Lovers in a Dangerous Spacetime is a game about relationships. In the first instance, it's that old video game story about the relationship between objects and space: you must pilot your cumbersome blancmange of a ship through a tight warren of tunnels and asteroids, taking care not to deplete its shields in collisions. This much is familiar. Where the Canadian-made game develops the theme is in asking you to manage not only your ship's movement through space, but also (and simultaneously) your character's movement through the ship's interior.
A side-slice view of your craft allows you to peer into its decks and halls like a child nosing over a doll's house. The ship is burdened by a higgledy design. The steering wheel is, for example, housed in a different room to the shield controls, which are in a different place to the map room. Before you can utilise any of these various functions, you must first relocate your character to the appropriate room, climbing ladders and leaping platforms as quickly as possible on the inside, in order to manage the situation on the outside. Where most game designers try to streamline their designs, smooth off the friction and map the game's controls to a different button, developer Asteroid Base Inc. chooses to obfuscate.
It's also a game about human relationships. Play with a friend and you'll both assume the role of an astronaut, complete with upturned fish bowl over the head. Together, you must wrangle the ship's functions, screaming at one another to, for example, man the shields, or rush to the upstairs turret. Your chances of success hinge on the quality of your communication. Race to man the same turret and you will be utterly vulnerable for the ten seconds it takes you sort out who is actually going to sit in the seat, time during which your ship is both stationary and undefended. It's in these moments of frantic haplessness that Lovers in a Spacetime sparkles.
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