It sounds like a tourist resort more than anything else: ‘Come to Arcadia’ says the brochure, ‘a relaxing videogame destination that’s a holiday of soothing escapism for the retired and burnt out’. But whereas most brochures offer sun, sea and sand, Arcadia’s resort proffers six moons, an ‘ocean’ of fresh air and expansive rock drifts. Instead of redcoats, Arcadia has Blue Rogues. You won’t be so much sipping margaritas by the pool as swigging spicy grog on the deck of a battleship. Despite the floaty, laid-back promise of its title, Skies Of Arcadia is a swashbuckling adventure worthy of its own Disneyland ride: “Where there’s treasure… there are pirates” the game introduces itself.

Piracy in Arcadia comes in two flavours: black and blue. Black Pirates are those who plunder and pillage for their own greedy gain. Blue Rogues, however, are the kind of pirates who are fighting for a right to back up their wares – a band of merry men who steal from the rich in order to keep themselves jolly with homebrew alcohol while helping those in need. The game introduces the Blue Rogues in the midst of a raid on a booty-rich Valuan airship, as energetic teenagers Vyse and Aika throw themselves into the midst of combat before their captain – Vyse’s father Dyne – even makes it aboard.



From the off, Vyse is a refreshingly far cry from the typically moody, self-involved adolescents that often make up the boy-men of fantasy RPGs. Mature, ambitious and earnestly hungry for adventure, he helps give the story some genuine heroic credibility, of voluntary involvement through choice instead of being driven by fate and a disastrous past: empowerment, not obligation. He has both a mother and a father who are present to support him – that RPG rarity of a fully functioning family unit – and there’s no great calamity that haunts him and forces him into seeking adventure.

The moment when Vyse officially leaves home, for example, with his skyfaring dad acknowledging him as an equal, is as touching as it isn’t melodramatic, with both parents on hand to offer their blessings instead of blubbery histrionics. Vyse’s down-to-earth nature is buffered by the aforementioned Aika, an ever-present confidante and childhood friend, and a playful female companion. More games need a marriage like this: splitting the emotional and verbal duties of the lead character into a double act, a sexless husband and wife who can reassure and question one another without the game having to resort to the internal monologue of a glum teen. Aika and Vyse’s relationship is flirty and loving, but never blooms into the dreaded romantic subplot, filled with ellipses and uncomfortable mutterings. Virtual girls and boys can do more than just stumble their ways clumsily and bashfully through formative relationships, it seems.



The familial feel is reinforced heavily during the latter half of the game, with Vyse nurturing his own crew, establishing a base on a charming deserted island, cultivating the very culture that raised him and continuing his generation. Much in the vein of Dark Chronicle – where players recruit known villagers and allies, and relocate them to certain settlements in order to fulfil future bloodlines – Vyse has the chance to coax plenty of prospective deckhands into his crew. Some, even, from the ranks of his father’s followers.