Close to the Sun

Close to the Sun is a first-person horror adventure game set on the opulent ocean liner Helios, a marvel of technology created by an alternate-history Nikola Tesla in the late 19th century. Players take on the role of journalist Rose Archer, who arrives on the ship to reunite with her sister only to discover it quarantined amid a mysterious plague and gruesome murders, unraveling a detective mystery filled with puzzles, atmospheric exploration, and terrifying revelations in a steampunk-inspired world.

Close to the Sun: Review

Introduction

In the stormy seas of 1897, where the sparks of invention clash like thunder, a colossal ocean liner named Helios drifts into nightmare—a floating utopia turned quarantined tomb, haunted by the hubris of scientific ambition. Close to the Sun, developed by the Italian indie studio Storm in a Teacup and published by Wired Productions, plunges players into this alternate-history horror adventure, where Nikola Tesla’s visionary genius collides with the unraveling fabric of time itself. As journalist Rose Archer, you board the ship in search of your estranged sister Ada, only to uncover a vessel riddled with mutilated corpses, temporal anomalies, and betrayals that echo the Icarus myth. This game’s legacy lies in its bold reimagining of Tesla’s world, blending steampunk grandeur with existential dread, much like BioShock’s Rapture but with a tighter focus on narrative intimacy and atmospheric tension. Yet, for all its evocative promise, Close to the Sun stumbles in execution, delivering a haunting tale marred by repetitive mechanics and an abrupt finale. My thesis: This is a visually stunning, thematically rich horror experience that captures the perils of unchecked innovation, earning its place as a cult indie gem despite gameplay frustrations that keep it from true greatness.

Development History & Context

Storm in a Teacup, founded in 2014 by CEO Carlo Ivo Alimo Bianchi, marked its debut with the experimental VR title N.E.R.O: Nothing Ever Remains Obscure in 2015, a poetic exploration of grief and perception that showcased the studio’s affinity for introspective, atmospheric narratives. By 2019, the Rome-based team—comprising just over 100 developers, including art director Federico Belingheri and screenwriter Jem Alexander—tackled Close to the Sun as their ambitious pivot to traditional platforms, leveraging Unreal Engine 4 for its robust lighting and physics capabilities. The vision, helmed by Bianchi as director and producer Roberto Semprebene, was to craft a “second era of scientific enlightenment,” reimagining Tesla’s rivalry with Thomas Edison as a dieselpunk arms race. This alternate 1897 setting drew from historical tensions: Tesla’s real-life financial struggles and patent battles with Edison (who famously electrocuted an elephant to discredit AC power) were amplified into a world where Tesla’s Wardenclyffe company thrives, building the Helios as a self-sustaining haven for geniuses, powered by “exotic energy” harvested from time itself.

Technological constraints played a pivotal role. As an indie outfit, Storm in a Teacup operated on a modest budget, focusing resources on world-building and audio design by Andrea Remini, while compromising on gameplay depth. Unreal Engine 4 allowed for the Helios’s opulent art deco interiors—gold effigies, rail systems, and Tesla Towers—but early PC builds suffered from optimization issues, like texture blurring on non-high settings and framerate drops. The initial Epic Games Store exclusivity (ending in 2020 for Steam and GOG releases) was a double-edged sword, providing funding but limiting visibility amid the platform’s rocky launch. Console ports by Warp Digital arrived in October 2019 for PS4, Xbox One, and Switch, but the Nintendo version drew ire for technical sacrifices, including muddy visuals and load times that diluted the atmosphere.

The 2019 gaming landscape was ripe for such a project. The indie horror boom—fueled by Outlast (2013) and SOMA (2015)—demanded narrative-driven “walking simulators” with psychological depth, while BioShock’s 2007 influence lingered in underwater/isolated labs exploring objectivism and hubris. Close to the Sun arrived post-The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (2017), when open exploration was king, but its linear design harkened back to classic adventures like Myst. Amid rising alt-history trends (e.g., Assassin’s Creed), it positioned Tesla as a tragic hero, critiquing corporate espionage in an era before Big Tech monopolies. Yet, as a 4-6 hour experience priced at $20-40, it faced scrutiny in a market favoring expansive titles like Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice, underscoring indies’ challenge in balancing ambition with polish.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

At its core, Close to the Sun weaves a taut, sibling-driven mystery into a tapestry of scientific overreach, exploring themes of time, betrayal, and the human cost of progress. The plot unfolds in real-time across 10 chapters, beginning with Rose’s arrival via a stormy pilot vessel, clutching a cryptic letter from Ada that includes a communicator device. The Helios, a gilded behemoth dwarfing the Titanic, seals shut upon entry, broadcasting “QUARANTINE” in blood-red letters. As Rose navigates empty grand halls—once bustling with intellectuals like a young Albert Einstein (hinted via collectibles)—she contacts Ada, who denies authoring the letter, theorizing a future self sent it amid a catastrophic experiment.

