Heard There Was A Chosen One

Heard There Was A Chosen One is a top-down action-puzzle roguelike developed by Gestmorph Games, released in 2021 for Windows, Linux, and macOS. The game blends direct control mechanics with puzzle elements, set in a fixed/flip-screen environment. Players navigate a world where they must uncover the truth behind the titular ‘Chosen One’ while facing procedural challenges and enemies. Built using RPG Maker, the game offers a mix of strategic gameplay and exploration, with a focus on replayability and discovery.

Heard There Was A Chosen One: A Roguelike Deconstruction of Heroic Destiny

Introduction: The Myth of the Chosen One, Shattered

In an era where the “Chosen One” trope has been dissected, subverted, and parodied across every medium, Heard There Was A Chosen One (2021) emerges as a bold, meta-textual experiment—a game that doesn’t just question the archetype but weaponizes it against the player. Developed by the obscure yet ambitious Gestmorph Games and built in RPG Maker, this free-to-play roguelike is a deceptively simple top-down adventure that hides a razor-sharp critique beneath its pixelated surface. It’s a game about the absurdity of destiny, the cruelty of prophecy, and the sheer exhaustion of being the hero in a world that doesn’t just expect you to win—it demands it.

At its core, Heard There Was A Chosen One is a procedural nightmare. You are the titular hero, thrust into the Land of Hexile, a randomly generated world teeming with enemies, biomes, and golden bosses. But here’s the twist: the Dark Lord isn’t waiting at the end of your journey. He’s hunting you from the start. The moment you spawn, he begins his relentless pursuit, a looming, inevitable force that turns the traditional hero’s journey into a frantic, desperate scramble for survival. There’s no “chosen one” training montage, no wise mentor, no gradual power fantasy—just you, a bow, and the crushing weight of a prophecy you never asked for.

This review will dissect Heard There Was A Chosen One as both a game and a statement—a work that exists at the intersection of roguelike design, narrative satire, and existential dread. We’ll explore its development context, its mechanical brilliance (and flaws), its subversive storytelling, and its place in the broader conversation about video game tropes. By the end, you’ll understand why this little-known indie title is one of the most fascinating deconstructions of heroic destiny in modern gaming.

---

Development History & Context: A Game Born from Frustration

Gestmorph Games is not a household name, and that’s part of what makes Heard There Was A Chosen One so intriguing. The studio’s portfolio—There Was a Caveman (2015), There Was a Dream (2020), There Was the Moon (2020)—suggests a fascination with surreal, minimalist storytelling, often wrapped in retro aesthetics. But Chosen One feels different. It’s angrier. More urgent. The game’s Steam description, with its breathless, almost manic enthusiasm (“Yes! And The Dark Lord is after you right now!”), hints at a development team that’s not just playing with tropes but mocking them.

The game’s use of RPG Maker is telling. The engine, known for its accessibility and nostalgia, is often associated with earnest, heartfelt indie projects. But Gestmorph Games wields it like a scalpel, crafting a world that feels deliberately cheap—not in quality, but in its refusal to indulge in the trappings of epic fantasy. The fixed/flip-screen perspective, the top-down combat, the simple pixel art—all of it serves to strip away the grandeur typically associated with “Chosen One” narratives. This is no Zelda or Final Fantasy. It’s a game that looks like it was made in a weekend, and that’s the point.

The gaming landscape of 2021 was dominated by sprawling open-world epics (Elden Ring’s shadow loomed large) and narrative-driven experiences that treated the player as a hero of legend. Heard There Was A Chosen One arrived as a counterpoint—a game that asks, What if the prophecy is a lie? What if the Dark Lord doesn’t care about your destiny? What if you’re just another idiot with a sword, running for your life?

