A Crown of Sorcery and Steel

A Crown of Sorcery and Steel is a 450,000-word interactive fantasy novel set in the war-torn kingdom of Kanda, where players take on the role of an adventurer caught in a conflict between the resistance and Queen Nidana’s clockwork army. With choices that shape the fate of the kingdom, players can explore diverse backgrounds, wield magic or steel, and forge alliances or betrayals in this text-based adventure.

A Crown of Sorcery and Steel: Review

Introduction

In the sprawling, pixelated landscapes of modern gaming, where budgets swell and graphical fidelity often eclipses narrative substance, A Crown of Sorcery and Steel emerges as a defiant anomaly. Released in October 2022, this 450,000-word interactive fantasy novel by Josh Labelle, published by Choice of Games LLC, is a testament to the enduring power of text-based storytelling. It thrusts players into a war-torn realm where swords clash with sorcery, and the echoes of ancient conflicts shape every choice. Yet, as a professional historian of interactive narratives, I contend that A Crown of Sorcery and Steel represents a pivotal, if imperfect, evolution of the ChoiceScript genre—a magnum opus of world-building that occasionally falters under the weight of its own ambition. This review will dissect its legacy, narrative depth, mechanical innovations, and cultural impact, arguing that while it transcends many tropes of high fantasy, its systemic and narrative inconsistencies temper its revolutionary potential.

Development History & Context

• A Crown of Sorcery and Steel* was developed by Choice of Games LLC, a studio synonymous with the revitalization of interactive fiction in the 21st century. Founded on the principle that “the only limit is the ability to describe something in words,” Choice of Games champions accessibility and narrative depth over graphical extravagance. The game’s creator, Josh Labelle, brought a unique pedigree: his Twine game Tavern Crawler (2020) tied for first place in the prestigious IFComp, laying thematic groundwork for Crown with its exploration of a despotic queen and a fractured world. Labelle’s professional background in narrative design for titles like Disney Dreamlight Valley further informed his ability to weave complex systems into a cohesive story.

Technologically, A Crown of Sorcery and Steel operates on the ChoiceScript engine—a deliberately minimalist framework that prioritizes accessibility. With no graphics or sound effects, the game is fueled entirely by the player’s imagination, harkening back to the golden age of text adventures while modernizing the format with a user-friendly point-and-select interface. This approach aligns with the gaming landscape of 2022, marked by a resurgence of interest in narrative-driven indies and a post-pandemic embrace of accessible, contemplative experiences. The game’s release on Steam, iOS, and Android also reflected Choice of Games’ strategy to cross-pollinate traditional interactive fiction audiences with mainstream gamers, leveraging platforms like Steam’s “Story Rich” and “Text-Based” tags to reach new demographics.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

At its core, A Crown of Sorcery and Steel is a sprawling tapestry of war, identity, and moral ambiguity. The plot revolves around the kingdom of Kanda, a realm besieged by Queen Nidana, an elven Scribe who has weaponized forbidden magic to create a clockwork iron army that consumes land and life. Players assume the role of an adventurer—human, elf, dwarf, or orc—whose origins dictate their perspective on the conflict. Whether you are an elf witnessing the incineration of your homeland or a human from the besieged stronghold of Ridgebank, you are inexorably drawn into a resistance movement seeking to recover ancient elven artifacts from a sunken library.

Labelle’s narrative brilliance lies in its subversion of fantasy tropes. The War of the Wilds, a historical conflict between humans and elves, is not a simplistic good-versus-evil saga but a complex tragedy fueled by mutual fear and colonialism. Elves, far from being ethereal archetypes, are rendered as a culture torn between tradition (preserved by the Scribe Order) and modernity (embodied by urban-dwelling Forest Elves). Similarly, orcs are not monolithic brutes but a society rife with political intrigue, divided between loyalists to the royal family and rebels seeking power. Dwarven magic, rooted in runecraft and industrial pragmatism, contrasts sharply with human ingenuity and elven sorcery, creating a dynamic magical ecosystem.

The characters are the game’s beating heart. Vid, the dwarven bard, masks insecurity with swagger; Khattya, the elven Scribe, grapples with her faith amid the ruins of her culture; and Anattho, the human resistance leader, is a man pushed to moral extremes. Romances are exquisitely rendered, with options ranging from a halfling thief to Queen Nidana herself. The latter, despite her villainy, is portrayed with tragic nuance—a ruler seeking peace through tyranny. However, the narrative is not without flaws. As one Reddit critique notes, the option to romance Nidana feels jarringly unearned, given her direct role in massacring the player’s allies. Similarly, the aftermath of the Breakwater sequence—where the player’s choice to save an elf leads to catastrophic losses—fails to deliver promised consequences, as party member Anth remains despite the moral breach.

Themes permeate the text like ley lines: the cyclical nature of war, the ethics of power, and the search for belonging in a fractured world. The game’s exploration of cultural identity is particularly masterful, with distinct pronouns and societal norms for each race (e.g., dwarven gender fluidity) that feel organic rather than tokenistic. For instance, playing as an elf reveals the poignant paradox of rural elves abandoned by their urban brethren—a metaphor for the erasure of tradition by progress.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

• A Crown of Sorcery and Steel* employs a ChoiceScript framework that prioritizes player agency through stat-driven decision-making. Core to the experience are four primary attributes—Might, Stealth, Charm, and Ingenuity—which govern success in combat, infiltration, persuasion, and problem-solving. The game initially positions these as equally viable paths, with a “D&D-style” indicator subtly hinting at which skill a choice might test. This system, however, reveals limitations in practice. As one Reddit player lamented, “the entire game just dunks on intelligence-oriented builds,” with critical decisions overwhelmingly reliant on Stealth, Charm, or Might. Ingenuity, despite its promise, feels underutilized, leading to frustration for players who invest in it.

