Review for A Juggler’s Tale

Fairy tales and children’s literature are replete with morality tales intended to help mold good little boys and girls. One of the most famous and celebrated of these is Carlo Collodi’s novel The Adventures of Pinocchio. Collodi’s message of passive obedience makes sense within the context of his work, as Pinocchio does a lot of truly nasty stuff. But how might we perceive such a message if our hero appears to be entirely innocent? Kaleidoscube’s A Juggler’s Tale grapples with this question, examining the relationship between the teller of a story and its subject—in this case, a protagonist literally bound by her narrator’s strings. In showcasing this theme, it treats players to beautiful art and a blend of light platforming with an assortment of engaging environment-driven puzzles, rounding things off with a commanding narration and a sweeping, cinematic score. Aside from a short length (about three hours) that limits the scale of the adventure, as well as a moment or two in which the interface gets slightly in the way, there really isn’t much to criticize in this gorgeous and memorable tale of growing up and the value of independence, even when it requires embracing certain consequences.

An introductory cutscene establishes the metafictional nature of A Juggler’s Tale: the voice of a spirited storyteller named Jack, who speaks mostly in rhyming couplets, calls the patrons of a small medieval tavern to gather round for a puppet show he is about to begin. As the miniature curtain is drawn, you take control—or partial control, anyway—of a young girl named Abby, one of many marionettes in Jack’s show whose strings ascend past the top of the screen, where Jack ostensibly wields them unseen. The line between theatre and “real life” is immediately blurred as Abby walks from the puppet stage with its crude wooden props into a living, breathing world filled with other players. Abby is a performer at a local circus; normally she juggles but she is versatile—in this opening sequence, she is tasked with saving the ringmaster’s hat from Urs the bear. But though her life in the troupe may seem festive and fun during acts such as this, when the circus has closed for the night, she settles into a small cage and the ringmaster locks the door. With some timely aid from a group of sympathetic rats and a little bit of puzzle solving, she is able to escape.

As you navigate Abby through her quest for freedom, you’ll face obstacles such as a giant spider, magically malignant trees, and—most notably—Tonda, a ruthless mercenary the ringmaster has hired to track you down. Early on, the tension of such high stakes is largely softened by Jack, who continues to assert his control by helping Abby compensate for the inhibitions of her strings, even saving her from certain doom you’ve led her into on occasion. His words are comforting at first, albeit somewhat belittling, and he seems supportive of her need to exist freely. But as the plot progresses, it becomes clear that he intends this story to be a morality tale in which Abby learns to appreciate and accept the circumstances of her life rather than rebel against them. “Haven’t you learned your lesson?” Jack asks, as Abby tries to escape from a cage Tonda has locked her in. “Knowing your place is a blessing!” There comes a point at which survival depends upon deviating from Jack’s wishes, however, and the relationship between storyteller and subject takes a dark turn from that point forward.

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The fourth-wall-breaking quality of A Juggler’s Tale makes for an interesting approach to character. Abby is a silent protagonist, and while there is dialogue amongst the rest of the cast, all of it is filtered through Jack, who enacts their lines as part of his story. With the exception of a hunting song performed by Tonda’s bandits, his is the sole voice heard in the game. Abby, then, is defined entirely by her actions. Her aim to live freely on her own terms is clearly established, but in the beginning it feels like this goal is part of a script in which she is but a passive presence, still subject to the whims of a puppeteer who is—literally and figuratively—the one pulling the strings, even as you guide (most of) her steps along the way. The conflict between Abby and Jack that ultimately emerges fuels a sense of agency, with Abby wanting to grasp the power to control her own destiny. This lends a great deal of excitement and resonance to her struggle.

While not emphasized to the same extent, some of the other cast members seem to likewise have goals and personalities distinct from those of the storyteller who asserts his control over them. Soon after her escape, Abby encounters a wolf trapped outside a hunter’s lodge, and in a delightfully clever expression of the themes at work, the animal’s strings are tied to a post. “The old wolf is dying,” Jack tells you. “Leave him in peace. His travels are over. Yours are yet to be.” If you can find a way to sever its strings, you have the option of freeing the wolf—much to the chagrin of Jack. “You have to do what I say!” he says, yanking you up from the ground by your strings and letting you dangle powerlessly as he lectures you. “If you don’t listen to me, I can’t help you!” Similar to this trapped wolf, other characters end up not being quite as on board with Jack’s plans as they seem to be initially. While this is not explored in depth, it does come into focus during a poignant scene near the end.

The interface is simple but effective for the most part. In the PC version I played, you move Abby along a 2D plane left and right with WASD or corresponding directional keys, jumping with the up arrow (all controls can be remapped to your liking). Another key is used to interact with items—a rope you might wish to untie, a stick you can light into a torch, and so on. Several times you will use this key to throw a small object like an apple by holding it down, adjusting the trajectory of your aim—represented by an arcing line extending from Abby—and releasing. For most portable items, Abby will pick up whatever you instruct and carry it with her. For certain larger things, though, you will need to hold the key down continuously as you push, pull, or carry. Any time you encounter a task with any deviation to this pattern—such as levers that require pushing keys in a certain arrangement—tasteful on-screen prompts will cue you in. But everything feels so natural and intuitive that these never take too long to learn. Gamepad controls are fully supported as well, and they work exactly as you’d expect for a side-scroller apart from the triggers standing in for the action key.

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These simple mechanics allow for gameplay that is surprisingly and impressively rich and varied. Special attention is paid to the way Abby navigates through spaces as a marionette. Her strings keep her from moving under objects, which has a significant impact on puzzle solving. In the first half these strings also act as a safety net of sorts—if you allow Abby to fall, for example, Jack will impose himself by lifting her up and carrying her back a few steps, offering a mild rebuke along with his aid. Eventually, however, a drastic change to this dynamic occurs, appropriately when Abby disobeys Jacks’ wishes. This is best left to be experienced rather than described, but I will say that it is fascinating, exhilarating, and very creative.

