Verdict
Skate Story is an emotional triumph. It's not just about the art of skateboarding, but the community and shared space within it. Between woes about doing laundry and helping a pigeon finish their manuscript, it blends a realistic approach to tricking with a sensational sense of momentum. With an incredible soundtrack and haunting visuals to shred through, it's an incredible odyssey about what it means to be human.
Skateboarding has always fascinated me, despite never being any good at it. I spent my teen years idolizing Lance Mountain, Tony Alva, Bob Burnquist, and Eric Coston. There's something beautiful in it all, a constant pursuit of euphoria and progression. Skate Story says plenty about all of this, but that's just one layer of Sam Eng's underworld odyssey. I'm not afraid to admit that it's the first skating game I've shed tears over.
But before the waterworks start flowing, I need to consume moons. Seven of them, actually. That's if I want to claim the last shreds of my humanity back from the Devil, and finally get some sleep. The moon's too bright in the Underworld, after all. As a demon sulking around the depths of the afterlife, it's only natural to sign a contract that grants me my soul, as long as I complete this tasty solar system banquet. But like anything with fine print, Skate Story presents a catch: I'm completely made out of glass.
Unlike the Tony Hawk's Pro Skater series or EA's Skate, Eng's vision of skateboarding isn't necessarily about pulling off outlandish feats or making you feel like a master shredder. It's more about chasing the dopamine release. Pushing for the perfection your heart desires. It's a daunting task at first, letting the muscle memory of other games go. You might be eager to pull off combos in quick succession, but this isn't that kind of game - and it doesn't want to be either.
The act of skating here, at least at first, is more about precision and managing your movement methodically. You do flip tricks by combining the triggers with one button, be it A on the Nintendo Switch 2 or circle on the PlayStation 5. Powerslides scrape on the sidewalks by holding down Y/square. Those are just the fundamentals, as more advanced offerings are piecemealed through each chapter. Of course, you could figure it out yourself by happenstance.
However, I love that Skate Story introduces each new tool to your trick library at crucial moments. It feels like gaining a superpower in the heat of the moment, using it to leverage my way across Hell. Eventually, every combination comes together cleanly. It's the kind of sensation that genre-defining games like Skate 2 exude, albeit with more grit. When trick sequences unfold properly, I can only describe it as entering flow state. Speeding through levels is electric, too, with a sense of momentum most racers wish they had.
Boss fights aren't too difficult once you start putting the pieces of trickery together. Each of them requires you to lock in, demonstrating what you've learned in the last couple of hours. You'll struggle to find anything else out there quite like Skate Story's fights, that's for sure.
But while Eng's approach to performing the act of skating is different, there's still plenty of love for the game's contemporaries. Picking up stickers and items displays a notification that is almost identical to the typeface of Skate 2, while some objectives pay homage to finding letters around levels. Other influences, though, are a refreshing spin on what a skating game can be.
Skate Story requires you to truck along on a piece of wood with four wheels, but it's ultimately a wonderfully abstract narrative experience above all. That's apparent from the moment you meet Rabbie, your guide and only friend in the underworld. As your accomplice on this quest to devour each moon, Rabbie is just one of many delightful faces you'll meet.
The great thing about each character is that Eng pulls from FromSoftware's book of storytelling - especially the first Dark Souls entry. I mean, the game's main currency is called Souls. Yet, rather than blurt out everything you need to know, the circumstances of your demise and the functions of the underworld are sparsely spoken about. Why is there a coffee spot and numerous gift shops? Why is there a penguin jeweller giving off massive Uncut Gems energy?
The Devil's laundry keeps breaking washing machines. Other NPCs are reflections of the mundanity of everyday life. It's the kind of beauty that Jim Jarmusch's Paterson revels in. I'm meeting all these people caught up in the fabric of day jobs, but many of us are harbouring something creative underneath the surface. That's because Sam Eng's version of Hell isn't a fiery pit of souls and brutality. Hell is the dissatisfaction in daily life: no sleep, not enough pay, not enough social time, not enough moments for sweet treats.
It's more so a fractured existence, with echoes of familiar architecture lingering around you like ghosts. Their adoration for New York City and its decades of skating history is infectious. Whether it's roaming around an ethereal rendition of the Washington Square Arch or speeding down fractures of the Manhattan Bridge, it's a world brimming with stunning art direction. It weaves between psychedelic trips of lens flares, lo-fi textural plains, and rough edges, often all at once.
I wish some of these areas were more easily accessible once the credits roll. With the lack of a free skate mode, it's a shame that these haunting, oil-slick-laden landscapes are locked to playing through the story. With a mesmerising soundtrack from Blood Cultures and John Fio, Skate Story makes me feel like passing through a concept album, and this quest to reclaim myself is the visualizer. Aside from Metroid Prime 4: Beyond, this is one of the most gorgeous games on the Nintendo Switch 2 right now. It runs like butter, too, with only two instances of clipping outside the level hindering the experience slightly.
Skate Story looks and sounds like bliss, right down to my urethane wheels hitting each pebble, stone, and crack in the pavement. But the real gem of this new Switch game is everything it wants to say about life, about skateboarding, imposter syndrome, and about the human experience. In a game where you're on the verge of shattering into pieces at any point, there's something deeply validating about it. It's okay to not be okay.
It's alright to be vulnerable, to not be certain about what life holds, to have regrets. We don't have to have everything figured out. Heck, why should we? Alongside it, there's a genuine sense of Eng's love for community, shared spaces, and growing together. Skating culture, at its core, is all about the group experience. Getting better and failing together. A notion that is transferable to any part of existing on this big blue planet.
In the end, even if we're frail and ready to break, we can always get back up always pull ourselves together. That's the real Skate Story.