The narrative pivots on Ada’s research into a “one-electron universe,” where the ship’s infinite power draws from time’s flow, birthing “Time Anomalies”—glowing, throat-lit abominations that act as temporal antibodies, eradicating “infections” like Exotic Energy leaks. Rose’s quest to retrieve Ada’s dual notebooks (one hidden in her art nouveau quarters, the other in a derelict theater) reveals sabotage: Ada’s colleague Loretta’s suicide note implicates a blackmailer, while blood-scrawled mantras like “Time is not a River” and “The Circle must be Broken” point to a deranged surgeon, Ludwig (implied as Jack the Ripper via Whitechapel ties). Visions of the past—golden ghosts of pre-disaster life—foreshadow betrayals, including Rose glimpsing her own role in Ada’s fate.

Characters anchor the emotional core. Rose (voiced with gritty resolve) embodies determination, her “Scout’s honor” promises masking vulnerability from a fractured sisterhood—Ada’s abandonment for science mirrors Tesla’s isolation. Ada, brilliant yet remorseful, humanizes the ethical quandary of tampering with spacetime, her dialogues laced with quantum jargon that grounds the sci-fi in real theory (e.g., one-electron universe nods to Wheeler’s hypothesis). Tesla emerges as a nuanced anti-hero: paranoid visionary, initially trapping Rose to contain the rift, later allying via communicator with cryptic survival (“Too many variables”). Aubrey, the chatty engineer trapped with “Benny’s” corpse, provides comic relief before his envious heel-turn—demoted by Ada’s rise, he floods her lab with Exotic Energy, confessing jealousy in a motive rant that humanizes villainy. Ludwig, a knife-wielding zealot blaming Rose for the “circle,” adds mundane horror, his impaled-palm attack underscoring human monstrosity over anomalies.

Dialogue shines in its era-blending wit—Rose’s modern snark (“What the hell is this shit?”) clashes with period flourishes, echoing TV Tropes’ “Artistic License – Linguistics.” Themes delve deep: Icarus allusions critique hubris (Helios as sun-chaser), while the rift symbolizes fractured timelines, questioning predestination (future-Ada’s letter). Betrayal motifs—Aubrey’s envy, Edison’s espionage—mirror Tesla’s real rivalries, positing science as a double-edged sword. The cliffhanger finale, with Rose escaping in a pod as Tesla vows to “save” Ada via her research, leaves loops untied, inviting sequels but frustrating closure. Overall, the story’s intrigue and character arcs elevate it beyond pulp, though rushed pacing in the third act dilutes thematic weight.

Sub-Themes: Time, Isolation, and Legacy

Time manipulation isn’t mere plot device; it’s metaphysical horror, with anomalies as clock roaches enforcing causality, contrasting the Helios’s boundless optimism. Isolation amplifies dread—Rose’s sole-survivor status evokes Everybody’s Gone to the Rapture—while legacy themes honor Tesla’s underdog narrative, subverting his historical obscurity into triumphant tragedy.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

Close to the Sun embraces the “walking simulator” ethos, prioritizing exploration over agency in a defenseless first-person loop: traverse linear corridors, solve environmental puzzles, evade pursuers, and collect lore. Core progression hinges on Ada’s notebooks, gating chapters via key hunts—e.g., decoding safe combinations from letters or aligning Tesla coils. Puzzles vary mildly: cipher-breaking in Ada’s apartment (revealing an Easter egg developer message), X-ray machine riddles nodding to Tesla’s inventions, or rail-car diversions. They’re accessible, rarely frustrating, but shallow—often “find the code on a whiteboard”—lacking the ingenuity of The Witness or SOMA‘s neural hacks. No character progression exists; Rose gains no upgrades, emphasizing vulnerability.

Combat is absent, aligning with survival horror roots like Outlast: anomalies and Ludwig trigger chases, demanding quick-time navigation through vents, debris, or scripted paths. These sequences innovate little, relying on trial-and-error—stray into dead ends, and you’re dragged by ankle or throat-lit horror. UI is minimalist: a communicator HUD for ally chatter, inventory auto-managed for interactables, and subtle collectible prompts. The radial menu feels clunky on consoles, and no key rebinding (a Steam complaint) hampers PC play. Checkpoints are generous post-chase, but no manual saves exacerbate repetition—quitting mid-chapter restarts it, a dated flaw in 2019’s auto-save era.