---

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive: The Chosen One as Cosmic Joke

The Premise: A Prophecy Without Meaning

The game’s narrative is minimalist to the point of absurdity. You are the Chosen One. The Dark Lord is coming. You must stop him. That’s it. There’s no lore dump, no exposition, no grand reveal about your lineage or the nature of evil. The game’s opening lines—“Yes! And The Dark Lord is after you right now!”—are delivered with the enthusiasm of a carnival barker hawking a rigged game. It’s a tone that permeates the entire experience: you’re not a hero. You’re a mark.

This refusal to engage with traditional storytelling is Heard There Was A Chosen One’s greatest strength. The game understands that the “Chosen One” trope is, at its core, a power fantasy—one that games have reinforced for decades. But here, that fantasy is denied. The Dark Lord isn’t a final boss to be challenged after hours of grinding; he’s an inescapable force, a literal manifestation of the player’s doom. The game’s procedurally generated world isn’t a playground for exploration—it’s a maze designed to wear you down.

The Dark Lord: Destiny as Pursuit

The Dark Lord is the game’s masterstroke. He’s not a stationary entity waiting at the end of a dungeon. He’s always moving toward you. Always. The game’s Steam description repeats this twice, as if to drill the horror of it into the player’s mind. This isn’t a boss fight. It’s a hunt. The Dark Lord’s presence transforms the game from a traditional action-adventure into a survival horror experience. Every second spent looting, every detour taken to fight a golden boss, is a second the Dark Lord gets closer.

This mechanic is a brilliant subversion of the “Chosen One” mythos. In most games, the hero’s destiny is a promise—a guarantee of eventual victory. Here, destiny is a threat. The prophecy isn’t about your triumph; it’s about your inevitable confrontation with a force you cannot outrun forever. The game’s tagline—“The game only ends when The Dark Lord is defeated or when you die”—is a grim reminder: you will lose. The only question is how long you can delay the inevitable.

The Absurdity of the Hero’s Journey

The game’s world, the Land of Hexile, is a surreal, almost Dadaist take on fantasy settings. The eight biomes are scattered randomly, each filled with enemies that exist solely to slow you down. The “giant golden bosses” aren’t epic challenges but distractions—obstacles that tempt you with rewards while the Dark Lord closes in. The “Ancient Bow,” the only weapon that can harm him, is less a legendary artifact and more a desperate tool, a last resort for a hero who’s already lost.

The game’s humor—its self-aware, almost manic tone—reinforces this absurdity. The description’s exclamation marks, the over-the-top warnings (“Look for treasure so you can become stronger and destroy the evil enemies to get supplies to fight back, especially the giant golden enemies!”), all of it reads like a parody of the breathless hype that surrounds “Chosen One” narratives. Heard There Was A Chosen One doesn’t just deconstruct the trope—it mocks it, reducing the hero’s journey to a frantic, doomed scavenger hunt.

Themes: Fate, Futility, and the Illusion of Choice

At its heart, the game is an exploration of futility. The Chosen One isn’t special. They’re not fated to win. They’re fated to run. The Dark Lord’s relentless pursuit is a metaphor for the inescapable nature of destiny itself—no matter how hard you try to outmaneuver it, it’s always there, always closing in.

The game also critiques the illusion of choice in video game narratives. In most RPGs, the “Chosen One” is given agency—they can choose their path, their allies, their destiny. Here, the only choice is how you fail. Do you stand and fight the Dark Lord early, knowing you’re not strong enough? Do you waste time grinding, only to be caught unawares? Do you flee, hoping to find a weapon that might—might—give you a chance? Every decision is a gamble, and the house always wins.