In many respects A Juggler’s Tale is a platformer that sees you jumping over crevices and bodies of water, swinging on ropes and the like in linear fashion toward the end of chapters that feel somewhat like levels. But unlike in most platformers, where dexterity plays an important role, gameplay here is primarily driven by solving puzzles. Usually it is pretty easy to avoid the various failures that can lead to a game-over, and when you do, say, let Abby drown or allow yourself to be captured by one of Tonda’s bandits, you will simply resume play at a checkpoint slightly earlier. This makes it easy to enjoy the different objectives to be completed—tasks that are usually pretty low-key in terms of the nimbleness required from your fingers, even during moments when the narrative is at its most intense.

For example, in one pastoral scene you encounter a windmill, its blades blocking your path forward. In order to pass beyond, you must figure out a way to satisfy a cow harnessed to it. Later, on a fiercely stormy night, you travel through a magical forest—the trees, refusing to let you pass, block your strings with their branches. They are afraid of fire, though, and thus your only hope is to keep a frail torch continuously lit as you carry it through the rain, including bypassing obstacles that require both hands. Though each and every task works toward the overarching goal of gaining and maintaining freedom for Abby, you will rarely find yourself doing the same thing twice, and gameplay is consistently delightful from start to finish.

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Particularly praiseworthy are the ways A Juggler’s Tale manages to borrow in spirit from other genres while maintaining its puzzle-platformer core. You’ll have encounters that feel a lot like boss fights, but defeating these enemies is a matter of deducing a solution and not the adrenaline-fueled button-mashing affairs of action games. There are also some light stealth sequences peppered in along the way—such as a part when you sneak past Tonda’s bandits, careful to keep yourself shielded from the light of their lanterns—but nothing so intense as to put off most adventurers.

The smart, expressive ideas on display here are brought to life by astounding artwork. While gameplay is limited to a two-dimensional plane, the visuals make use of the depth 3D offers to provide gorgeous backgrounds rich in texture. Special care is given to lighting and color, which varies according to the tone of a particular scene or moment. Abby’s initial escape, for instance, is celebrated with a vividly depicted sunset that bathes a vast field with warm reds and golds, the landscape behind expanding gloriously, adorned with trees and windmills giving way to distant mountains. In contrast, the aforementioned forest sequence is sparsely lit, the foreground washed in shadows, Abby’s torch the only thing keeping her from total darkness. These are just two of a varied set of environments that also includes a tumultuous lake crossing amidst a swirling storm, and the war-torn ruins of a vaguely European town. The animation too is fluid and lovely, though the characters move their limbs in the stilted motion of real marionettes, which helps set the tone for the game’s puppet-based world.

Equally polished is A Juggler’s Tale’s ambitious, sweeping score and fully fleshed-out sound design. The music starts off simply—upon first beginning the game you will hear a comforting, wistful folk tune with a repeating acoustic guitar riff, a tambourine, flute, and Jack’s humming. But as the story moves forward, the soundtrack becomes more cinematic, with orchestral instruments and opulent arrangements. The score is always appropriate to the mood, even over the pause menu. When paused early on, the in-game music will fade out to be replaced by the theme of the main menu. Later, though, during particularly emotional parts, the pause menu will play music of a similar tone to that in the game—if you are at an intense or scary part, for example, it will be suitably sinister, maintaining the atmosphere. Various sound effects and ambient noises help round out a complete audio experience, punctuated by Jack’s virtuosic vocal performance.

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Shaun Lawton, who portrays Jack in the English version, is truly phenomenal in his role of storyteller, with a wide, expressive range and an inspired delivery. The spirit of his performance changes drastically over the course of the game. It is filled with a reverence for the art of storytelling near the beginning, manages a tightrope between sweetness and condescension near the middle, and ultimately veers into an unanticipated assortment of feelings—at turns bewildered, defeated, scornful, and brimming with anger. Through all of this, Lawton’s commanding, convincing performance is aided by a script almost entirely comprised of rhyming couplets. Occasionally these are awkward—such as a forced rhyme of “Tonda/anaconda” that seems out of place in both setting and meter. But for the most part they are clever and charming—not to mention recited with gusto.

It’s difficult to find much to criticize about A Juggler’s Tale. There are a couple of moments in which tasks that ought to be simple become overcomplicated by the control system—a notable part where you need to position a long scythe atop two planks comes to mind. But these are few and far between and hardly detract from the experience. Probably the worst that could be said of this game is that its short length and small scale keep it from being as deep as it could have been. In this regard, some narrative questions go unanswered, the most significant being: what’s the deal with Jack and these puppets? Are they enchanted or magical? When the fake trees give way to a real world, is that more than a figurative flourish? The developers go as far as to give Jack a name and a personality that evolves dramatically but don’t establish much about who he is. Not that it matters in the end; these questions just represent what might have been addressed in a fuller, longer game.

While you’ll surely be left wanting more, it’s for all the right reasons, as the quality of what’s offered here is exemplary. A collection of captivating puzzles and light platforming drives a clever, self-reflexive story that is brought to life by dazzlingly detailed art, an expressive score, and a commanding narration. Charming and creative from front to back, A Juggler’s Tale is a game that channels the comforting, magical energy of fairy tales while offering an imaginative deconstruction of a specific kind of morality tale. Kaleidoscube’s atmospheric and enchanting debut may be short, but it’s a beauty to behold while it lasts and leaves plenty to think about when it’s over.