Flaws abound: slow walking speed (even running feels arduous) bogs exploration, while chases devolve into frustration, with unresponsive controls and invisible barriers. No replay incentives beyond 100% collectibles (letters, passports revealing Einstein cameos) limit longevity. Innovations? Dynamic visions integrate narrative into mechanics, and the one-electron lore ties puzzles to themes. Yet, as critics noted (e.g., Adventure Gamers’ “clunky chases”), it dips into multiple genres—horror, mystery, puzzle—without committing, resulting in a 5-hour loop that’s engaging but forgettable.

Sub-Systems: Collectibles and Interactivity

Over 50 documents breadcrumb the world, fostering detective play, but minimal interaction (mostly levers/doors) renders the Helios a diorama, not a sandbox—echoing BioShock’s envy without plasmids.

World-Building, Art & Sound

The Helios is Close to the Sun‘s masterpiece: a sprawling dieselpunk marvel blending art deco opulence with art nouveau flourishes, evoking BioShock’s Rapture but sunlit and aerial. Vast halls gleam with gold statues, internal railways snake through gardens of exotic flora, and the Tesla Tower looms as a phallic spire of ambition. World-building shines via environmental storytelling—newspapers detail Edison’s sabotage, bloody handprints signal quarantine, flies buzz over gore contrasting pre-accident visions of chess tournaments and inventor banquets. The alternate 1897 pulses with invention: X-ray toys, time-harvesting reactors, and a theater screening phantom operas, all underscoring Tesla’s utopia as fragile illusion.

Visual direction, powered by Unreal Engine 4, is breathtaking on PC—dynamic storms outside, volumetric fog in labs, anomalies’ ethereal glow. Federico Belingheri’s art team crafted detailed textures (e.g., quantum equations scrawled on walls), though Switch ports sacrifice fidelity for playability, per Nintendo Life. Atmosphere builds dread through contrast: grandeur amplifies isolation, rats and crows foreshadow decay.

Sound design elevates immersion: Andrea Remini’s score swells with orchestral menace, mixing ticking clocks (time motif) and electric hums for tension. Voice acting excels—Rose’s British grit, Ada’s intellectual poise, Aubrey’s accented mania—delivered sans modern profanity overload. Ambient effects (distant screams, creaking hulls) heighten unease, though sync issues plague some builds. Collectively, these elements forge a sensory coffin, making the Helios feel alive yet doomed, contributing profoundly to horror without over-relying on jumpscares.

Sub-Elements: Alternate History Integration

Collectibles weave real lore—Einstein’s passport, Ripper hints—into fiction, enriching the steampunk vibe while critiquing progress’s dark underbelly.

Reception & Legacy

Upon PC launch in May 2019, Close to the Sun garnered mixed reviews: Metacritic’s 65/100 reflected praise for atmosphere (IGN’s 7.2: “harrowing adventure”) against gripes over pacing and chases (PC Games: 60, “better as a walking sim”). MobyGames’ 6.6 average echoed this, with Noisy Pixel lauding scares (87%) and 4Players critiquing wasted potential (65%). Console ports fared variably—Xbox One’s 76 praised fidelity, Switch’s 55 slammed visuals (Nintendo Life: “poor imitation”). Commercially, it sold modestly (101 collectors on Moby), bolstered by Epic exclusivity and $3.99 GOG sales, but no blockbuster status.

Reputation evolved positively among indies: initial BioShock comparisons softened to “spiritual successor,” with fans appreciating Tesla’s depth (Wccftech: 7/10). Criticisms persist—short length, technical glitches (e.g., audio desync)—but post-2020 Steam updates fixed some. Influence is niche: it inspired alt-history horrors like The Falconeer (shared credits) and Italian indies (2020 IVG Awards win). In broader industry, it highlights walking sim viability, influencing narrative-focused titles like Mouthwashing (2024), while underscoring port challenges for Unreal games on Switch.

Conclusion

Close to the Sun sails a treacherous course: its mesmerizing Helios world, compelling sibling tale, and thematic bite on innovation’s folly make it a standout indie horror, evoking BioShock’s grandeur in miniature. Yet, linear exploration, infuriating chases, and brevity (under 6 hours) anchor it short of excellence, feeling like a promising prototype rushed to sea. As a historical footnote, it cements Storm in a Teacup’s voice in Italian gaming, honoring Tesla’s legacy while warning of flying too close. Verdict: A worthy 7/10 for atmosphere seekers—play for the journey, not the destination—but its influence may yet spark brighter sequels in gaming’s evolving alt-history seas.