Lemuria: Lost in Space

Lemuria: Lost in Space is a first-person sci-fi adventure game set aboard the Lemuria 7, a spaceship that vanished 70 years ago and has mysteriously returned to the Solar System severely damaged and devoid of its crew. Players assume the role of Abrix, a specialized robot equipped with weapon and hacking modules, tasked with exploring over 100 rooms of the derelict vessel. The gameplay is a unique blend of point-and-click adventure, RPG, and survival, requiring players to solve puzzles, manage scarce resources like batteries and anti-radiation cloaks, engage in hacking mini-games, and combat security turrets to uncover the fate of the lost crew.

Lemuria: Lost in Space: A Forgotten Voyage into Ambitious Mediocrity

In the vast, uncharted expanse of the Steam library, countless games drift silently, their stories untold and their designs unexamined. Among these celestial bodies is Lemuria: Lost in Space, a 2017 indie title from Polish developer EJRGames that promised a unique fusion of genres and a haunting sci-fi mystery. It is a game that embodies both the ambitious spirit of indie development and the perilous pitfalls that can scuttle even the most intriguing premise. This is not merely a review; it is an archaeological dig into a artifact that sought to blend point-and-click adventure, survival mechanics, and RPG elements into a cohesive whole, with results as fractured as the derelict ship it tasks you to explore.

Development History & Context

Studio and Vision
EJRGames, a small independent studio, positioned Lemuria: Lost in Space as a bold experiment in genre hybridization. In the mid-2010s, the indie scene was flourishing with titles that defied easy categorization, and EJRGames aimed to contribute with their self-described “Point ‘n Role Adventure.” Their vision was clear: to marry the deliberate, puzzle-solving pace of classic point-and-click adventures like Myst with the persistent tension of survival games and the character progression of light RPGs. Developed on the Unity engine, the game was a product of its time, leveraging accessible tools to realize a complex vision on a limited budget.

The Gaming Landscape of 2017
By 2017, the sci-fi genre was dominated by narrative powerhouses like SOMA and Prey, games that used their settings to explore profound philosophical questions. The survival game craze was also in full swing, with titles like Subnautica refining the formula. Lemuria entered a crowded field, attempting to carve a niche by appealing to fans of slower, more thoughtful experiences. However, its release was a whisper in a hurricane, garnering little media attention and becoming just one of dozens of titles vying for player attention on digital storefronts each week.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

Plot and Structure
You play as Abrix, an AI-driven robot specifically designed to withstand extreme environments, who is dispatched to investigate the sudden reappearance of the Lemuria 7, a spaceship missing for over 70 years. The ship is damaged, deserted, and adrift in the solar system, a classic setup for a sci-fi mystery. The narrative unfolds through audio logs, text files on terminals, and environmental storytelling as you explore the ship’s 100-plus rooms.

The plot treads familiar ground: a doomed mission, corporate oversight, and the psychological toll of isolation. The story attempts to grapple with themes of humanity, sacrifice, and the ethics of artificial intelligence, but it is hamstrung by its execution. The dialogue, as noted in contemporaneous reviews, is often “cringe-worthy,” and the voice acting ranges from “acceptable and slightly awkward” to genuinely poor. The overarching mystery lacks the depth or originality to truly engage, feeling more like a compilation of sci-fi tropes than a compelling original tale.

Characters
Abrix is a blank slate, a vessel for the player with little personality. The human crew members are revealed solely through their logs, and none manage to escape archetype status—the diligent captain, the worried scientist, the rebellious engineer. They exist as plot devices rather than fully realized characters, and their fates fail to elicit a strong emotional response.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

Core Loop and Movement
The fundamental gameplay loop involves exploring static, pre-rendered environments in a first-person perspective, solving inventory-based puzzles, managing resources, and engaging in occasional combat. The most immediately jarring design choice is the movement system. Instead of free movement using WASD, the game employs a node-based system reminiscent of 1990s adventures like Myst. You click on arrows or hotspots to lurch from one predetermined camera position to another. This feels archaic and disorienting, especially when moving “backwards” retraces your path in reverse rather than allowing you to turn around. This decision severely limits player agency and makes navigation a chore rather than an exploration.

