I Think Chorus Broke Me

It’s difficult to find any part of Chorus that stands out, in either a good or bad way. The space shooter appears to be a more mature, grittier relative of Star Fox, where instead of playful animals flying through space and delivering fun quips, there are boring humans spouting dry sci-fi mumbo jumbo. You know the type: “Watch your six!”; “Your converters have kicked into overdrive!;” “Gleek glack gloop!”
I’m not saying that’s all inherently bad. I’m a Doctor Who fan! I’ve come to tolerate a certain level of campy sci-fi nonsense. But especially for a game that’s a wholly original property, there’s got to bring the audience on-board first to a certain level before giving them a bunch of homework to understand half of what people are saying.
That said, from what I could gather the game stars Nara (Cassie Bradley), who has left a religious space empire in search of a more quiet life. However, the cult catches up with her and she must face her dark past by reuniting with a sentient, talking spaceship called the Forsaken (Adam James), which is played completely straight even though the semi-romantic relationship between a pilot and her ship is just so funny. It gave me the ironic joy to get through the rest of it. They should have added a blush to the ship whenever he speaks to Nara and it would be a 10/10.
Alas, Chorus lacks that sense of self-awareness, and although not every game needs humor, even really grim titles I’ve enjoyed like The Last of Us know not to take themselves seriously all of the time. I worry that perhaps consuming every Marvel Cinematic Universe title (sans Eternals) has conditioned me to need a joke at least once per 10 minutes, lest my ADHD-I brain lose focus and switch to something else.
But the sad fact is that playing through Chorus is a miserable experience. I hate flying the stupid ship and trying to drift but never getting it right, always feeling like I was on the cusp of grasping the game’s mechanics but never quite clicking with them. I hate listening to the agonizing dialogue, both because of its tired writing and the dispassionate voice performances.
Chorus feels like the videogame version of one of my work buddies who would always come in late, do the bare minimum, and get out. If they ever were caught slacking, they’d make up for it to the point where their boss wouldn’t fire them, but never an iota more or less. It’s perfectly adequate, and that’s what makes it so frustrating.