will you reject her?

Depth of content aside, I also think it's worth pointing out the biggest gripe I often have with the "choices matter" approach in games, being that the choices I am offered sometimes do not reflect the choice I would actually make in a given situation, which just completely ruins the experience for me. I grew increasingly impressed, as my playtime accumulated, that not once did I come across a scene where my feelings and natural response where not reflected to my satisfaction in the dialogue options presented to me, and then some. This made my first play-through an intensely personal and highly immersive experience. Furthermore, there is no implicit moralising, no subliminal signalling as to what is the right or wrong choice at ANY point throughout the entire game that stood out to me, and that means something, given the nature of your task, the choices it spawns, and the gravitas with which it is all treated. From innocent beginning to the very end, the game is completely non-judgemental. There are only justifiable choices, ostensibly right responses given the situation, as well as fair leeway for frivolity, and to each their consequences... This feels like an intentional oversight in the writing at first, a mechanic to enable the player to act as they would, but the point quickly comes where you are invited to understand that the question of judgement is in fact central to the entire premise. Regardless of whether you are honest to yourself or delude yourself in your choices, whether you take it seriously or are flippant, kind or cruel, sincere or manipulative, the game accounts for your motives and presents you indifferently with the product of acting on them, and the vacuum left by an external judge becomes an echo chamber in which the consequences of your actions resound until you absorb them. While you would be correct in pointing out that neutrality is the hallmark of any "choices matter" game that takes itself seriously, I would argue that Slay the Princess goes beyond the standard role of silent mirror of moral responsibility, not least because there is nothing abstract about its message; it hits you in a form that all of us can understand, right in the feels. It is, at bottom, an unapologetic confrontation with your()self, and I wonder if something that goes so far and does it so well can or should be considered a game.

An absolutely beautiful and deceptively deep gem that will leave its mark on you if you are open to it, and an entertaining and memorable experience even if you are not.