Deliver Us From Evil: Masquerade

Deliver Us From Evil: Masquerade is a first-person visual novel that blends supernatural mystery with otome romance, set in a fantasy world where heavenly beings intervene in human affairs. Players take on the role of Ariel, a young angel tasked by the Archangel Michael to investigate dark and sinister human wishes, making choice-driven decisions to partner with one of three charming characters and uncover the truth across multiple endings in this narrative-driven adventure.

Deliver Us From Evil: Masquerade: A Gothic Fracture in the Otome Paradigm

Introduction

In the bustling ecosystem of indie visual novels, where romantic fantasy often collides with high-concept genre blending, Deliver Us From Evil: Masquerade emerges not as a sequel, but as a potent and dissonant side-story. Released in October 2021 by the nascent Galen Games, Masquerade represents a deliberate fracture in the narrative and tonal blueprint established by its parent game, Deliver Us From Evil (DUFE). While DUFE carved a niche as a gothic otome visual novel starring an angelic protagonist and her two celestial suitors, Masquerade pivots sharply, trading the female-centric, player-driven romance for a male-male (BL) narrative focused on two centuries-old, sexually intimate friends, Keldran and Ace. This review posits that Masquerade is a fascinating, if uneven, case study in genre fluidity and narrative audacity. It proves that a game jam-born project can wield profound thematic depth—exploring insecurity, identity, and relational trauma through a haunted house lens—while simultaneously revealing the growing pains of a small studio straddling multiple audience expectations. Its legacy is twofold: as a polished, atmospheric BL vignette and as a catalyst for heated community discourse on the porous boundaries of the “otome” label.

Development History & Context: A Jam-Born Experiment

Deliver Us From Evil: Masquerade was birthed under a dual creative pressure. It was conceived as a submission for the Spooktober 2021 Visual Novel Jam, a thematic competition demanding a horror-tinged narrative. Simultaneously, it existed within the expanding universe of Deliver Us From Evil, the main otome game released just months prior in June 2021 for the Otome Jam 2021. This dual heritage is fundamental to understanding its identity.

The studio, Galen Games LTD, was a tiny, largely unknown entity at the time, helmed by Art/Director Crysil. The team was surprisingly large for an indie jam project, with dedicated writers (Rico Hatton, LunaMakaio), composer (Ednar Pinho), programmers (Ayael, Rowanty, FallRight), and a full voice cast. Yet, the production cycle for the broader DUFE project was blisteringly fast—the main game was built in two months to meet the Otome Jam deadline. Masquerade, while a separate entry, likely shared many assets and a condensed development timeframe. Technologically, the team relied on the accessible, script-heavy Ren’Py engine, a standard for visual novels that allows for rich text and simple animation but constrains complex gameplay systems.

The gaming landscape of late 2021 was fertile for such an experiment. Steam and itch.io had fully democratized visual novel distribution, creating thriving micro-communities for niche genres like otome, BL, and gothic horror. Galen Games’ vision was to subvert the often-saccharine tone of many otome games by injecting a gothic, supernatural atmosphere drawn from biblical and horror lore. Masquerade specifically aimed to explore psychological horror within a confined, supernatural setting (a haunted house), a sharp departure from the wider investigative framework of DUFE. The constraints were clear: limited resources meant partial voice acting (only key lines for main characters), reliance on static sprite and background art, and a narrative that needed to be compact yet impactful for a jam submission. The result is a game that feels handmade, ambitious, and visibly aware of its own budgetary borders.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive: The Haunting of the Self

Where Deliver Us From Evil (DUFE) is about an angel investigating humanity’s external darkness, Masquerade turns the lens inward, framing the horror as a manifestation of internal insecurities. The plot is elegantly simple and brutally effective: Keldran and Ace, two Nephilim (half-angel/half-demon) and centuries-long “friends with benefits,” visit a haunted house for a lark. The house, however, is inhabited by a “ravenous spirit that wears their faces,” forcing them to confront literal and figurative doppelgängers that prey on their deepest fears and unresolved tensions.

The narrative structure is a binary choice from the start: players choose to follow either Keldran or Ace for the entire ~15,000-word story. This is not a romance route in the traditional otome sense of building stats to win a character’s heart; it is an immersive, horror-tinged character study of an existing, complex relationship. The writing excels in this intimate scope. Dialogue crackles with the comfortable, sexually charged banter of a long-term relationship, but the spirit’s manipulation twists this familiarity into something grotesque. The story interrogates how unspoken feelings and unaddressed insecurities can become haunted houses of their own. Keldran’s canonical pride and stoicism are weaponized against him, while Ace’s cheerful, seemingly uncomplex facade is revealed to have profound emotional blockages—a point so sharp it becomes a meta-joke (“His emotional blockages have emotional blockages”).

