Witnessing the trajectory of Life Is Strange has been nothing short of remarkable. From its humble beginnings in 2015 to the rich tapestry of sequels, spinoffs, and spiritual successors, DontNod Entertainment carved out a distinctive niche in the realm of character-driven games. Each installment — whether crafted by DontNod or Deck Nine — brings a fresh dose of Twin Peaks-inspired supernatural intrigue, heartfelt narratives that balance between endearing sincerity and occasional cringe, and a celebration of connections among queer and ethnic folks on the margins of society.
Still, the games have grappled with an identity crisis, with its latest effort from Deck Nine veering away from the indie film charm of its predecessors into a Marvel-esque spectacle that feels disconnected from what initially endeared it to fans. Fortunately, Lost Records: Bloom & Rage not only recaptures the essence of the original Life Is Strange but also carves out its own genuine, compelling path, standing proudly as a spiritual successor that elevates the genres poignant theming and character writing to greater heights and establishes a universe uniquely its own.
Lost Records: Bloom & Rage, developed by DontNod Montréal — a new branch made up of Life is Strange alumni — channels the nostalgic vibe of Starzs Yellowjackets, but trades cannibalism for an extra dose of lesbian witches. The narrative oscillates between two timelines: the summer of 1995, when four teenage girls form a punk rock band called Bloom & Rage, and their reunion 27 years later. Players step into the shoes of Swann, a reserved loner who dreams of being a filmmaker, capturing her small-town life in Velvet Cove, Michigan, with her camcorder. After clashing with a bigoted teenage boy, Swann bonds with fellow outcasts Nora, the rebellious punk; Autumn, the nurturing friend with a “mom” role in the clique; and Kat, the intense, introverted leader. Now in their 40s, the women gather in their hometown bar to uncover long-forgotten supernatural events that led them to drift apart — and the vow they made never to reunite.
What stood out to me was the exceptional character writing and the fresh, innovative approach to relationship dynamics. Lost Records is less about scrubbing for collectables or check boxes — like which of your companions you might want to smooch while erratically switching up your personality like a fake-ass friend — and more about letting you document the little moments you think are worth remembering.
Lost Records writing sidesteps the pitfalls of binary good-versus-bad choices by enriching its dialogue with the nuance that comes from learning to shut up, listen, and mull over thoughtful responses instead of feverishly clicking the first reactions that are available in intimate and casual chats. In any other game, if you held out on selecting a knee-jerk dialogue response and cutting off one of Swanns friends, that other character would simply trail off like waiting room music as you deliberated over which binary options to respond to them with. In Lost Records, new dialogue prompts will appear the more Swanns friends reveal tidbits of safeguarded feelings about their predicaments, be it in 1995 or the present, giving you the option to press further with more piercing responses or letting them hang to spare their feelings. More often than not, I waited out and didnt automatically choose the new prompts as they appeared because they didnt gel with the relationships Id engendered with Swanns friends. I was basically embodying the “We listen, we dont judge” meme, and yet, the sense that I was truly hearing them, rather than steamrolling over their shyly shared insecurities, felt tangible in every interaction.
Lost Records tracks who you spend the most time with, dynamically shaping Swanns closest relationships — whether with a best friend or a potential romantic partner. Having played numerous games of Life is Stranges ilk, I initially found myself slipping into the old, Pavlovian mindset of wanting to “solve” the game, treating dialogue choices and environmental puzzles like formulaic tasks to arrive at the “correct answers.” However, Lost Records shatters the mold of predictable gameplay. Its dialogue system moves away from the “pick the right option to succeed” formula, instead fostering relationships that feel raw and genuine, capturing the unfiltered essence of teenagers, whether theyre just shooting the shit or getting real. Lost Records champions responses that feel authentic rather than calculated, focusing on spontaneity and sincerity over mechanical decision-making.
Before long, I found myself shedding my pushing-30 “mature” sensibilities and embracing the kind of magical theater that makes grown men passionately cheer or boo pro wrestlers, fully immersing in Swanns angsty teen years. This approach drew me deeper into the experience, allowing Swanns relationships to evolve naturally, with all the grounded chaos of real teenage connections.
