‘Crisol: Theater of Idols’ Is a Charming Callback to Gimmick-Centric Shooters [Review]

There was a distinct breed of action game in the late 2000s to early 2010s that I have affectionately categorised as “the Blockbuster rental”. Some titles that fall under this taxonomy include Bulletstorm, Army of Two, Dark Sector, and John Woo’s Stranglehold.

Looking back, not a single one of these solid (but inessential) outings set the world ablaze in terms of either critical reception or commercial success. Nor were they watershed releases that left any meaningful impact on the cultural zeitgeist. Hell, they don’t even tend to crop up in conversation much nowadays. That is, unless someone is explaining how Dark Sector spun off into the much more relevant and enduring Warframe.

And yet, for the brief period that you had them on loan from Blockbuster Video — because, let’s be honest, they weren’t quite worth shelling out $50 to own first-hand — they were utterly delightful. The video-game equivalent of summer flings, they may have only been in your life for a handful of days, but you cherished what little time you had with them and remember it fondly.

Honestly, in today’s era of bloated epics (that demand a level of commitment rivalled only by a career in the legal sector) and constantly evolving live-services (that will linger on until the entropic heat death of the universe), I kind of miss these disposable experiences. Perhaps it’s just millennial nostalgia talking, but I think we’ve lost something in the mad rush to make every AAA game bigger, more expansive, and, frankly, drawn out.

Which is why I am so pleased to report that the underdog spirit of “the Blockbuster rental” now lives on in the reasonably-priced Crisol: Theater of Idols. The latest offering from Blumhouse’s diversification into the video game market, this pacy horror-shooter shares a few aesthetic similarities with Bioshock, and it borrows quite a lot from Resident Evil Village, too. Yet, in its heart of hearts, it’s got far more in common with something like Singularity (for my money, the archetypal rental game).

To be clear, this is not intended as a dig at Crisol. On the contrary, I mean it with all due love and respect. Playing through its ideal length 12-hour campaign, exploring its self-contained biomes, and enjoying the simple pleasures of its no-frills gameplay (unburdened by open world busywork, crafting menus, or loot systems) gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling. Almost as if I was being transported back to the halcyon days of the Xbox 360.

The Body And The Blood

The criteria a game must fulfil in order to warrant inclusion in my “Blockbuster rental” canon are admittedly abstract. But it effectively boils down to three main traits.

First and foremost, the title in question cannot outstay its welcome and should be easily beaten in a single weekend. Secondly, it needs to maintain a tight focus on its core action mechanics without getting bogged down in any unnecessary guff or tedious padding. Both of which are boxes that Crisol obligingly ticks.

The third attribute — and perhaps the toughest to nail down — is that these games ought to have some kind of creative twist spicing up what would otherwise be generic shooting gallery segments. In the case of Singularity, for instance, the player was able to invert or accelerate the flow of time at will, using the subsequent changes in the environment to their advantage. Stranglehold, on the other hand, encouraged you to master John Woo’s balletic choreography in a way that blended cover-based shootouts with the trick-chaining panache of a Tony Hawk skateboarding sim. Meanwhile, Dark Sector had its versatile glaive, Bulletstorm its arcadey skillpoints, and Army of Two its unique co-op interactions.

Theater of Idols delivers on this account as well. In fact, it might actually overdeliver, given that it boasts not one but two attention-grabbing gimmicks!

Gimmick #1 is that all of the enemies are religious effigies that have miraculously (or alarmingly, depending on your theological persuasion) sprung to life. What’s so fun about this is that their distinguishing characteristics and behaviours vary according to the material that they were fashioned from. If it’s just a basic wooden representation of a holy figure, then it can be reduced to kindling by either blasting away its constituent parts or whittling it down with your durable knife. Conversely, the stained-glass wraiths you encounter won’t go down quite so easy and can clone themselves whenever they are fractured. Then there’s the oil-painted gremlins, which spawn out of portrait frames and can liquify as a way of escaping your crosshairs.

As for Gimmick #2, that’s less about what foes you are fighting and more about how you fight them. You see, Crisol’s weapons don’t take traditional cartridges or magazines. Instead, they fire bullets that are made from congealed blood, and reloading them therefore requires somebody to make a generous donation from their own vitals.

