Demonschool review

Inside me there are two wolves—Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Persona—so it's hard for me to resist howling when ragtag bands of '90s high schoolers kick demon tail in between pop quizzes and making out with each other. The way Demonschool weaves old-school apocalyptic vibes with tactics-based combat brought out the beast. I devoured it in a matter of days, and it pulled off something no other RPG has managed before: make me fall in love with the ways of the isometric grid.

Faye is very much your typical spunky, slightly boisterous heroine (hi that's me), a self-proclaimed demon hunter on her way to enroll in a school on the mysterious Hemsk Island (god I wish that was me). Why? Because the apocalypse is coming, of course, and the island promises to be a verifiable hub of demon activity. And I mean, hey, she's right.

Demonschool operates on an explore-talk-fight loop: tackling the main story advances the day from morning, evening, and then to night, usually with a battle separating each segment. As the days and weeks advance, so do the island's inhabitants and activities. There's almost always a new NPC to talk to, or a party member begging to be taken to karaoke to advance their friendship (aka future makeout prospect) meter.

Exploring the island between each main quest does a ton for building the overarching narrative, as conversations with the same islanders sprinkle in juicy lore; a man who remembers an ever-decreasing number of his children, an old woman claiming every man to be her husband, a shrine that gets chattier the more I visit it. Their frequently fresh dialogue had me running to every corner to make sure I was catching all of it.

It's worth noting that there's a lotta text (and no voice acting) and a distinct lack of any text log. This was annoying when I slipped into mindlessly advancing through dialogue with my eyes glazed over (listen, we've all been there) only to realise I hadn't actually absorbed any of it and had no way to go back and see what had been said.

But when my eyes were working, it's this wonderful flavour text that really boosts Demonschool's story beyond a setup that doesn't do much new. Apocalypse; demons; As Above, So Below; you know the drill. But through its witty dialogue (including hits that had me giggling such as "Faye? More like Gaye." It's fine, the girl I kissed said this) and incredibly likeable cast of characters, I didn't particularly mind.

Go back to hell

And Demonschool boasts a huge roster. A total of 15 playable demon hunters, in fact, and a peppering of recurring side characters like gangster Antoni who I had a massive sweet spot for by the time I rolled credits. Not all hunters shine equally, an unfortunate consequence of such a vast ensemble. Dog lover Mercy, for example, is one of the earliest introductions to the gang, but it felt like Necrosoft wasn't entirely sure what to do with her narratively or mechanically.

On the flipside, I loved the likes of slightly downtrodden goth (though don't let her know I called her that) Namako and the thick-skulled Destin, the first two party members to join Faye. Later additions like sassy rival Kestrel and certifiable muscle mommy Ti prove that the writing and spritework can make these characters shine even without all that much screen time—culling the cast a little would have left their personalities and the story stronger as a whole.

Having a whole heap of hunters to pluck from does make Demonschool's battles ripe for experimentation, though, and there is basically not a thing that I do not love about this game's tactics system. Even before getting into the nitty-gritty of battling, the way the world warps and zips away into the grid-based domain is downright gorgeous, with Necrosoft sprinkling in 3D cutscenes that stand out against the rest of the game's equally stunning 2D artstyle.

Faye can bring up to three pals with her, with the party sharing a pool of action points. The more a character is used, the more AP gets eaten up. It's a delicate balancing act to ensure everybody is playing their part in order to squeeze as much juice out of a turn as possible.

Party members fall roughly into four categories: standard damage-dealing brawlers, phasers who can pass through lines of enemies and come out on the other side, healers to keep everyone topped up, and folks with a unique spin like Henk, who can literally drop school desks on demons. I like Henk.

The real beauty of Demonschool's battle system is the way it's divided up into the planning and action phase. The former almost feels like I'm cheating at chess, manoeuvring step-by-step to see the consequences of my actions before they happen. I can undo moves, shuffling and sidestepping until I've kicked and punched as much demon scum as I can. Once I've strategised to my liking I can hit the button and watch the entire thing play out at once, like winding up a toy car and then letting it rip along the laminate.

Getting to watch each turn is like a miniature performance—I never got tired of it. Cutting through entire groups of demons in just a handful of actions and watching poison puddles light up the screen, explosions vaporise demons in seas of red pixelated mist, felt like slotting in the final piece of a 1,000 piece puzzle every time.

That's essentially what Demonschool's battles are: a series of intricate puzzles. I can make things a little bit easier by dabbling with a huge number of abilities—techniques that can do things like stun demons, counter their attacks, or even heal up off status effects like fire that would otherwise see my HP plummet.

Unlocking more meant I was continuously evolving the way I thought about each encounter. I whacked an ability onto Kestrel—traditionally a phaser—that swapped out her phasing abilities for an X-shaped attack that flew out from the target, and stuck an attack boost on her. She melted grouped up demons in a way no straight line or diagonal attack ever could. It was awesome.

My childlike glee from trying to make as many things explode as possible was somewhat dampened by stability issues that only reared their ugly head with increasing frequency as I ventured closer to the end. Roughly two-thirds of my 55-hour playthrough was done on my Steam Deck, but I eventually had to stream the game to it from my PC instead. Despite Demonschool's Verified status, the handheld does not take too kindly to multiple VFX happening on screen at once, causing the game to lock up entirely. I would also occasionally get booted back to the title screen with no warning—something that happened on both desktop and Steam Deck—which proved to be a bit of a momentum killer several times.

Demonschool also suffered from some wonkily-threaded narrative beats: I had both a future party member and plot point spoiled for me via two different friendship quests, which were available to me before their relevant beats had been revealed to me in the main story. The game went from feeling tightly polished to sloppy after those experiences, and I'd be lying if I said they didn't dampen the good vibes I'd been cruising with for the first 20 hours or so. Paired with some general visual bugs and systems that felt a little obtuse at times—I would have loved some more in-depth tutorials for mechanics like abilities and relationships—I could feel myself getting jostled out of the whole experience, after Faye and the group had done such a good job of pulling me in.

That is, ultimately, stuff that can be patched, in a way that the core of a great strategy RPG—combat with that "just one more turn" allure, characters that I want to talk to forever—probably can't. If it wasn't obvious enough, Demonschool aces the latter. I know for certain I'll be dreaming in isometric planes for the foreseeable future.