Puzzle Design
Puzzles form the heart of the experience, but they are its greatest weakness. The majority involve fetching colored keycards to open corresponding doors or solving simplistic environmental puzzles like aligning mirrors or connecting pipes. The much-touted “hacking” minigames are a particular low point. They require answering trivia questions (e.g., “Which author wrote Discworld?”) or solving math problems, with failure costing precious resources. Another hacking mode involves a simplistic strategy game against an AI, which reviews described as frustrating and reliant on luck. These mechanics feel less like intelligent challenges and more like arbitrary barriers, testing patience rather than wit.

Survival and RPG Elements
Abrix must manage three resources: power, coolant, and radiation levels. Depleting any one results in instant game over. Batteries and coolant canisters are found in locked containers, adding a layer of resource scavenging. This survival layer creates a constant, low-grade anxiety but often feels punitive rather than immersive. Running out of power because you took too long to solve an obtuse puzzle is frustrating, not challenging.

The RPG system allows you to spend upgrade points on marginally improving stats, such as a 1% increase in coolant efficiency. These upgrades are so negligible they are practically meaningless, rendering the entire system a hollow feature included only to justify the “RPG elements” descriptor.

Combat
Combat is rudimentary. You select a weapon from your inventory and click on patrolling robots or turrets until they—or you—are destroyed. There is no strategy, no dodging, and no depth. It is a perfunctory addition that adds nothing to the experience.

World-Building, Art & Sound

Visuals and Atmosphere
Built in Unity, Lemuria‘s visuals are functional but unremarkable. The environments are drab and repetitive, with low-detail textures and simplistic geometry that fail to sell the scale or mystery of a massive, derelict starship. The art direction lacks a distinct identity, falling into a generic “sci-fi corridor” aesthetic that was already dated in 2017. The game’s atmosphere, which should be its strongest asset—a blend of loneliness and dread—is undermined by the clumsy presentation.

Sound Design
The soundscape is a mixed bag. The original soundtrack by Ree-D is a highlight, effectively setting a somber, mysterious tone. However, this is counteracted by the poor quality of the voice acting and sound effects. Weapons lack impact, and the robotic sound of Abrix’s systems often feels artificial and unconvincing.

Reception & Legacy

Critical and Commercial Reception
Lemuria: Lost in Space was met with a resounding silence upon release. It garnered no critic reviews on aggregator sites like Metacritic and only a handful of player reviews on Steam, resulting in a “Mixed” rating. The few dedicated reviews that emerged, such as one from WolfsGamingBlog, were harsh but fair, criticizing its archaic movement, weak puzzles, and bolted-on mechanics. Commercially, it vanished without a trace, a fate shared by countless indie games that fail to stick the landing.

Evolution of Reputation and Influence
The game has no legacy to speak of. It did not influence subsequent titles, nor has it developed a cult following. It exists today as a curiosity, a case study in how ambitious design goals can be undermined by flawed execution across nearly every aspect of production. Its most lasting impact is perhaps as a cautionary tale for developers about the importance of cohesive design and quality control.

Conclusion

Lemuria: Lost in Space is a game lost in more ways than one. It is lost in the vast sea of Steam releases, lost in its own incoherent design, and lost in the gap between its ambition and its execution. It is not a terrible game; it is a profoundly mediocre one, a collection of half-baked ideas that never cohere into a satisfying whole. Its attempts to blend genres feel like a checklist of features rather than an integrated design, and its narrative lacks the depth to carry the experience.

For the hardcore adventurer and game historian, it may hold some value as a artifact of indie ambition. For everyone else, it is a voyage not worth taking. In the end, Lemuria: Lost in Space serves as a solemn reminder that in game development, a compelling premise is only the first small step—a lesson written in the silent, empty corridors of a forgotten ship.