Kommissar

Kommissar is a political prosecution simulator set in a totalitarian regime, where players take on the role of maintaining order in the Independent City-State of Roulettenburg. The game tasks players with identifying and seizing dissidents to uphold the regime’s iron-fisted rule, blending strategy and simulation elements in a dystopian setting.

Kommissar: Review

Introduction

In the crowded landscape of indie games tackling political themes, Kommissar emerges as a bold and deeply unsettling experiment. Released into Early Access in April 2017 by the Spanish studio Beardserk, this “political prosecution simulator” thrusts players into the role of a high-ranking official within a totalitarian regime’s Ministry of Truth. Its subtitle, Nothing to Hide, Nothing to Fear, immediately establishes the chillingly ironic tone that permeates its core premise. Set in the fictional Independent City-State of Roulettenburg, the game tasks the player with maintaining unity under the regime’s “iron fist” through surveillance, interrogation, and the ruthless suppression of dissidents. While its ambition to explore the mechanics and moral corrosion of authoritarian power through gameplay is laudable and resonant with classics like Papers, Please and the works of George Orwell, Kommissar ultimately stands as a poignant case study of unrealized potential, hampered by technical flaws, abandoned development, and a narrative that, while conceptually rich, remained frustratingly skeletal. This review will dissect Kommissar‘s ambitious foundation, its thematic intentions, its flawed execution, and its place in the lineage of politically charged gaming.

Development History & Context

Kommissar was born not from a grand commercial vision, but from the fertile ground of indie experimentation. Beardserk Studio initially conceived the game as a prototype during the #1GAM (One Game A Month) challenge, a community-driven initiative encouraging rapid development cycles. This origin is crucial, as it underscores the project’s roots as a focused design experiment rather than a polished commercial product. The team explicitly cited profound influences: Lucas Pope’s Papers, Please, for its bureaucratic dread and systemic simulation, and George Orwell’s seminal works (1984, Animal Farm, and his notes on the Spanish Civil War) for their exploration of totalitarianism, propaganda, and the manipulation of truth. The developers noted that failing to grapple with these themes, given contemporary societal parallels they observed, would be “a crime.”

The technological backbone was Unity, a practical choice for an indie team aiming for cross-platform availability (Windows, Mac, Linux) and a relatively accessible development pipeline. Released on Steam Early Access on April 6, 2017, at a price point of $8.99, the game entered a market burgeoning with narrative-driven and simulation titles. The Early Access model was framed within the game’s own lore, referencing “guideline 84” and an “acceptance process,” a meta-narrative attempt to justify the unfinished state. Beardserk outlined plans for a roughly three-month Early Access period, promising increased “resolution capacity” and story depth contingent on community feedback and support. They emphasized features like procedural generation of challenges and narrative outcomes, aiming for high replayability and moral consequence. However, the context of 2017 also saw a growing wariness of Early Access titles, particularly those from small studios without a proven track record of sustained development support. Kommissar would tragically become a textbook example of this risk, with its final update occurring over eight years ago, leaving its ambitious Early Access promises perpetually unfulfilled.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

The core narrative of Kommissar is intentionally fragmented and emerges primarily through the player’s actions within the Ministry of Truth’s framework. There is no traditional linear story; instead, the player experiences a series of procedurally generated events, interrogations, and district-level “neutralization” operations that build the atmosphere and slowly reveal the rot beneath Roulettenburg’s veneer of “peace & wealth utopia.” The player embodies the Kommissar, a “perfect designed gear for the machine,” a true believer (or at least a dedicated functionary) tasked with enforcing the regime’s version of reality – the “truth.” This perspective is critical: unlike Papers, Please, where the player is an overwhelmed clerk, the Kommissar holds power. The narrative tension arises not from survival within the system, but from the player’s potential complicity and the system’s inherent instability.