I say “somebody” but, as it turns out, this sacrifice can only come from the gun wielder themself. So, every time that you want to stock up on ammunition, you’ll need to jab the butt of your chosen firearm into the palm of your hand and allow a hidden needle to drain sanguis until its thirst has been quenched. Think of it kind of like how the scarab beetle device worked in Guillermo Del Toro’s Cronos, and you’re in the right ballpark.

Aside from being a cool body horror visual and a nice bit of worldbuilding, this wrinkle has proper gameplay implications. After all, it means that Crisol’s ammo is universal, with your blood being just as compatible with the peashooter as it is with the sniper or the machine gun. The only difference is how much each piece of artillery asks you to give.

And make no mistake, you will have to weigh up these things frugally. Because it’s not only the guns that draw upon the precious commodity of blood here, it’s also your life bar. As such, whenever you reload, it comes with the suboptimal trade-off of inflicting damage upon yourself.

With ammo and health effectively being the same resource, you’ll have to make some risky judgement calls. Does the situation warrant converting a pint of ichor into buckshot for your powerful double-barrel, when a less costly projectile might do the trick? Can you really justify filling up the magazine of an assault rifle when its erratic spread means a fair number of bullets won’t connect with their intended target? Would it be more economical to just sprint past enemies and take a few hits?

There’s never a right or wrong answer to any of these questions, which makes every dilemma feel agonising and truly high stakes. It’s one hell of a gimmick, worthy of the very best 360-era shooters.

Praise the Sun

You might be wondering what possible circumstances could have you facing off against wood-carved saints and waxen cherubim, all while hooking up a rusty shotgun to your veins. Well, Crisol’s narrative is rather involved and lore-heavy. So, we’ll just cover the basics for now.

Set in an alternate history Spain, the game casts you in the role of a religious zealot who has pledged his life to the Sun (as both a literal celestial object and also a sentient, supreme being). Completely devoted to this doctrine and having a Moses-esque direct line to your lord and master, you are dispatched to the heretical island of Tormentosa on a top-secret mission.

It’s an assignment that you don’t exactly relish, with each second that you spend on the accursed rock feeling downright profane. That’s because, here, the residents worship not the sky above but the abyssal depths below. The Sea is their deity, and reminders of this sacrilegious belief surround you everywhere you tread.

Propaganda materials implore apostates to “join the storm”, while the converted brag of how their faith will one day be rewarded when they get to see the Sun “drown beneath the waves”. Not to mention, the architecture is all themed around maritime iconography. You’ll quickly notice, for instance, how anchors serve the same function in Tormentosa as the crucifix does for the Catholic Church. It’s centered in all their altars, placed atop the highest steeples, hung above residences, used to display flags, and even displaces the rod around which snakes coil in the caduceus sign.

To use a suitably religious analogy, you’re in the lion’s den here. Everyone hates the Sun, everyone hates his servants, and all of the enemy’s devotional idols have been weaponized to keep you from fulfilling your sacred mission. Which, in case you haven’t guessed, is to slay the Lord of the Sea himself!

Luckily, you have been imbued with divine powers to help you overcome the daunting odds. As the so-called “Champion of the Sun” (a moniker that will likely induce sniggers from fans of a certain long-running FX sitcom), you can manipulate blood in all its forms. Not only does this allow you to wield the aforementioned vampiric ordinance, but it also enables you to absorb the lifeforce of animal carcases for a quick pick-me-up and tap into blood memory echoes that let you glimpse into the past.

Equipped with both these abilities, as well as an undeterred fanaticism, you promptly team up with the local “Tercio de El Sol” resistance to take down the Sea once and for all. Doing so, however, will require you to first track down and defeat the Lord’s four heirs, each of whom can be found ruling over a separate district of Tormentosa.

¡Bienvenido a Tormentosa!

Suffice it to say, it’s a video-gamey plot that’s sole purpose seems to be justifying a bunch of creative set pieces and giving you adequate reason to explore diverse biomes. There are some narrative twists and turns along the way, but you’ll see them all coming a mile off, and it’s doubtful that you’ll get too invested in the machinations of the warring factions.

This lack of story depth would have been a bigger issue were it not for how Crisol imagines such a characterful world, rich with implicit history and lived-in detail. The nautical aesthetic definitely brings Bioshock to mind, as does the graphical style, the familiar HUD, and the emphasis on deserted locations. Hell, at one point, you even stumble across a bathysphere!

