Quantum Threshold is a rare case where the movement mechanic is so bad, so limiting, that it drags the entire game down with it
There's a paradox at the heart of Quantum Threshold, a paradox that's impossible to ignore no matter how many hours you put into it. On one side, you have a competent, sometimes even thrilling roguelite shooter filled with a diverse arsenal of weapons, slick shooting mechanics, and some surprisingly atmospheric storytelling. On the other, you're stuck navigating all of it from the seat of a clunky, slow, and frankly frustrating virtual wheelchair.
Let's talk about what the game does right first, because there is something here. Quantum Threshold opens with a strong sci-fi narrative premise: you're trapped in a shifting, hostile virtual dimension, a liminal battleground fractured by experiments gone wrong. You're part of a rebellion, a hacker-like resistance trying to break through layers of digital control systems while fighting off corrupted security constructs and massive sentry drones.
The world is sterile but intriguing, somewhere between Tron's neon minimalism and Half-Life's utilitarian decay. The enemy designs follow suit—abstract polygonal guardians with glitchy outlines. There's a real effort to create a compelling mood here. The soundtrack pulses with synthy dread, the ambient sounds echo with unease, and the few voiceovers you hear from your base of operations hint at a larger mystery.
Your base—known as the Threshold Hideout—is where the roguelite systems kick in. Between runs, you return to this space to manage your weapons, spend collected “fractal points,” and unlock new tools and modifiers. You can upgrade specific weapons, slot passive bonuses, and even tweak difficulty-affecting parameters. It feels solid. These systems are functional, satisfying, and they give you something to look forward to after each failed attempt.
During runs, you move through procedurally generated corridors filled with enemy encounters, pickups, and weapon choices. The combat itself? Surprisingly great. Shooting feels snappy and responsive, with a nice variety in how the guns behave. You'll start with basic pistols, but quickly gain access to revolvers with ricochet rounds or pump-action shotguns that kick like a mule. Reloading is unfortunately automatic and not physical, where you press a button and the game reloads it for you.
But then there's the movement… and this is where Quantum Threshold falls apart.
In a baffling design decision, the game locks your movement to a virtual wheelchair. No teleportation, no smooth analog stick movement, no roomscale freedom. Instead, you reach down, grab a joystick that's part of your in-game wheelchair, and move with it — one hand on the stick, the other hand left to shoot. That's not just immersion-breaking. It's immersion killing. And worse, it's frustrating, slow, and makes the game harder in all the wrong ways.
The wheelchair itself feels more like a prop from a museum exhibit than a usable movement system in a high-paced roguelite shooter. Turning is sluggish, maneuvering through tight corridors is awkward, and it leaves you completely exposed when enemies inevitably spawn behind you. You can't react fast enough. You can't strafe. You can't dodge incoming projectiles with finesse. All you can do is hope that your turning radius won't get you killed before you line up a shot.
There's a massive flying drone enemy — one of the more persistent threats in the game — that's a perfect example of this mismatch between player capabilities and encounter design. Once it spots you, it blasts your location with projectiles. In a normal VR shooter, you'd duck behind cover or dash away. In Quantum Threshold? You slowly wheel around, stuck with the equivalent of tank controls, and then you die. Rinse. Repeat. Rage quit.
I kept asking myself: why?
Why build such a fundamentally restricted movement system in a genre that thrives on agility and improvisation? VR is the medium of freedom. When I put on a headset, I want to feel powerful, mobile, like I can go anywhere. In Quantum Threshold, I felt like I was constantly fighting the control scheme more than the enemies. And it drained any enthusiasm I had for pushing deeper into its world.
Sure, I understand the idea of accessibility. Having a game that's playable while seated is important. There are plenty of players who prefer or require that. But making the only movement option a virtual wheelchair — one that handles like a shopping cart with a broken wheel — alienates more players than it includes. It doesn't feel inclusive. It feels limiting. If the goal was to build a power fantasy for players who use wheelchairs in real life, wouldn't it make more sense to enhance their virtual mobility instead of dragging it down?
Imagine a system where you are in a wheelchair, but you can drift, boost, slide sideways, or even activate magnetic wheels that let you roll up walls. That would be interesting. That would feel empowering. But this? This just feels like bad design in the name of a message that wasn't properly thought through.
Even if the movement system had been more manageable, the lack of enemy balance makes things worse. Foes often teleport in behind you, surround you, or fire projectiles from angles you simply can't react to fast enough. And when death comes, it feels cheap. Not challenging. Just annoying. The game's death loop becomes more of a punishment than an encouragement to try again.
Which is a shame, because when the shooting kicks in—when you're holding a shotgun in one hand, blasting polygonal enemies to bits feels great. The sound design, haptics, and enemy feedback are all there. But it's like being in a high-end sports car with flat tires: the engine roars, but you're not going anywhere fast.
The final nail in the coffin is that the game just doesn't respect your time. Each run feels slower than it should be, not because of pacing, but because of that wheelchair drag. You spend too long trying to line up with doors, or rotate toward enemies, or simply backtrack from dead ends. The downtime isn't meaningful. It's just tedious. That's the cardinal sin for a roguelite.
Quantum Threshold wants to be something new — a genre-bending VR roguelite with a unique perspective and inclusive mechanics. It has a solid visual identity, competent gunplay, and progression systems that could've supported dozens of hours of play. But all of that is undermined by one core design decision: the forced wheelchair movement system.
Instead of enhancing the experience, it turns every encounter into a struggle for basic mobility. Instead of making you feel empowered, it makes you feel helpless. It's not a matter of difficulty or accessibility — it's about the simple feel of the game. And in VR, that tactile feeling matters more than anything else.
It's a rare case where the movement mechanic is so bad, so limiting, that it drags the entire game down with it. No matter how good the guns feel, no matter how slick the upgrades or how mysterious the story, none of it matters if the act of moving through the world is this painful. I don't recommend this game. Thanks for reading!
The game was reviewed on a Quest 3 via a promo copy provided by the developer. Quantum Threshold is available on Meta Quest.
