There’s no shortage of Metroidvanias in 2026, but very few feel genuinely alien. Not just in aesthetic, but in philosophy—how they structure progression, how they present their worlds, and how they ask players to engage with them. Vanishing Starlight, the latest from Heart Seven, is one of those rare exceptions: a game that doesn’t simply remix genre conventions but actively challenges them.
Blending cyberpunk futurism with the mythological weight of the Shan Hai Jing, it creates a world that feels both ancient and impossibly distant. You play as Salt, a condemned prisoner stripped of memory and identity, navigating a fragmented cosmos shaped by indifferent, godlike forces. It’s a premise that leans heavily into existential territory—and crucially, the game’s mechanics reinforce that sense of fragmentation and reconstruction at every turn.
A World Between Myth and Machine
From the moment you step into Vanishing Starlight, its world design immediately stands out. This isn’t a cohesive kingdom or a neatly interconnected map in the traditional Metroidvania sense. Instead, the game unfolds across distinct “nations” suspended within a vast, star-strewn void—places like the molten Ignysium or the hauntingly aquatic Tidesong.
Each region feels like its own ecosystem, shaped by natural forces and the unseen hand of the gods. There’s a quiet hostility to the environments, not always through enemies, but in how they exist independently of you. Civilisations struggle, decay, or evolve regardless of your presence, reinforcing the core theme: you are not the centre of this universe.
Visually, the fusion of neon-lit cyberpunk elements with mythological creature design is striking. Ancient beasts are reimagined through a technological lens—glowing circuitry etched into their forms, mechanical augmentations blending seamlessly with organic horror. It’s a style that could have felt disjointed, but instead becomes one of the strongest identities of the game.
The Triple Form System: Identity as a Mechanic
Where Vanishing Starlight truly stands out is through its “Triple Form of Armors” system. At any moment, Salt can switch between three distinct armour sets, each effectively functioning as its own class.
This isn’t merely a cosmetic or statistical change. Each form fundamentally changes how you interact with the world. One might prioritise mobility, enabling aerial manoeuvres or rapid traversal options. Another leans into heavy combat, sacrificing speed for devastating power. A third might offer utility-focused abilities that interact with environmental systems in unique ways.
Importantly, the game encourages—and often demands—fluid switching between these forms. Puzzles are designed around combining abilities across armours, requiring quick thinking and experimentation. Combat also benefits from this flexibility, allowing players to adapt mid-fight to enemy behaviours or shifting conditions.
It’s a system that adds a layer of mechanical depth rarely seen in the genre. Instead of gradually unlocking abilities that stack on a single character, you’re effectively managing multiple playstyles at once. The result is a constant sense of adaptation—of rebuilding your identity on the fly, reflecting Salt’s own fragmented sense of self.
Combat: Precision Through Complexity
Combat in Vanishing Starlight is intentional and often challenging. Enemy design focuses on pattern recognition and spatial awareness, with many encounters demanding careful positioning and timing rather than brute force.
Boss fights are where the game truly shines. Drawing inspiration from creatures in Chinese mythology, these battles are both visually stunning and mechanically layered. Each boss feels like a puzzle, often requiring mastery of all three armour forms to defeat.
However, this complexity can sometimes lead to frustration. The need to manage multiple forms under pressure, along with punishing enemy attacks, can create a steep difficulty curve. For some players, this is exhilarating; for others, it may be overwhelming.
There is also a slight rigidity to the combat flow. While the systems are deep, they don’t always feel as smooth as they could, especially when shifting between forms mid-fight. It’s a minor but noticeable point of friction in an otherwise well-designed system.
Exploration and Progression
Exploration follows a more traditional Metroidvania structure, with new abilities unlocking previously inaccessible areas. However, the fragmented nature of the world gives progression a less linear feel.
Backtracking is frequent but rarely feels like filler; instead, it becomes an opportunity to reinterpret familiar spaces through the lens of newly acquired abilities. Hidden pathways, optional challenges, and narrative fragments reward thorough exploration, encouraging players to engage deeply with each region.
The game’s approach to storytelling is similarly fragmented. Instead of delivering a straightforward narrative, it presents pieces of lore through environmental details, cryptic dialogue, and collectible memories.
This can make the story feel elusive, but that’s clearly intentional. The act of piecing together Salt’s past — and the nature of the gods who oversee this world — becomes part of the gameplay itself.
Atmosphere and Sound Design
If there’s one area where Vanishing Starlight truly excels, it’s atmosphere. The game sustains a constant sense of unease, not through obvious horror, but through its tone.
There’s a quiet melancholy to the world, a feeling that everything is on the brink of collapse or transformation. The gods, ever-present yet distant, add an oppressive weight to the experience. They are not villains in the traditional sense, but forces of nature—fathomless and indifferent.
The soundtrack complements this beautifully, blending ambient electronic tones with more traditional instrumentation. It’s subtle, often fading into the background, but it reinforces the game’s emotional undercurrent.
Sound design during combat and exploration is equally effective, with each action and environment possessing a distinct auditory identity.
Performance and Presentation
On PlayStation 5, Vanishing Starlight runs smoothly, with stable performance even during more intense sequences. Load times are minimal, and the visual clarity allows its intricate designs to shine.
There are occasional minor issues—slight animation hiccups or brief frame dips—but nothing that significantly detracts from the experience. Overall, it’s a polished presentation that does justice to the game’s ambitious art direction.
Final Verdict
Vanishing Starlight is not a game that aims to please everyone—and that’s exactly what makes it compelling. It’s dense, sometimes challenging, and unapologetically complex in both its mechanics and its storytelling.
The Triple Form system stands out as an innovative feature, adding a layer of depth and versatility that enhances exploration and combat. Paired with its striking visual style and richly atmospheric world, it creates an experience that genuinely feels different within a crowded genre.
Nevertheless, its ambition involves certain compromises. The steep learning curve, occasional mechanical quirks, and fragmented narrative may deter players seeking a more straightforward experience.
For those willing to engage with its systems and accept its ambiguity, Vanishing Starlight offers something rare: a Metroidvania that seems to be pushing the genre forward rather than simply copying it.