---

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems: A Roguelike of Desperation

Core Gameplay Loop: Run, Loot, Die

Heard There Was A Chosen One is, mechanically, a roguelike in the purest sense. Each run begins with a randomly generated world, a fresh set of enemies, and the Dark Lord’s immediate pursuit. The core loop is simple:
1. Run: Avoid the Dark Lord at all costs. His presence is marked on the map, a constant reminder of your impending doom.
2. Loot: Scavenge for treasure, weapons, and supplies. The game’s description promises “treasure and supplies through exploration,” but these are scarce, and every second spent searching is a second the Dark Lord gains.
3. Fight: Engage with the game’s ten enemy types and golden bosses. Combat is real-time and top-down, reminiscent of classic Zelda games, but the enemies are designed to be annoyances—obstacles that drain your resources and time.
4. Die: Inevitably, the Dark Lord catches you. Or you run out of supplies. Or you make a mistake. Death sends you back to the beginning, with nothing but the “special stamps” collected from bosses as a testament to your failure.

This loop is brutal by design. The game’s difficulty isn’t about skill—it’s about time management. The Dark Lord’s pursuit forces the player to make constant risk-reward calculations. Do you fight that golden boss for a potential upgrade, knowing it might cost you precious minutes? Do you ignore a treasure chest because it’s in the Dark Lord’s path? The game turns the traditional power fantasy on its head: instead of growing stronger, you’re always on the verge of collapse.

Combat and Progression: The Illusion of Growth

Combat in Heard There Was A Chosen One is deliberately clunky. The sword’s “swiping animation” (added in a post-launch update) is slow, the bow requires precision, and bombs are limited. Enemies are designed to be sponges—not because they’re challenging, but because they’re wasting your time. The golden bosses, in particular, are less about skill and more about endurance. They’re not tests of mastery; they’re tests of patience.

The game’s progression systems are equally cruel. There’s no permanent upgrades, no meta-progression between runs. The only “rewards” are the stamps collected from bosses—cosmetic trophies that serve as a grim reminder of how far you got before the Dark Lord caught you. This refusal to indulge in traditional RPG progression is a middle finger to the power fantasy. You don’t get stronger. You don’t learn from your mistakes. You just run again.

The Dark Lord’s Mechanics: A Relentless AI

The Dark Lord isn’t just a scripted event—he’s an active threat. His movement is tied to the player’s position, always advancing, always closing the distance. The game’s description notes that he’s “always moving towards you! Always,” and this isn’t hyperbole. He’s not a boss to be challenged when you’re ready. He’s a force of nature, and the only way to “win” is to delay the inevitable long enough to find the Ancient Bow and land a few shots before he crushes you.

This mechanic is the game’s most innovative—and frustrating—feature. It turns the traditional roguelike structure on its head. In most roguelikes, death is a learning experience, a chance to refine your strategy. Here, death is inevitable, and the only lesson is that you were never in control.

UI and Feedback: Minimalism as Punishment

The game’s UI is stripped-down to the point of hostility. There’s no map beyond a basic overview of biomes. There’s no clear indication of the Dark Lord’s exact position—just a general direction. Health and inventory are displayed with minimal fanfare. The game doesn’t want you to feel powerful. It wants you to feel lost.

The “Info Cards” added in the Under the Dungeon update (October 2021) are a rare concession to player guidance, but even these feel like mocking tutorials—reminders that you’re playing a game where the rules are stacked against you.

---

World-Building, Art & Sound: A Nightmare of Pixelated Dread

The Land of Hexile: A Procedural Purgatory

The Land of Hexile is a masterclass in anti-worldbuilding. There’s no lore, no history, no sense of place. The eight biomes are randomly scattered, each one a generic fantasy setting—forest, desert, cave—devoid of personality. The enemies are archetypes: skeletons, slimes, robots (a bizarre choice that reinforces the game’s surreal tone). The golden bosses are literal golden statues, as if the game is daring you to waste time fighting them.

This lack of depth is intentional. The Land of Hexile isn’t a world to be explored—it’s a prison. The procedural generation isn’t about discovery; it’s about disorientation. Every run is a new maze, a new set of obstacles designed to slow you down while the Dark Lord closes in.

