Humanity’s last survivors hold an artificial island called the Ark against constant interdimensional incursion, and the response is a police task force that fights chimeras with creatures chained to their own hands. The premise arrives through a procedural lens: case files, lockdown documents, pandemic records and a captain’s diary piece the world together, while two new recruits divide combat and detective work between them. Presentation makes the opening claim immediately credible, from the cinematic intro through bike sections whose visual confidence holds up for the whole campaign.
Legion combat drives the action. Five summonable types carry distinct traversal and combat identities: the sword as the default, the axe trading speed for the strongest damage with a stun that re-ranks it as the best weapon, the arrow for ranged and aerial work, the beast for riding and digging, and the arm for grabbing and binding. Sync attacks, chain binds and slow-motion finishers layer rhythm on top, and slingshotting enemies around the arena never loses its appeal across the campaign.
The deliberate Legion-fusion setpiece supplies the campaign’s most memorable scene. Merging with the Legion on purpose, staged against the soundtrack’s fusion theme, ranks among the best choreographed moments the system produces, and the music throughout earns equal billing: the score elevates every encounter, and individual themes hold up outside the game entirely.
Case structure distinguishes the design from every other character-action game. Investigations include interviews, crime-scene deduction, keyword notes and sent-tracking, and the Red Ghost deduction plays fair with its clues. File 8’s quarantined Sector 5 is the storytelling peak: the Hermits, Kyle’s ambush, the Douglas mystery and a surveillance-camera reveal stretch over six hours of the game’s most compelling material, and unmarked secret cases reward obsessive exploration with real payoffs.
Progression runs through Gene codes for skills, material codes for upgrades, Duty points for ranks and cosmetics, and file-ranked cases with missed-case tracking. Post-game File 12 offers seventy-one repeatable combat cases ending in a super boss. New mechanics keep arriving nearly to the credits, and the premium material codes gate the endgame heavily enough to become the final bottleneck.
Platforming is the campaign’s loudest flaw. Landings never quite match the target icon, vertical sections feel imprecise in a game otherwise built on precision, and the flaw survives to the closing assessment as the single repeated complaint. Red matter cleanup caps at eighty per cent per file on a first run, hidden cases make the final sweep painful to hunt, and miscellaneous mini-games, box-carrying, sliding-block car puzzles and ice-cream balancing, supply the campaign’s low points.
Characterisation frays at the edges. The silent protagonist nods through moments that want dialogue, a key supporting character turns moody after losing her Legion, and the villain’s turn is signposted so early that the mid-game cutscene reads as confirmation rather than revelation. Camera trouble in goo, fog and multi-enemy fights rounds out the friction.
Overall, the Legion combat, soundtrack, case-shaped structure and total visual confidence make this one of the Switch’s most stylish action games, and the flaws sit at its edges rather than its core. Platforming, predictable villainy and cleanup padding are real costs. A confident, inventive package whose dual-control system and detective frame remain unlike anything else in the genre.