Character progression suffers from similar constraints. While the player can develop skills through specific choices, opportunities to “level up” are sparse, often requiring foresight or replayability. A GameFAQs user noted that a Chapter 8 sequence—unseating an orc pretender and stealing an elven tapestry—demands a delicate balance of skills, which can feel punitive without prior planning. Combat, described as “epic” in promotional materials, is abstracted into narrative outcomes rather than turn-based strategy, relying on the player’s imagination to conjure clashes between “a thousand humans, orcs, and elven spellcasters” versus “a thousand metal men.”

The branching narrative is where the game truly shines, offering over 70 Steam achievements that reflect vast replayability. Players can broker peace between humans and dwarves, restore the elven empire or sell its relics, or even betray the resistance to become Queen Nidana’s spy. Yet, racial choices feel superficial. As a critic noted, the “only differences of picking another race is to play a different flavor of the same make-money-to-transport relic mission.” This homogenization undermines the game’s rich world-building, as cultural identities rarely impact gameplay systems beyond dialogue gating.

World-Building, Art & Sound

Labelle’s world-building is nothing short of encyclopedic. Kanda is a realm steeped in millennia of history, with timelines and geopolitical tensions that feel lived-in. The magic system is particularly innovative: orcs practice bone scrying, dwarves harness runecraft, and elves wield sorcery tied to their Scribe Order. Each culture’s magic reflects its ethos—dwarven runes are industrial and authoritarian, elven magic is erudite and isolationist, and human ingenuity is adaptive and chaotic. This depth is complemented by meticulous attention to detail, from the seafaring traditions of human cities to the mosaic artistry of orc culture.

Visually, the game pioneers a departure for Choice of Games with character portraits by Jerel Dye. These stylized illustrations—depicting Vid’s smug smirk or Khattya’s sorrowful gaze—add tangible presence to the text, though their non-toggleable nature irked some players. The art direction is evocative, if minimalist, using descriptive prose to paint scenes like “sunken elven libraries choked with kelp” or “orc palaces of jagged obsidian.” Sound design, however, remains absent—relying entirely on the player’s auditory imagination—though the official trailer’s use of Alexander Nakarada’s “The Enemy” established a grim, martial tone that permeates the narrative.

The atmosphere is relentlessly grim, a stark contrast to Labelle’s earlier work, Tavern Crawler. This self-seriousness underscores the stakes of the war but occasionally risks suffocating the game’s lighter moments. Yet, it is precisely this tonal consistency that makes moments of levity—such as Vid’s sarcastic quips or Khattya’s reluctant humor—land with profound impact.

Reception & Legacy

At launch, A Crown of Sorcery and Steel received a mixed reception, encapsulated by its 63% positive rating on Steam (19 reviews). Praise was nearly universal for its scope and writing, with one IFDB reviewer calling it “a landmark in choice-based fantasy” and lauding its “fully realized history and mythology.” The game’s character depth resonated deeply, with Choice of Games forum members hailing it as “second only to the worldbuilding in quality.” However, criticism centered on mechanical and narrative inconsistencies. A Reddit critique scored it 3/5, citing “narrative fumbles” in the queen romance and Breakwater sequences, while another lamented the “removal of racial stats” as a flaw.

Commercially, the game found success through Choice of Games’ multi-platform strategy, with Steam sales and iOS app store visibility driving adoption. Its inclusion in the “Choice of Games Sword and Sorcery Bundle” further expanded its reach. Legacy-wise, the game has become a touchstone for interactive fiction, demonstrating that text-based games can rival AAA titles in narrative complexity. It influenced subsequent Choice of Games titles to embrace deeper world-building and more nuanced character arcs. Its exploration of polyamorous relationships and diverse gender norms also pushed the genre toward greater inclusivity, though its mixed reception highlights the ongoing tension between innovation and player expectations.

Conclusion

A Crown of Sorcery and Steel stands as a towering achievement in interactive fiction, a game whose ambition and world-building prowess elevate it above its peers. Josh Labelle’s creation is a sprawling, often breathtaking journey into a realm where magic and metal collide, where every choice echoes through centuries of history. It is a game that honors the traditions of high fantasy while subverting them with intelligence and empathy—from the tragic complexity of Queen Nidana to the cultural richness of the elven, dwarven, and orc societies. Yet, its legacy is also one of missed potential. Mechanical limitations, particularly the underutilization of Ingenuity and the homogenization of racial gameplay, prevent it from achieving the seamless integration of narrative and system that defines the genre’s best. Similarly, narrative inconsistencies—like the jarring queen romance—remind us that even the most intricate tapestries can have frayed threads.

Ultimately, A Crown of Sorcery and Steel is a must-play for aficionados of fantasy and interactive fiction. It is a game that demands patience, rewards curiosity, and proves that in an age of technological excess, the human imagination remains the most powerful engine of all. Its place in video game history is assured—not as a flawless masterpiece, but as a bold, flawed, and essential chapter in the ongoing evolution of storytelling in games.