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Speaking of teenage connections, I found Lost Records characters to be wonderfully flawed and delightfully likable as they all sorted out the lengths they were willing to go to buck the norm of conforming to being the kind of adults who would be patted on the head for being seen and not heard. Nora, for instance, embodies a free spirit whose rebellious streak, left unchecked, could make her a flight risk within the friend group. She eagerly co-signs every destructive scheme pitched to fight against out-of-touch adult expectations.
Autumn, on the other hand, is the empathetic "mom friend" and the only Black girl in the ensemble. Her role carries emotional weight, as her feelings and opinions are often disregarded when tensions rise, forcing her to play the spoilsport to the others impulsive outbursts.
Then theres Kat, the self-destructive mastermind whose charm lies in her intensity and unpredictability. While she often finds herself in over her head, her edge and a hint of danger make her an unforgettable presence in the group dynamic. Swann, as the protagonist, ties all these relationships together, navigating the messy, heartfelt connections that define the story.
Lost Records: Bloom & Rage_20250224155715Playing as Swann felt like playing as an indie film director, thanks to the footage I captured on her camcorder, which ranged from serene nature documentaries and indie-style vignettes to Blair Witch-style found footage. Lost Records also inspired me to brush up on classic film techniques, such as dolly zooms, golden ratios, and the art of backlighting subjects intentionally. One moment Im particularly proud of myself for was in Bloom & Rages music video, where I framed Kat by zooming out through Noahs Arm on her hip — a subtle but natural bit of candid camera work that, while not super highfalutin, gave the music video a sense of professionalism.
Lost Records goes above and beyond with its photo mode and editing tools, giving players the ability to curate Swanns home videos into polished, cinematic creations. Once I stopped recording aimlessly, as if I were sweatily playing Outlast, I began to hone my directors eye, capturing candid moments between Swann and her bandmates. The game then elevates this mechanic further, allowing you to craft these clips into documentary-style projects, guerrilla photography sequences, or nature-focused montages, adding a deeply personal touch to the experience. Ultimately, Lost Records made life feel like a film, seamlessly blending Swanns camcorder into the gameplay in ways that havent been seen — or matched — since Maxs portrait photography in Life Is Strange.
What left me perplexed about Lost Records was its primary antagonist, Corey Litchfield, who felt almost exaggeratedly evil. While Tape 1 hinted at some potential depth, as if challenging me to empathize with a flat, cocky teenage jerk who is also the abusive boyfriend of Kats sister, Tape 2 quickly dropped any pretense — he was just an irredeemable jerk, plain and simple. That fit the story Lost Records wanted to tell, though it was intriguing that the game briefly flirted with showing a sliver of humanity in a character doomed to be unlikable from the start.
Another element that felt underexplored was Lost Records supernatural aspects. While I initially felt frustrated at the credits, particularly with the stinger teasing future games, Ive grown to appreciate the games understated approach. Lost Records depiction of the supernatural reflects the ambiguity and unanswered questions that often define teenage experiences — a force that both empowers and disrupts, mysterious and ambivalent. In many ways, it felt like an enigmatic extension of the girls themselves, serving as their collective id.
Lost Records: Bloom & Rage feels like a genuine return to form for Life is Strange spiritual successors, offering a concise yet profoundly moving story enriched with heartfelt themes, tightly-woven character dynamics, and subtly captivating supernatural elements. Although I suspect I landed the "bad" ending among its possible outcomes, this only heightened the emotional depth of the experience. Bonding with Swann and her friends felt like reconnecting with reflections of relationships Ive nurtured in my own life, cherishing them in the present before they inevitably fade into memories. That sense of fleeting connection is nothing short of magical.
Lost Records: Bloom & Rage was released on Feb. 18 (Tape 1) and April 15 (Tape 2) for PlayStation 5, Windows PC, and Xbox Series X. The game was reviewed on PlayStation 5 using a prerelease download code provided by Dont Nod. Vox Media has affiliate partnerships. These do not influence editorial content, though Vox Media may earn commissions for products purchased via affiliate links. You can find additional information about Polygons ethics policy here.
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