After the Suns

In After the Suns, players embody Fhavin, a fierce warrior from an enigmatic tribe, navigating a lush yet perilous tropical jungle filled with ancient mysteries. As she battles ferocious monsters in intense hack-and-slash combat within the War Totems, Fhavin must also unravel her suppressed childhood memories by solving intricate Snake Monoliths through a unique ‘Game of Memory’ mechanic, using these revelations as keys to uncover her destiny or succumb to her haunted past—all while exploring alone without guidance in a world that tests her resolve.

After the Suns: Review

Introduction

In the vast, untamed jungle of indie game development, where solo creators and small teams hack through dense foliage of technical challenges and creative ambitions, After the Suns emerges as a raw, unpolished gem—or perhaps a thorny vine that ensnares more than it enchants. Released in 2019 by Argentine brothers Ignacio and Santiago Medina, this third-person hack-and-slash adventure draws inspiration from ancient tribal mythologies, blending frantic combat with introspective memory puzzles in a fictional tropical world. As a game historian, I’ve seen countless indie titles rise from humble forums to cult status, but After the Suns stands as a testament to the passion of self-taught developers navigating Unreal Engine 4 on a shoestring budget. Its legacy is one of earnest experimentation rather than widespread acclaim, marked by a protagonist’s quest for identity amid shadows and savagery.

My thesis: While After the Suns captivates with its atmospheric fusion of Aztec-inspired lore and psychological depth, its execution is undermined by persistent technical flaws, sparse content, and a lack of polish that leaves players lost in the underbrush rather than immersed in its mysteries. Yet, for enthusiasts of raw indie horror-action hybrids, it offers a glimpse into the unfiltered vision of creators forging their own universe from childhood fantasies.

Development History & Context

The story of After the Suns begins not in a glossy studio but in the personal drive of Ignacio Medina, a self-taught developer from Argentina who couldn’t afford formal education in game design. As documented in Unreal Engine forums dating back to October 2018, Ignacio initially pitched the project under the title The Faceless Ones, envisioning a female Aztec-inspired warrior mother rescuing her son from sacrificial gods. This evolved into a broader horror-adventure, retitled After the Suns by October 31, 2018, to avoid naming conflicts. Working solo at first, Ignacio relied on free resources and community feedback to learn Unreal Engine 4, admitting early on that the game would feature “many bugs and glitches” due to his inexperience.

By April 2019, Ignacio’s brother Santiago joined as co-developer and co-publisher, contributing to mythology, assets, and narrative ideas. Their collaboration transformed the project into a family affair, drawing from childhood imaginings that merged superhero universes into a cohesive, original lore. The game took about 1.5 years to complete, with development spanning from 2018 to mid-2019. Technological constraints were evident: Built on Unreal Engine 4, it targeted modest hardware (minimum Intel Pentium 1.80 GHz, 4 GB RAM, AMD Radeon R7 or equivalent), but early builds suffered from excessive shadows, plastic-like materials, and performance hitches—issues Ignacio actively sought fixes for via forum posts, such as adding particle emitters for better lighting.

The 2019 gaming landscape was a golden age for indie action-adventures, with titles like Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice elevating hack-and-slash precision and Control blending psychological narratives with combat. After the Suns entered this arena as a micro-budget outlier ($4.99 on Steam), released during Steam’s Early Access phase on June 17, 2019, and fully on June 24 via Steam and itch.io. The indie scene was booming with solo successes like Celeste and Hades, but After the Suns highlighted the era’s divide: accessible tools like Unreal Engine empowered dreamers, yet without publisher support, many projects—like this one—struggled with visibility and refinement. Post-release updates addressed bugs (e.g., totem-opening failures in August 2019) and added German localization in June 2019, with a “big update” announced in December 2019 promising graphical overhauls and new challenges. However, implementation details remain vague, underscoring the Medinas’ ongoing learning curve amid limited resources.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

At its core, After the Suns weaves a tale of repressed trauma and self-discovery, personified by protagonist Fhavin, a fierce warrior woman from a nameless, atemporal tribe. The plot unfolds across eight levels in a mysterious tropical jungle, where Fhavin explores alone, sans tutorials or hand-holding, confronting her fragmented past. The narrative hinges on duality: external battles in “War Totems” against monstrous foes symbolize internal strife, while “Snake Monoliths” serve as gateways to “The Game of Memory”—puzzle sequences that unlock childhood recollections. These memories aren’t mere lore dumps; they’re a double-edged sword, functioning as combat resources that players must ration wisely, lest Fhavin be “condemned to the torments of her mysterious past.”

Fhavin’s character arc is the emotional linchpin. Voiced in a fictional tribal language (with English, Spanish, and German subtitles), her dialogue—sparse but evocative—hints at a repressed upbringing marred by loss and ritualistic horror. Early forum cinematics depict her as a maternal figure battling god-like entities inspired by Huitzilopochtli, evolving into a psychological horror narrative where memories reveal a “true quest” tied to tribal gods and personal sacrifice. Themes of isolation permeate: Fhavin’s solo journey mirrors the developers’ indie solitude, with no companions or clues forcing players to “try not to get lost.” This amplifies motifs of psychological horror—violent gore in combat contrasts with introspective memory games, evoking repressed guilt and the blurred line between myth and madness.