The game heavily leans on themes of Orwellian dystopia: perpetual surveillance (“watch out for your fellow citizens”), the manipulation of truth (“EMBODY the regime… you are the truth and the truth is power”), the suppression of dissent (“neutralize the insurgents,” “capture dissidents”), and the dehumanizing language of bureaucracy (“Ministry of Truth”). Roulettenburg itself, seemingly a gleaming metropolis, is presented as a place built on foundations of fear and enforced conformity. The promised “profound and harsh story arcs” and “moral dilemmas” aimed to force players to confront the consequences of their actions – magnanimity versus brutality, obedience versus personal ambition (“MANIPULATE the events to pursue your own interests”). The core question posed is whether the system can be maintained, or if cracks will inevitably appear, challenging the Kommissar’s belief. However, the lack of significant narrative depth in the released version means these dilemmas remained abstract, and the fate of Roulettenburg and its populace remained frustratingly undefined. The game’s strongest narrative moments were likely intended to arise from the player’s own ethical compromises, a powerful concept left largely unrealized due to the game’s incomplete state.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

Kommissar presented a point-and-click interface designed to simulate the management of a bureaucratic terror apparatus. Core gameplay loops involved:
1. Investigation & Surveillance: Monitoring reports and citizen activities across different districts to identify potential dissidents or threats. This likely involved analyzing data, cross-referencing information, and deploying agents.
2. Interrogation: Captured suspects would be brought in for questioning. The player would choose interrogation tactics – promising leniency (“magnanimous”) or employing harsher methods (“pushing them to the limit”). Choices were intended to bear consequences, potentially affecting the suspect’s cooperation, the loyalty of other characters, or even the stability of districts.
3. Neutralization & Deployment: Mobilizing agents to “neutralize” insurgents or capture dissidents in the districts. This likely involved resource allocation and risk assessment.
4. District Management: Maintaining control over different areas of Roulettenburg, each with its own unique social context and motivations promised to change with each playthrough (“DISCOVER a new challenge in each game”).

The game emphasized player agency within the rigid constraints of the regime. Players could theoretically “EMBODY” the rigid party member strictly following orders, or attempt to “MANIPULATE” events for personal gain, highlighting the potential for internal corruption. Character progression, if fully realized, might have involved gaining influence, unlocking more powerful tools or agents, or navigating the treacherous political landscape within the Ministry itself. Unfortunately, the actual gameplay implementation in the Early Access build was widely criticized as “barely playable” and “half implemented.” Basic mechanics like interrogation lacked depth, procedural generation felt shallow, and the UI reportedly suffered from bugs and unclear feedback (as evidenced by a user-reported typo in the intro text: “buildind” instead of “buildings”). The core loop felt repetitive and unengaging, failing to deliver on the promised complexity of moral choices and systemic consequences. The ambitious systems remained skeletal shells, their potential locked behind the studio’s subsequent silence.

World-Building, Art & Sound

The world of Roulettenburg was conceived as a meticulously crafted totalitarian state, blending the aesthetic of a prosperous, ordered society with the underlying rot of oppression. The developers aimed for a “surreal” and “atmospheric” experience. While detailed visual descriptions are scarce in the sources, the implied aesthetic likely drew from cold-war era Eastern Bloc architecture mixed with sterile, modernist government buildings – imposing, functional, and devoid of warmth. The name “Roulettenburg” itself evokes a sense of precariousness and arbitrary fate, fitting the theme.

The art direction, though not extensively detailed, was likely functional and utilitarian, designed to reinforce the bureaucratic dread. Point-and-click interfaces often rely on clear symbolography and readable environments to convey information efficiently; Kommissar would have needed this to manage its complex (on paper) systems. The layout of the Ministry office and the different districts would have been crucial for immersion.

Sound design is the silent architect of atmosphere in such games, and while specific details are absent, its importance is paramount. Imagine the relentless ticking of clocks, the muffled sounds of distant protests or surveillance equipment, the sterile tones of official announcements, and the unnerving silence during interrogations. The developers, conscious of Orwell’s influence, would have understood that sound is key to building the pervasive sense of paranoia and control that defines Roulettenburg. The absence of any notable soundtrack details in the sources suggests the implementation, like the gameplay, may not have fully realized this auditory potential in the released version. Ultimately, the world-building relied heavily on the player’s imagination fueled by the game’s oppressive premise and the chilling effectiveness of its core concept, even if the tangible presentation remained underdeveloped.

