From the art to the music to the story to the tactical gameplay, and even to how they’re all woven together so artfully, Pyre is an adventure that excels in every area of its design other than limiting its multiplayer to local only.

Pyre teaches you to fight tirelessly for your freedom, but to question the definition of that freedom as well. I like the sports-combat a little more each time I play. And Pyre fetishizes the tools of the writer's trade, but more importantly focuses on the art and dialogue of good storytelling.

Gamers will talk about Pyre for a good while. Vivid visuals pair well with energizing audio, and both complement the subtle, mechanical gameplay; Pyre, a stunning package, provides with aplomb a depth of strategy not found in some AAA titles, and couches the experience in an engrossing narrative. Supergiant Games’ strongest showing to date, Pyre is a must play, a delight that can’t be recommended highly enough.

Pyre is not a game for everyone, and maybe in a way it does not want to be, and yet we feel good to recommend it.

A beautiful, melancholy, emotional sports RPG visual novel thing. [Issue#265, p.51]

I find the illustrations of Pyre to be beautiful and do not need photo-realistic graphics to put me in a setting.

It just never hooked me. I’m not sure why Pyre feels padded while so many other games can use a similar structure and get away with it. Maybe—to add to the litany of reasons I mentioned earlier—maybe it’s the curse of being avant garde. Maybe we’re conditioned to accept the monotony of shooting hordes of faceless enemies, of swinging our sword at the same ten creatures for days on end. Maybe familiarity breeds contempt, but over-familiarity breeds acceptance.