Thematically, Masquerade is a compact masterclass in psychological horror rooted in relational dynamics. It explores:
* The Fear of Being Unseen/Replaced: The spirit wearing their faces suggests a terror of being usurped or rendered irrelevant.
* The Vulnerability of Intimacy: True intimacy requires exposing one’s fears, but the spirit makes that exposure a literal, inescapable prison.
* Redemption Through Confession: The path to survival is not through combat, but through navigating unspoken feelings—a direct callback to the “choice” mechanic, where the right dialogue options require vulnerability, not deflection.

However, the brevity that is a strength also reveals a weakness. The backstory of Keldran and Ace’s centuries-long dynamic is referenced but not deeply explored. Players coming from DUFE have prior context (Keldran is the Nephilim son of Lucifer, Ace is a demon/incubus), but for those playing Masquerade standalone, the emotional weight of their history can feel slightly abstract. The ending, while satisfying and earned, arrives swiftly, leaving some narrative threads tantalizingly thin—a deliberate choice for a short-form jam piece, but one that inevitably sparks demand for the “Cadenza” DLC to fully flesh out their polyamorous future.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems: Choice as Survival

As a visual novel built in Ren’Py, Masquerade‘s gameplay loop is fundamentally about reading and selecting. There are no stats to manage, no puzzles to solve, no combat. The entire “gameplay” is invested in the dialogue and menu choices that determine whether Keldran or Ace (or both, in a sense) can overcome the spirit’s psychological assault.

The choice system is binary and narrative-critical. Decisions often present as: Do you confront the fear head-on, or do you retreat into sarcasm? Do you express your true feeling, or do you mask it with flirtation? Success is gated not by a relationship meter, but by the player’s ability to select the option that demonstrates genuine emotional honesty and mutual support. This makes the playthrough feel less like “winning” a romance and more like solving a relational puzzle under supernatural duress. The “game over” is not a bad ending per se, but a failure to connect, resulting in the pair becoming “silent spirits, wandering the halls forever.”

Character progression is non-existent in a traditional RPG sense. The only form of progression is unlocking the story’s conclusion and its associated CGs (Character Graphics). The UI is a clean, standard Ren’Py interface, with a notable highlight being the superb sprite animations. Characters’ mouths move in sync with the voice acting (a technical feat praised by players), and subtle animations (like a butterfly in the “garden” scene) add a layer of life to static images.

The partial voice acting is a defining feature. Key lines for Keldran (voiced by Alex Gardipe) and Ace (voiced by Ryan Hoyle) are delivered with palpable chemistry—Gardipe’s deep, controlled growl for Keldran contrasts perfectly with Hoyle’s smooth, seductive cadence for Ace. However, the inconsistency is jarring: minor characters and large swaths of narration remain silent, creating an uneven auditory landscape. This is a common constraint in indie VNs but feels particularly noticeable given the high quality of the VO that is present.

Innovation lies in the integration of supernatural mechanics into choice design. The “detecting lies” or “persuading” mentioned in the DUFE description is less explicit here, but the entire plot is predicated on Ace and Keldran using their supernatural senses and abilities (demon/angelic perception) to see through the spirit’s illusions. The choices are implicitly about how they use these abilities—aggressively or collaboratively.

World-Building, Art & Sound: Gothic Intimacy

Masquerade’s world is a claustrophobic,的心理化 gothic space. The “haunted house” is not just a setting; it is a psychodrama made manifest. The location is less a traditional mansion and more a surreal, shifting nightmare that reflects the protagonists’ inner turmoil. The visual direction excels through its art style and use of color. The sprite art for Keldran and Ace is exceptionally detailed and expressive, with Keldran’s sharp, noble features and Ace’s playful yet sharp demonic traits (white hair, violet eyes, demon tail) rendered with striking consistency. The backgrounds are moody and atmospheric, though a few transitions can feel abrupt, a limitation of the flip-screen format and budget.

The sound design and music are arguably the game’s most universally praised elements. Composer Ednar Pinho delivers a haunting, melodic score that blends gothic choirs, melancholic piano, and subtle electronic undertones. The soundtrack perfectly underscores the duality of romance and horror—a theme song might start as a sensual,缓慢的 melody before distorting into something dissonant as the spirit attacks. The use of leitmotifs for Keldran (proud, orchestral) and Ace (sinuous, playful) enhances their distinct personalities. The sound design itself is sparse but effective: creaking doors, distant whispers, and the ever-present, unsettling hum of the house.

The atmosphere is the game’s crowning achievement. Every element—the muted color palette, the dramatic lighting on sprites, the oppressive yet beautiful score—works in concert to create a feeling of romantic dread. It’s a space where a tender moment between the two leads can curdle into terror in an instant. This atmospheric cohesion makes the short playtime feel immersive and weighty.

Reception & Legacy: A Lightning Rod for Genre Discourse

Upon its October 2021 release (it appears on Steam with a 2022 date but was available on itch.io earlier), Masquerade garnered a dedicated, enthusiastic niche reception but flew under the radar of mainstream criticism. There are no critic reviews on aggregators like Metacritic, and MobyGames lists it with a minimal “n/a” score. Its legacy is built entirely on player testimonials and community conversation.

