Feature

House Of The Dying Sun rescued space from the nerds, but we let it go again

This machine kills traitors
By Sin Vega
Cockpit view of a ship flying through asteroids at a huge target ship, in front of a gigantic, part-eclipsed sun. Foreground "Traitor flagship detected. Arrival imminent"
They're late for the show. But they can watch the ending.

This is not a war. There is no glory or prize to be won, no victory to be had. There are no gods to satisfy or rewards to covet. There is nothing to gain. You are not here to save the galaxy or prevent the apocalypse. There is a truth, but it is not holy. It is beyond holy. It is this:

Twelve traitor lords remain.

House Of The Dying Sun begins with an imperative tolling bell, and can only end in ruin. That is your explicit purpose. It tells you upfront, not with a cutscene or Sim Cameraman prologue, but in black and white, with intoxicating immediacy.

Levels open with thrumming drums and full engines warping you in to the target, under a beautiful classic font declaring dramatic titles like "Vengeance at Ember Field" and "Slaughter at Horuus Gate", in keeping with its almost 1970s filmic energy. Suns blot out enemies. An ally flies through the fire of missiles you shot down. One HUD marker doesn't rotate with you, and that feels better. Every level is a careful diorama, a stage.

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Sin Vega

Sin Vega

Sin Vega is a temporarily immortal being who writes about games and TV, weeps for the sorrow that resonates in all things, and assassinates people who don't flatpack their cardboard. For maddening reasons, she lives in London.