Reception & Legacy

The reception of Kommissar upon its Early Access release was, to put it mildly, disastrous. Its Steam page currently displays a damning “Negative” rating, with only 18% of 32 user reviews (as per the provided data) being positive. This translates to a Steambase Player Score of a mere 17/100. Critically, Metacritic lists no critic reviews (tbd), and the game flew under the radar of major publications like Kotaku, which only listed it without providing substantive coverage.

Player reviews and community discussions paint a consistent picture of frustration:
* Abandoned Development: The most pervasive criticism was the studio’s disappearance. Users noted “Development is dead. Devs quit responding, even in chat as in friend list” and “Several months with no posts or updates from developer.” The final update came over eight years ago, cementing the game’s status as an unfinished relic.
* Broken/Incomplete Gameplay: Reviews cited the game as “barely playable even as an alpha,” with “basic gameplay requirements aren’t missing, but actually half implemented.” Phrases like “Potential but half done attempt at basic gameplay is bad” and “this is a huge thing for about 10 bucks USD” captured the sense of wasted potential and consumer disappointment.
* Technical Flaws: Beyond the fundamental incompleteness, users reported bugs, including the aforementioned typo in the intro text (“buildind”), and a general lack of polish.
* Conceptual Appeal vs. Execution: While some discussions acknowledged the dark appeal (“What’s the appeal of a cold war prosecution game?”), the overwhelming sentiment was that the gameplay failed to deliver on the premise. Users like “max3” recognized the inspiration from Papers, Please but noted the implementation fell far short.

Legacy:
Despite its commercial and critical failure, Kommissar retains a peculiar niche legacy:
1. Failed Ambition: It serves as a cautionary tale within the Early Access ecosystem, exemplifying the risks of purchasing titles from unproven studios without a demonstrated commitment to long-term development. Its fate is frequently cited in discussions about abandoned projects.
2. Thematic Precedent: As one of the earliest dedicated “political prosecution simulators,” it carved out a distinct albeit poorly executed space. Its direct inspiration from Orwell and Papers, Please highlights a lineage of games exploring systemic oppression and bureaucratic horror. Later titles like Politica (2024) might be seen as distant, more successful successors to the Kommissar concept.
3. Source of Curiosity: Its stark premise and the intrigue surrounding its unfinished state ensure it remains a subject of discussion among historians of obscure or controversial indie games, a footnote in the genre’s exploration of authoritarianism.
4. Unrealized Potential: The core concept – embodying an enforcer in a collapsing totalitarian regime with meaningful choices and consequences – remains compelling. Kommissar stands as a testament to how a powerful idea can be undermined by lack of resources, development time, or follow-through.

Conclusion

Kommissar is a deeply frustrating artifact. It arrives with the potent DNA of Orwellian dread and the innovative spirit of indie experimentation, only to be strangled by the harsh realities of development and premature abandonment. Beardserk Studio crafted a concept bristling with thematic potential: a simulator of totalitarian power that forced the player to confront the moral compromises inherent in enforcing an unjust system. The ambition to blend procedural generation with profound, player-driven moral dilemmas was laudable and resonant with the era’s burgeoning interest in narrative-rich simulations.

However, the game released in 2017 was a shell of its ambitions. The promised depth in interrogation, district management, and narrative consequence evaporated under a veneer of buggy, half-implemented mechanics. The chilling narrative framework lacked the substance to support it, leaving the player grappling with abstract systems rather than meaningful choices. The Early Access model, framed within the game’s own lore, became a cruel joke as Beardserk Studio vanished over eight years ago, leaving Kommissar perpetually stalled.

Its reception was predictably negative, earning a dismal user score and cementing its reputation as an unfinished, abandoned project. Yet, Kommissar refuses to be entirely dismissed. Its legacy is one of tragic unrealization. It stands as a stark reminder of the risks of Early Access and a fascinating, if deeply flawed, early attempt at a specific subgenre: the political prosecution simulator. While it fails as a satisfying game experience, it endures as a provocative concept – a chilling “what if” that asks players to embody the enforcer, only to reveal the hollowness of the regime they serve. In the annals of video game history, Kommissar is less a masterpiece and more a poignant monument to ambition undone, a ghost in the machine of dystopian gaming that whispers of truths left untold and systems left untested. Veritas Potestas Est… but in Kommissar, the truth remained buried beneath a mountain of unrealized potential.