Subtleties abound in the lore, drawn from the Medinas’ synthesized mythologies. Tribal gods manifest as bosses, like a hulking “tribal God” in early builds, representing fallen warriors and divine trials. Dialogue, though limited, carries weight: Fhavin’s internal monologues (implied through subtitles) grapple with identity, questioning if her quest redeems or dooms her. Flaws emerge in execution—cultural inspirations feel fictionalized to avoid strict Aztec accuracy (e.g., non-Nahuatl language, atemporal setting), but inconsistencies like Spanish-influenced weapons dilute immersion. Nonetheless, the narrative’s ambition shines: It’s a compact tragedy of memory as both weapon and wound, resonating with indie tales like What Remains of Edith Finch, though underdeveloped here due to scope limitations.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

After the Suns orbits a core loop of exploration, combat, and puzzle-solving, delivered in direct-control third-person perspective. Players navigate dense jungle environments, seeking “level doors” without maps or objectives—a deliberate design echoing survival horror’s tension. The hack-and-slash combat defines the frenzy: Fhavin wields melee weapons against waves of tribal monsters and bosses in War Totems, arenas blending arena-battling with light platforming. Attacks feel visceral, with sword clashes and gore effects emphasizing violence, but the system is rudimentary—combos are basic, dodging imprecise, and enemy AI predictable, leading to repetitive button-mashing marred by camera issues (too close to Fhavin, causing disorientation in shadows).

Innovation lies in the memory mechanic: Solving Snake Monoliths via “The Game of Memory” (a matching or sequencing puzzle, inferred from descriptions) yields “memory keys” that enhance combat—perhaps temporary buffs like health regen or power-ups. Resource management is key: Overuse in battles depletes them, risking vulnerability in later fights, adding strategic depth to an otherwise straightforward loop. Character progression is minimal—no skill trees—but Fhavin “drinks from the source” (a checkpoint mechanic) to restore health, tying into thematic renewal.

UI and controls falter: The interface is bare-bones, with subtitles for fictional dialogue but no minimap or HUD clutter, which amplifies isolation yet frustrates navigation. Partial controller support exists, but keyboard defaults feel clunky. Flaws abound—early bugs like unopenable totems or drink failures were patched, but persistent issues like slowdowns during boss fights and dark visuals hinder flow. The eight levels offer variety (jungle paths, arenas, puzzles), but at 2-4 hours total, it feels abbreviated. Overall, mechanics innovate in memory-combat fusion but crumble under unpolished execution, evoking early God of War ambition without its refinement.

World-Building, Art & Sound

The game’s world is a lush yet foreboding tropical expanse, evoking a fictional Mesoamerican jungle teeming with ancient totems and serpentine ruins. Atmosphere builds through isolation: Fog-shrouded paths, bioluminescent flora, and hidden doors create a sense of encroaching dread, where every rustle hints at ambush. War Totems are circular arenas of stone and vine, lit by ritual fires, while Snake Monoliths loom as enigmatic puzzles etched with tribal runes—contributing to a cohesive, atemporal mythos that feels alive with forgotten gods.

Visual direction, powered by Unreal Engine 4, aims for a stylized realism: Fhavin’s muscular form, adorned in tribal garb, moves through verdant greens and earthy browns, but early critiques nailed the issues—excessive darkness swallows details, making characters “lose themselves in shadows.” Materials appear overly glossy and plastic, especially on limbs, while enemies (fallen warriors, beasts) lack textural depth, blending into murky backdrops. Post-2019 update promises (e.g., better lighting, particle glows) suggest improvements, but base assets remain inconsistent, with forum-shared screenshots showing polished cinematics contrasting glitchy gameplay.

Sound design elevates the immersion: Fitting tribal music—drumming percussion and ethereal flutes—pulses during exploration, swelling to intense scores in combat. Enemy growls and sword impacts deliver satisfying feedback, while Fhavin’s fictional chants add otherworldly flavor (untranslated audio preserved for authenticity, per community advice). Ambient jungle sounds (bird calls, wind through leaves) heighten loneliness, though sparse voice acting and occasional sync issues detract. Collectively, these elements forge a haunting experience, where art and audio conjure psychological horror, but technical shadows dim the vividness.

Reception & Legacy

Upon launch in June 2019, After the Suns garnered minimal attention, a fate common for micro-indie releases. Steam’s player score hovers at a dismal 13/100 from eight reviews (one positive, seven negative), citing bugs, poor visibility, and shallow content as deal-breakers. No critic reviews exist on Metacritic or MobyGames, and community forums like itch.io and Unreal Engine buzzed with polite encouragement during development—praising visuals and story—but post-release silence prevailed. Commercial performance was negligible; collected by just one MobyGames user, it sold modestly at $4.99, with updates like German support failing to boost visibility.

Its reputation has stagnated as a “hidden flop,” emblematic of 2010s indie challenges: Ambitious solos shining in prototypes but faltering in polish. Influence is niche—echoed in later female-led hack-and-slash indies like Darksiders Genesis for memory mechanics, or psychological titles like The Pathless for exploration isolation. The Medinas’ journey inspires, highlighting Unreal Engine’s democratizing power, but After the Suns warns of scope creep without teams. In industry terms, it underscores the post-Undertale era’s glut of passion projects, where legacy favors survivors over the forgotten.

Conclusion

After the Suns is a bold indie swing at blending hack-and-slash adrenaline with memory-driven introspection, its fictional tribal world and Fhavin’s tormented quest offering fleeting thrills amid technical thorns. From the Medinas’ self-taught saga to its underlit jungles and rationed recollections, it captures the raw essence of creator-driven art—flawed, fervent, and fiercely original. Yet, bugs, brevity, and opacity relegate it to obscurity, a cautionary tale for aspiring developers.

In video game history, it earns a footnote as an underdog experiment: Not a masterpiece like Shadow of the Colossus, nor a cult hit like Mark of the Ninja, but a sincere artifact of indie perseverance. Recommended for patient explorers tolerant of rough edges; score: 5/10. With rumored updates unrealized, its suns may have set, but the Medinas’ light endures.