2 hours ago
12
Between the accidental incest, the dragons, and the farcical aquatic ceremonies, King Arthur's reign was a real rollercoaster and a half, but at least he never had an Ursula. In Sovereign Tower, the turn-based "Round Table management RPG" from Wild Wits Games, Ursula is one of the knights you can recruit to send on quests around a downfallen fantasy kingdom.
Ursula has a shrewd mind and a nose for the arcane, making her a fine choice in theory for missions that involve stolen grimoires and talking wheels of cheese. But she is also a creepy little git with no sense of responsibility. She hates when I ask her to do anything "diplomatic", like attending village fetes. She hates retrieving eldritch relics, despite her character stats being perfect for this. She hates when I say anything too grown-up in the throneroom. She hates answering questions. Like many a housecat, she both craves attention and resents it. Also like many a housecat, she eats spiders. In one early optional chinwag, you find Ursula grinding up stray orb-weavers to make a beverage apparently beloved of whatever dubious county she hails from.
I'm gradually building up a tolerance for Ursula's arachnid brew, mostly because I'm trying to seduce her. This is despite the fact that, strictly speaking, I've only ever drunk one glass. You see, Sovereign Tower is a game about time-rewinding. As Sovereign of the Tower, you have a demon relic that can roll back the seasons, leaving your character's knowledge and stats unchanged. The demon relic is clearly up to no good, and I swore against using its powers at first. But then I accidentally sent all my gallants on manoeuvres, the day before a fearsomely bearded Dragon Knight challenged me to a duel. The Dragon Knight duly arrived to behead me, and I promptly fell into a spiral of rewinds. In the process, I overcame my initial revulsion for Ursula's wine. If anything, the taste is getting a little anodyne.
As is the associated flirtatious banter. Sovereign Tower's time rewinding obviously introduces a bit of repetition, and after 3-4 hours, I worry this may be the thing that keeps me from finishing the game. To begin with, it's a delight: a lush Celtic creation that feels like Reigns blown up into a 'proper' RPG, with a paper map that sort of resembles medieval Brittany. Wild Wits hail from that neck of the woods, which makes me curious about whether the mention of an evil encroaching empire is a reference to the Kingdom of France. A work of covert Breton nationalism, perchance? Somebody with a relevant history degree please look into this.
The days follow a simple cycle: you head to your throneroom to hear petitions from the realm, then assign your knights to quests accordingly. You'll need to worry about your gold reserves, together with your reputation among factions of scholars, merchants, peasants and nobles. And you'll need to weigh the competing egos and foibles of your knights, all of whom have personal connections and a stake in wider society. Early-game specimens of chivalry include Gwendan, a princeling whose enchanted armour is more sparkle than sorcery, and the robust and true-hearted Angelica, who is afraid of ghosts.
These are routine fantasy comedy stereotypes, perhaps, but the writers handle them well and the dialogue is concise and funny. The character artworks themselves are artfully dishevelled and sodden with various vintages of sex appeal. Well, maybe apart from the jester who rocks up complaining that he has succumbed to a sorcerous stench, but I had a good laugh at his daft expressions.
Whether you're interested in bedding your knights or not, you'll need to probe a bit to get the most out of them. Aside from upgradeable base stats, each knight has a mix of half-hidden traits such as Animal Lover or a preference for solitude. Some of these dictate how they'll feel about being assigned certain missions, raising or lowering a loyalty bar. Others contribute invisibly to the odds of success, maybe unlocking an obscure outcome hinted at by quest descriptions.
You can uncover knightly traits by assigning a professional socialite to flush up some gossip, but naturally, it's more satisfying to tease them out over a flagon of tarantula grog or regional equivalent. The quests themselves don't require you to do much, once you've assigned your knights: the game just adds up the points from each knight's stats and traits. But figuring out who is best suited to which labour, and fudging their shortcomings by giving them the right weapons or a noble steed, takes some rewarding thought. That talking cheese I mentioned earlier is very helpful for quests that require the gift of the gab.
Even if you complete a quest, the knight may lose health and even pop their clogs. It's important to minimise risks, but such is the volume of petitions, that it's easy to overcommit. Some of the quests are timed: if you don't thwart the pirate raid on that village, you'll have to spend coin to rebuild it later. Others last a couple of turns, and anything could happen while those knights are away.
So yes, I've been enjoying it. But then comes that element of repetition. Wild Wits do make it part of the story, in fairness, and streamline the proceedings in places. When revisiting petitions, there's the option to let your increasingly "omniscient" Sovereign skip brusquely ahead, much to the unease of other characters. There are events and apparitions that are triggered by rewinding the clock – the arrival of a snake-eyed wanderer, for example, who is clearly aware that you've seen it all several times before. The availability and order of more elementary quests also change a little between runs, care of an absent-minded courier.
To an extent, it's only as repetitive as you allow it to be. Why not send different knights on different quests? Why not throw your lot in with different counties or factions? Still, if you've settled on a throughline for your Sovereign, it may be irritating to click through the same dialogue choices. In my case, I played uninterrupted for three hours, but lost a lot of enthusiasm after hitting my first reset. I suspect there's greatness on the other side of that ennui – a proper timeloop intrigue. But for the moment, I'll be shelving Sovereign Tower and waiting till my impatience has ebbed away, along with the savour of Ursula's appalling wine.
English (US) ·