The itch.io page holds a stellar 4.5/5 star rating from 71+ users. The comment section is a treasure trove of qualitative feedback. Praise is consistent and effusive for:
* The art and animation quality (“beautiful sprites,” “smooth animations”).
* The voice acting (“voice acting ugh especially Keldran’s growl”).
* The chemistry between Keldran and Ace (“their dynamic is so cute”).
* The UI and soundtrack (“AMAZING gui”).
* The satisfying, intimate ending.

Criticisms, while fewer, are pointed:
* Pacing: Some found the story “a bit too fast-paced,” feeling the haunted house scenario escalated rapidly.
* Character Depth for Newcomers: Players unfamiliar with DUFE sometimes felt Keldran and Ace’s history was too hinted-at, not explained.
* Technical Hiccups: Reports of crashes on older hardware (like a 1.60GHz CPU laptop) and specific MacBook glitches in animation-heavy scenes.
* Ariel’s Character (in DUFE context): While not about Masquerade, a significant portion of the broader DUFE/Masquerade comment thread is dominated by debate over the female protagonist Ariel’s perceived “cluelessness” in the main game, with some players feeling an angel should be more perceptive. Galen Games openly acknowledged this feedback, noting they “addressed these issues” in a “Director’s cut edition” of Michael’s route.

However, the most explosive and defining aspect of its reception was the genre and representation controversy it ignited in the comment sections of MobyGames and itch.io. Masquerade is explicitly a BL (Boy’s Love) / Gay visual novel. Yet, it exists under the Deliver Us From Evil brand, which is primarily an otome (female-oriented GxB romance) series. This led to a protracted, messy debate in the comments:
* Some otome players felt “blindsided” or “spoiled” by the BL content, expressing that they expected a GxB experience and felt the MC in the main DUFE was now “a third wheel” to the pre-existing relationship between Ace and Keldran. They argued for content warnings or genre tagging.
* Allies and queer players forcefully rebutted this, asserting that bisexual characters (like Ace) are inherently compatible with otome (which is defined by the player-character’s gender, not the love interests’ exclusive sexuality). They highlighted the prevalence of biphobia in demanding characters have no prior same-sex history.
* The debate touched on genre purity, audience expectation, and inclusive storytelling. It revealed a community in flux, negotiating the boundaries of “otome” in an era of increasingly fluid character writing.

This controversy, more than any review, cemented Masquerade‘s cultural footprint. It became a flashpoint for discussions about labeling, audience segmentation, and the ethics of surprise queer content in genre fiction. Galen Games’ response was consistent: they did not apologize for the content but clarified the game’s nature and continued to develop the polyamorous route in Cadenza. The heated exchange itself is a significant part of the game’s history, demonstrating how a small release can become a nexus for larger conversations about representation.

Its direct influence on the industry is minimal in terms of mechanics or aesthetics. It did not pioneer new technology or narrative structures. However, its indirect influence is in its demonstration of narrative dare: a tiny studio used a game jam to explore a same-sex relationship within a universe ostensibly built for another audience, and then committed to expanding that story via DLC. It stands as a testament to the flexibility of the visual novel medium and the power of community platforms like itch.io to host experiments that major publishers might avoid.

Conclusion: A Flawed, Courageous Gem

Deliver Us From Evil: Masquerade is not a perfect game. Its shortness limits emotional excavation, its pacing occasionally races, and its reliance on prior DUFE knowledge (or suspension thereof) can create a barrier. Yet, to judge it solely by the standards of a full-priced, AAA title is to miss its profound achievement.

Within its compact ~1-hour runtime, it delivers a sincerely terrifying and emotionally resonant haunted house story. It uses its supernatural premise not for cheap scares, but as a metaphor for the ghosts that live in our relationships—the unspoken words, the hidden insecurities, the fears of inadequacy. The chemistry between Keldran and Ace, amplified by superb voice acting and intimate sprite work, feels real and earned. The gothic atmosphere is so thoroughly baked into every artistic and auditory choice that it becomes a character in itself.

Its place in video game history is not one of commercial triumph or critical acclaim, but of documentary significance. It is a primary source artifact from the early 2020s indie visual novel scene: a jam submission, a piece of serialized storytelling, a catalyst for fierce community debate about genre and representation. It represents the democratization of niche storytelling—a small team using accessible tools to tell a specific, queer, gothic story that would have struggled to find a home in traditional publishing.

For players seeking a beautifully crafted, emotionally intense BL vignette with a supernatural twist, Masquerade is an essential, highly recommended experience. For historians, it is a fascinating case study in how a game’s legacy can be shaped as much by its audience’s reactions as by its own content. It is a flawed, courageous, and haunting little game that, like the spirit in its story, wears the face of a broader, more complicated conversation about who gets to tell what stories, and for whom. In the end, it delivers precisely what it promises: a short, sweet, and deeply unsettling journey into the heart of a relationship—and the shadows that dwell within it.