Visuals: Retro as a Weapon

The game’s pixel art is deliberately ugly. The fixed/flip-screen perspective, the simple sprites, the garish colors—all of it feels like a throwback to the earliest days of indie game development. But this isn’t nostalgia. It’s aesthetic violence. The game’s visuals are a rejection of the polished, cinematic fantasy games that dominate the market. This isn’t Elden Ring or The Legend of Zelda. This is a game that looks like it was made in a fever dream, and that’s the point.

The Dark Lord himself is a towering, pixelated monstrosity, his design evoking classic Dragon Warrior or Final Fantasy villains—but stripped of their grandeur. He’s not a tragic figure or a godlike entity. He’s a force, a pixelated manifestation of the player’s doom.

Sound Design: The Soundtrack of Desperation

The game’s audio is minimalist, but effective. The soundtrack (if it can be called that) is a loop of tense, repetitive chiptunes that reinforce the game’s frantic pace. There’s no epic orchestral score, no triumphant fanfare—just a constant, pulsing reminder that time is running out.

The sound effects are equally sparse. The clink of collected treasure, the thwip of the bow, the crunch of the Dark Lord’s footsteps—all of it serves to heighten the tension. The game doesn’t need a complex audio design. It needs you to feel the clock ticking.

---

Reception & Legacy: A Cult Classic in the Making

Critical Reception: The Silence of the Overlooked

Heard There Was A Chosen One flew under the radar at launch. With no major marketing push and a free-to-play model, it didn’t generate the buzz of bigger indie darlings. Metacritic lists no critic reviews. MobyGames has no user scores. Steam reviews, while 100% positive, number only 14—a testament to the game’s niche appeal.

But among those who did play it, the game found a passionate audience. Players praised its brutal difficulty, its subversive humor, and its refusal to indulge in traditional power fantasies. The Under the Dungeon update (which added 50 new room layouts, new enemies, and a “Quick Restart” mode) was met with enthusiasm, suggesting that the game’s small but dedicated fanbase appreciated Gestmorph Games’ commitment to refining the experience.

Legacy: A Footnote with Teeth

Heard There Was A Chosen One isn’t a game that will redefine the industry. It’s too niche, too deliberately unfriendly for that. But its legacy lies in its ideas. It’s a game that takes the “Chosen One” trope—one of the most overused narratives in gaming—and twists it into something ugly and honest.

In an era where games like Hades and Dead Cells have redefined the roguelike as a story of triumph through persistence, Heard There Was A Chosen One offers a counter-narrative: What if persistence is futile? What if the prophecy is a lie? What if you’re not the hero—you’re the joke?

Its influence can be seen in the growing trend of “anti-power fantasy” games—titles like Darkest Dungeon, Cult of the Lamb, and Inscryption, which challenge the player’s assumptions about heroism and destiny. Heard There Was A Chosen One doesn’t have the polish or the budget of those games, but it has something rarer: a willingness to be cruel.

---

Conclusion: The Chosen One as Cosmic Punchline

Heard There Was A Chosen One is not a good game in the traditional sense. It’s clunky. It’s frustrating. It’s deliberately unfair. But it’s also brilliant—a razor-sharp deconstruction of one of gaming’s most sacred cows. It’s a game that understands the “Chosen One” trope not as a story of heroism, but as a cosmic joke, a prophecy that exists only to mock the player’s belief in their own importance.

In a medium that so often treats the player as a hero of legend, Heard There Was A Chosen One is a breath of fresh, toxic air. It’s a game that doesn’t just challenge you—it dares you to keep playing, knowing that the Dark Lord is always coming, always closer, always laughing.

Final Verdict: 8.5/10 – A Masterclass in Narrative Cruelty

Heard There Was A Chosen One isn’t for everyone. It’s a game that hates you, and it wants you to know it. But for those willing to engage with its bleak, absurdist vision, it’s an unforgettable experience—a roguelike that doesn’t just test your skills, but your will to keep believing in destiny at all.

And in the end, isn’t that the most heroic thing of all?