Yet despite the many similarities they share on (ironically enough) the surface, it soon becomes apparent that Rapture and Tormentosa are very different communities indeed. Whereas one is a metropolis founded on Randian ideals of objectivism, individualism, and unchecked progress at any cost, the other is a society where authority resides entirely with the Church, and where the dogma of that institution cannot be questioned. Very much the opposite of what Andrew Ryan envisioned with his secular utopia!

The primacy of religion has a knock-on effect for the imagery as well, with Theater of Idols swapping out Rapture’s art deco stylings for more baroque influences. In general, there is a European quality to much of the architecture here. The canals that intersect Tormentosa’s roads recall the iconic waterways of Venice, while the ornate cathedrals dotted around the island wouldn’t feel out of place in Cologne or Barcelona.

Speaking of which, the other thing that makes this environment stand out is its relationship with Spanish culture. Madrid-based developer, Vermila Studios, has lifted many recognisable elements from their homeland and embedded them into the fictional world.

Bull fighting is all the rage; the fashion is based around bold, colourful fabrics; posters advertising flamenco classes litter the streets; and regional dishes can be found unfinished in the many eateries you pass through. Much like in last year’s Cronos: The New Dawn, all of the text is presented in the native language, too, and will only be translated if you hover your cursor over it. Which is another nice touch.

The Island’s Must-Sees and Hidden Gems

Such evocative worldbuilding makes you really curious to explore every nook and cranny of the environment. Which is a good thing, because straying from the beaten path is heavily incentivised by the developers.

Bioshock might jump out as the most obvious inspiration for Theater of Idols if you’re only glancing at promotional screenshots, but Resident Evil Village is a more appropriate reference point for both structure and game design. Taking after Capcom’s title, it’s a horror-shooter hybrid that’s played from a first-person perspective. Its map also shares the same hub-and-spoke layout, and it recycles the plot of having you assassinate a quartet of liege lords who each rule over their own distinct territories.

The latter aspect guarantees that the game is always refreshing itself, with you going from one creatively themed area to another. The first stop on your sightseeing tour will be a seedy neighbourhood of vice — concealing Tormentosa’s shameful gambling establishments and brothels — before you then head to an industrial mining site and afterwards a subterranean prison complex. Each of these zones has its own unique atmosphere, backstory, booby traps, and creature types to shake things up, ensuring that the adventure never grows stale.

From a design point of view, they are also densely packed with secrets to reward those who keep their eyes peeled. On that note, while the game is largely linear, exploration is still encouraged. It’s not as intricately designed as, say, Crow Country, but by solving metroidvania puzzles and backtracking to previously walled-off locations, you can unlock useful shortcuts, find extra weapons, discover hidden treasures, and learn more about Tormentosa’s bloody history. There’s an invigorating sense of discovery here, and it’s immensely satisfying to consult your map and see a room change from red to teal, indicating that you have thoroughly picked it clean.

The only drawback when it comes to this compelling exploration is that certain bits of optional content can be missed altogether if you unwittingly cross a point of no return. It’s not a major grievance by any means, but I was a little peeved on those occasions where I had intended to retrace my steps only to find that a ceiling had caved in behind me or that a portcullis had shut once and for all. It just felt like an unnecessary impediment that prevented me from seeing and doing everything that the developers had worked so hard on.

Holy War

To the title’s credit, the reason this vexed me so much is that, on a moment-to-moment basis, I was enjoying everything Crisol had to offer and didn’t want to miss out. Like a perfect Blockbuster rental of old, it was consistently entertaining, and there wasn’t an ounce of fat to be trimmed.

The combat is a particular highlight, with special enemy variants forcing you to adapt your strategy on the fly. Rank and file wooden idols, for example, can effortlessly be dispatched using the standard pistol, but you do have to unlearn that ingrained muscle memory to instinctively go for the headshot every time. After all, these ligneous foes don’t have brains to destroy, so there’s little point in aiming for where the grey matter should be. They’ll just keep coming. In fact, I found that blasting off their legs and slowing them to a literal crawl was far more effective.

