“In the face of darkness, even a flicker of hope can shine bright.”
That’s the underlying message of 9 Years of Shadows, a side-scrolling metroidvania that weaves themes of grief, healing, and color—literally—into its pixelated world. Developed by Halberd Studios, the game opens with a compelling premise: a world drained of color, corrupted by sorrow, and one brave warrior named Europa determined to restore it. On paper, it promises an emotional, beautiful, and action-packed ride. And for a few hours, it really is. But unfortunately, 9 Years of Shadows gets tangled in its own design, leading to a slow, frustrating unravel by the end.
The game begins in the ruins of civilization, where a mysterious curse has robbed the world of its vibrance—color has been sapped from everything, and with it, joy and hope. You play as Europa, an orphaned warrior who lost her family to this corruption. Armed with her halberd and accompanied by a cuddly magical bear named Apino (who, yes, plays a lullaby to heal you), Europa sets out into the haunted mechanical halls of Talos Castle to restore color and bring peace back to a broken world.
It’s an intriguing concept. Instead of the usual “save the world from a vague evil” pitch, this one feels more metaphorical, more melancholic. The castle isn’t just a dungeon, it’s a grieving world stuck in limbo. The storytelling, while light on dialogue, leans into this artistic, almost poetic delivery. You’ll meet NPCs who speak in riddles, some that represent literal emotions, and others who are just trying to create music in a world that’s forgotten how to feel. It’s all very artsy, and when it clicks, it really works. But it never goes deeper than surface-level melancholy, and by the time you hit hour five or six, the emotional beats start to feel hollow, like a song that forgot its second verse.
On the gameplay front, 9 Years of Shadows follows a very familiar metroidvania formula. You explore a large interconnected map, gain abilities that unlock previously inaccessible areas, defeat bosses, and solve light environmental puzzles. At the core of the progression system are four elemental armors: Flame, Water, Earth, and Light. Each one grants Europa resistance to specific environmental hazards—flames, poison, underwater traversal, and so on.
These armors are also beautifully designed, channeling strong Saint Seiya energy. Switching between them mid-platforming to avoid hazards or unlock paths is smooth and feels satisfying at first. There’s even a siren form that lets you glide gracefully through water when using the water armor, which is honestly one of the most enjoyable movement mechanics in the game.
But here’s the problem: aside from their environmental uses, the armors barely affect combat. Yes, each has its own elemental attack, but in practice, they all boil down to the same few slashes. There’s no real incentive to use one over the other unless you have to. Enemies don’t seem particularly weak or strong against certain elements apart from when they have a color-coded shield which allows you to hit them harder with the same element. That lack of mechanical depth becomes more noticeable the deeper you get into the game. For a genre that thrives on rewarding exploration and mastery, 9 Years of Shadows feels surprisingly one-note once you’ve unlocked the basics.
Combat in general is serviceable but unremarkable. Slashing feels weighty enough, and Apino can launch magical blasts, but enemy variety is low, and most of the regular mobs are easily dispatched. The boss battles are a mixed bag. Some are fun and well-telegraphed, while others feel wildly unbalanced, veering from brain-dead simple to “throw your controller at the wall” hard. There’s a strange lack of consistency in difficulty tuning, which makes preparation feel meaningless.
Unfortunately, where 9 Years of Shadows truly stumbles is with its map design. It’s a beautiful map to look at—stylized, color-coded, and packed with rooms and routes, but functionally, it’s lacking in some key quality-of-life features that make or break a metroidvania experience.
You’ll often find yourself wandering in circles, trying to figure out where the game wants you to go next. There are icons that occasionally appear to guide you, but they’re often vague or misleading. And worse, the game doesn’t let you place your own pins or markers, nor does it clearly indicate which doors or paths are blocked due to missing abilities. This becomes a real problem around the mid-game when you’re told to activate several generators scattered across the castle. One of them took me over an hour to find, not because I didn’t have the ability to reach it, but because the path was hidden behind a non-obvious traversal route buried under four screens of backtracking.
That’s when the game stopped being fun for me. I had enjoyed the visuals, the music, the atmosphere and I wanted to keep going. But when progress becomes a guessing game, enjoyment turns into frustration. Getting stuck for 45 minutes in a metroidvania isn’t unheard of, but when it happens repeatedly, due to a lack of intuitive map feedback, that’s a design failure, not a skill issue.
It’s especially painful because the foundation is strong. If the developers had included a few modern touches like custom pins, path tracking, clearer ability gates, this entire exploration loop could’ve been so much more satisfying.
Now, let’s talk about the star of the show: the presentation. 9 Years of Shadows is gorgeous. The spritework is intricate, the environments burst with painterly detail, and the visual contrast between the grayscale world and the vivid color you restore is genuinely moving. Every animation feels handcrafted, from Europa’s graceful dash to the siren-like flow of her swimming form.
Character designs are bold and dramatic, with big shoulder plates, glowing eyes, and a theatrical flair that immediately evokes 80s anime like Saint Seiya. The lighting, particle effects, and even the UI carry a sleek, glowing vibe.
The music is equally noteworthy. The soundtrack leans into lo-fi orchestral ambiance with a hint of melancholic jazz, very reminiscent of Neon White's aurally pleasing soundtrack. It’s atmospheric, understated, and a perfect emotional match for the themes of the game. Apino’s lullaby, in particular, becomes a soothing, almost Pavlovian comfort cue.
At its best, 9 Years of Shadows is a heartfelt metroidvania that speaks through art and music more than mechanics. It’s a visual and emotional treat, especially in the early hours when the world is slowly coming back to life and the mechanics are fresh.
But the further you go, the more the cracks start to show. Combat stagnates, boss fights lose their rhythm, and the exploration becomes a chore due to a frustrating map system. What begins as a graceful journey of healing ends with you slamming into a wall, not because you’re unskilled, but because the game fails to guide you in a meaningful way.
And for a genre that thrives on discovery, pacing, and empowerment, that’s a heavy blow.
If you’re a fan of metroidvanias and are willing to endure some growing pains for the sake of a beautiful presentation and an emotional core, 9 Years of Shadows is worth a shot. But temper your expectations. This is a game that shines brightly for a time… before fading into its own shadows. Thanks for reading!
The game was reviewed on a PS5 via a promo copy provided by PR. 9 Years of Shadows is available on Switch, PS5, Xbox Series and PC.
