Acquiring the inevitable double-jump ability in a Metroidvania these days tends to feel simultaneously reassuring and disappointing.
Yes, it’s a simple, reliable technique that instantly opens tracts of the map for exploration, but it’s also a mark of conventional design. It’s to the credit of Hadoque, then, that it presents a guileful solution in Ultros, introducing that extra leap as expected, then at intervals taking it away again. This simple piece of tinkering suggests the developer knows both what makes a Metroidvania tick and that the genre needs freshening up. But it’s merely the beginning. Few would guess from that gesture alone quite how deep Ultros’s subversive roots spread.
Indeed, the truth oftakes time to emerge. On first impression, while it would be trite to describe it as a psychedelic it wouldn’t be entirely inaccurate. A ’60s acid-trip vibe pervades, thanks to heavy visual inspiration from Moebius and a queasy-groovy colour palette of radioactive purples and greens. Yet accompanying this world’s exquisite frescos are a symphony of squelchy, chittering noise and nests of hostile wildlife. Alien plants tangle around ruins and mechanical devices, which add to the mystery of your largely isolated expedition. While you’re actually touring a space station – apparently wrapped around a black hole – you could almost be on Zebes or Tallon IV.