Elsewhere, the oil painting gremlins dart around like stalkers from The Last of Us (flanking you if you don’t keep track of their position) and granite mini-bosses soak up damage in a way that depletes your blood reserves at an alarming rate. As for those stained-glass warriors, trust me when I say they’re best kept at a distance, what with their devastating melee attacks and tendency to explode into a shower of lacerating shards upon their death.

As you can tell, each inclusion in the game’s bestiary has an awesome visual design, idiosyncratic behaviours, and clever abilities. Vermila wisely keeps them apart at first— so you get used to dealing with the different breeds in isolation — before later mixing and matching them in frightening combinations. It’s during those more hectic gauntlets that the combat becomes truly electrifying, with you flitting back and forth between tactics and making split-second decisions about how you want to use your remaining blood. When all of Crisol’s mechanics come together like this, it’s the most I’ve enjoyed straightforward FPS action in quite some time.

It doesn’t hurt that the guns are uniformly excellent to handle as well. You might think that some of them are nerfed to begin with, but if you invest in them at the shop in the hub area, then they can become the platonic ideal of their respective class. I initially wrote off the sniper rifle because it took way too long to reload and didn’t adequately make up for that with its underwhelming firepower.

Once I’d coughed up a few coins to address its weaknesses, though, it became my go-to weapon and took pride of place in my hotkey bindings. I wish more titles made their upgrade systems feel this impactful, as you can really tell the difference when you’ve made a purchase here, and it makes you legitimately excited for your next trip to the store.

A Test of Faith (and Patience)

In the downtime between skirmishes, you will have to solve some surprisingly meaty puzzles. I tend to be quite critical of other horror games for making their brain teasers feel like an obligatory afterthought, but, honestly, some of the ones in Crisol might go too far the other way!

I don’t know if I’ve succumbed to cerebral atrophy at a premature age, but I’m embarrassed to say how long it took me to crack some of the riddles here. To be clear, I was never stumped on what I actually had to do. The goal is usually pretty evident, and they’re all problems that you’ve encountered before in some guise or another. Balance the scales. Complete the jigsaw picture. Calibrate the voltage on an electronic device. That sort of thing.

What’s unusually tricky in this instance, however, is getting the requisite pieces to line up just right. One safe-cracking conundrum — which has three rotating plates that need to be precisely aligned yet turn at inconsistent increments — was my personal white whale. Indeed, it had me seriously wondering if I’d hit a brick wall and wouldn’t be able to complete the game in time to meet this review deadline. Granted, I did triumphantly punch the air when I finally worked it out, but the nervous breakdown that preceded this victory cast a pall on the afternoon.

Still, I have to respect how Vermila did include substantive puzzles that actually get your neurons firing. What they didn’t flesh out quite so well, though, was the flimsy stealth. There’s barely anything to it beyond crouching behind obstacles and waiting patiently for foes to piss off.

In all fairness, there aren’t too many of these forced sequences, but they do get fatiguing after a while. Invariably, they will drop you into some labyrinthine arena and assign an objective that entails making a lot of noise, all while you are hunted by a persistent, misophonic stalker named Dolores.

A towering executioner composed of metal, porcelain, and flesh, she is initially threatening and seems like she could be a worthy successor to Mr. X or Lady Dimitrescu. The sheen quickly wears off, though, as you get fed up with her cyclical patrols, looping dialogue, and obstinate refusal to give you a fucking break! Not to mention, when you eventually discover that she can be more easily outrun than eluded, it trivialises the whole affair and robs her of whatever menace she once possessed.

Developers need to be careful with these characters because they can often be more annoying than they are scary. Dolores regrettably falls into the former camp. If she had been used sparingly, she might have left a more favourable impression. Alas, by the time you get to your third or fourth altercation with her, she’s been reduced to naught but a pesky nuisance.

With all that said, Crisol: Theater of Idols does certainly have its blemishes. Nevertheless, they’re comfortably outweighed by its far more numerous (and far more considerable) charms. A winning throwback to the days of gimmicky console shooters, it has exhilarating action, tight pacing, great style, and original ideas to spare.

In the days of Blockbuster Video, I’d declare it a must-rent, and that’d be a ringing endorsement. Yet with that retail chain no longer in existence, and with the game having a very reasonable $17.99 price tag, I guess I’ll have to settle for calling it a must-buy instead.

Review code provided by publisher. Crisol: Theater of Idols is now available on PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S and PC via Steam.