I've been reviewing Indie RPGs for quite some time here on the ol' Iggo-Tweh (that's how you pronounce "IGotW," probably) and a trait native to the format that I keep circling back around to are the ways these games use brevity - often necessitated by the relatively truncated cycles common to Indie development - to its utmost potential, trimming the fat while leaving the core of the genre's appeal untouched. RPGs where every encounter feels monumental, where every new piece of equipment offers significant tactical advantage rather than a statistical drop in the bucket, and where every curative item may find itself being used in the following battle rather than thrown in a pile that only continues to grow as the game progression nears its end point. This week's game Ikenfell, by Happy Ray Games, is one of the truest examples of this compression process in action outside of a Zeboyd joint.

In Ikenfell, the player assumes the role of Maritte: the "ordinary" (non-magical) sister of a talented witch at the prestigious, titular magic school of Ikenfell. Since Safina, Maritte's sister, did not return from school over the summer break, Maritte has travelled to Ikenfell to find her. She soon discovers that strange and potent energies are transforming the creatures and spirits of Ikenfell and its surrounding environs, and that includes herself: she quickly acquires powerful elemental magic the likes of which have never been seen before. Exploring Ikenfell, meeting and befriending her sister's schoolmates, and running into all sorts of hostility, Maritte is determined to find out what happened to her troublemaker sibling even if she has to turn the whole school upside-down with her new powers to do it.

Ikenfell is a rare example of a story about a wizarding school that is actually pro-LGBTQ rather than anti-: your characters' profile screens have their preferred pronouns, and several ongoing romantic subplots between same-gendered characters emerge early. Playing Ikenfell promptly put into mind a Disney cartoon I've been meaning to watch named The Owl House, which follows the likes of Gravity Falls in presenting a show ostensibly for kids about pre-teen issues that is filled with enough smart writing and imagination to be accessible to just about anyone. The one thing I know about that show is that its central character recently began a relationship with her (female) classmate and former rival after the show spent a significant amount of time teasing the union; there's a kernel of a similar subplot developing here with Ikenfell also, though I'm not sure if it's necessarily looking to explore a heavier dating sim aspect like the BioWare RPGs. Either way, it's emblematic of how inclusive games are becoming, especially those from the Indie set, and I suspect this direction will tie into the game's more general themes of acceptance and empathy. After all, it still pejoratively treats non-magical humans as lesser beings, and I suspect that'll become a factor in the machinations of the overarching story once I've dug a little deeper (one working theory is that all these chaotic magical forces were an attempt to gift magical talent to everyone, not just a chosen few). Worth noting too that Ikenfell feels beholden to Undertale a smidge: not just because of its earnest beating heart but also its proclivity to give every cast member their own amusing quirks and distinct presence, leading to some fun incidental goofs and character moments with even the most minor tertiary characters.

Ikenfell's gameplay, as discussed, feels very streamlined in the sense that every encounter presents a challenge and that your tactics evolve and change pretty rapidly, if not quite after every battle. Presented on a horizontally-aligned grid not unlike the Mega Man Battle Network series or Radiant Historia, the characters and enemies of Ikenfell use abilities with specific areas-of-effect, requiring players to keep maneuvering their party into positions where their skills will have the most impact. For example, Maritte learns a single-target spell off the bat but soon acquires a group spell with a cross-shaped area-of-effect: by moving to a spot where more than one enemy is enveloped by this cross, you'll find it's a much more efficient means of defeating groups of enemies quickly. This is instrumental, as the game's difficulty is rather high and expediency in battle is tied to using the skills as effectively as possible. This can also include status effects and buffs, both offering vital advantages. Another Radiant Historia appropriation is an increasing importance of littering the battlefield with mines: these are invisible to the opposing side, and with enough foresight can lead enemies into tripping their own downfalls. It also becomes a memory game of sorts, having to remember where enemies have left mines of their own.

However, the most remarkable aspect of Ikenfell's combat is its unusual emphasis on trigger bonuses. Many RPGs, including Yakuza: Like a Dragon (which I'm also currently playing), will offer players the chance to perform little QTEs when attacking and defending that will usually add a small but welcome boost to their damage output or negation, respectively. Going as far back as Final Fantasy VIII and Super Mario RPG, these trigger bonuses rarely affect the battle to a significant extent, but offer a means to keep players invested in even inconsequential random encounters by allowing them to contribute to their characters' success with these timing-based boons. In Ikenfell, conversely, the trigger bonuses are absolutely integral to victory. The numerical difference between a "Great!" bonus and an "Oops!" bonus (the latter earned if you completely whiff the timing) can be many magnitudes apart, especially early on. Without the proper timing, I might get hit with an enemy skill that takes out half a character's health bar; timed perfectly, however, and that same attack barely leaves a scratch. This timing mini-game also affects healing and the likelihood of status effects hitting, so there's no instance where it isn't of paramount importance. The game recognizes that not all players will be up to this reflexes-intensive task, so there are settings to either ensure a good if not great result with the latter instead being player-determinant, or to automatically have every attack hit perfectly. It's a system the player can either choose to engage with, render as minor as it is in other RPGs, or eliminate it entirely; even so, I feel it's one of the game's few significant deviations from the norm, and even if my sense of timing isn't always perfect I do appreciate how it adds a degree of unpredictable peril and exists as an uncommon skill-based hurdle in what is generally a more passive genre that tests players by means other than their reaction speeds.

By most metrics, Ikenfell is a very rudimentary, turn-based, 16-bit RPG homage that linearly feeds you from one area of the game to the next: I've completed Ikenfell's external grounds, the student dorms, and am now heading to the alchemy labs after having been stymied by an obstacle blocking the library, the next plot-mandated destination. Its pixel artwork looks good on character close-ups and the combat mode, but is relatively abstract the rest of the time with some top-down, zoomed-out 16-bit environments that have a simplicity that belies a great many secrets to uncover. While the combat is streamlined, it remains a necessity to trigger enemy encounters as often as possible due to how boss fights will offer regular spikes in difficulty. The combat and characterization are the highlights here, but the former might overwhelm you if you let it and the latter tends to be wholesome in ways that might prove slightly nauseating if you're not into the genre of teenagers accepting themselves and becoming better friends, lovers, and people. For what it's worth, I'm enjoying Ikenfell's heightened risk factor - I've already died twice so far, but the game generously lets you restart any battle - and its "AbraDegrassi" story of rebellious teen witches and warlocks running amok in an institution facing unprecedented turmoil. I'm going to stick with it for now and see how its late-game complexity fares; often the litmus of a great RPG, rather than the all-too-simple beginnings.

Rating: 4 out of 5. (So far.)