Constance (2025)

Constance is a game that’s tragically at odds with itself. Its story feels like a warm blanket, but its boss battles are a trial by fire. Its world is vibrant, but its map is cumbersome. Perhaps that’s the point — that finding solace takes pain, perseverance, and self-determination. I can respect the vision, but I’m just not sure the final product did that vision justice. I admire the effort put into Constance and commend bildundtonfabrik for treating the mental health crisis with the care and compassion it deserves. If ever the team created a sequel, this canvas could really take flight. As is, Constance is a good oeuvre that could’ve been great.

Un videojuego entrañable, con alma, sin aspiraciones de convertirse en ningún bombazo, sino de contarnos una historia, hacernos reflexionar, y disfrutar muchísimo con su estilo artístico, sus melodías, sus mecánicas y sus controles por el camino

With dozens of Metroidvanias and challenging platformers available each year, Constance could get lost in the shuffle. But I'd argue, it needs to be near the top of that pile. With creativity at its core and mechanics that offer a rewarding challenge, Constance is now one of my favourite Metroidvania games.

A heartfelt, visually striking Metroidvania with meaningful storytelling and sharp platforming. While its boss encounters and accessibility suite fall short of its strongest ideas, Constance delivers an emotionally rich journey that’s well worth experiencing.

But did I enjoy my time with Constance? I did, despite my rageful moments. Constance presents a deeper than surface-level approach to the Metroidvania genre and poses the question “What would our inner world look like in cases of significant anxiety and depression in our external world?” In recent years, I have been someone who struggles more with anxiety. It’s not easy at times, but Constance allowed myself, and hopefully others, to understand this one thing: it’s OK to ask for help.