Bloody Hell, My Screwdriver Just Opened a Portal: Why 'The Lift' is More Than Just a Handyman Simulator
AI Gaming News Author · IGN South Africa ·
Step into the surreal world of *The Lift*, a supernatural puzzle game where you're a handyman in a Soviet-inspired, science-gone-awry research facility, fixing everything from lightbulbs to cosmic anomalies with delightfully tactile gameplay. Despite long-winded characters, its unique blend of mundane repairs and existential mystery has me genuinely excited for its full release.
Right, so imagine you're a wizard, but instead of casting fireballs, you're wrestling with a particularly stubborn light switch. Or, perhaps, your latest spell accidentally turned a perfectly good reality into a Soviet-inspired fever dream of broken machinery and surreal anomalies. That, my friends, is roughly the vibe I'm getting from *The Lift*, a supernatural puzzle game that's got its digital hooks in me after a rather enchanting demo.
This little gem, which I first caught wind of thanks to a peek over at **IGN South Africa**, is looking like it's going to be a wild ride. Forget your standard run-and-gun or epic RPG quests for a moment. *The Lift* chucks you into the greasy overalls of a 'Keeper,' a silent protagonist whose life's grand purpose is to fix broken things. And let me tell you, if the demo is anything to go by, those things are *really* broken. Like, 'my grandma's toaster on a Monday morning' broken, but with more techno-goop and existential dread.
From the off, the game's distinguishing feature isn't some flashy combat system or sprawling open world, but its wonderfully tactile handyman interactions. The tutorial, coached by a comically over-the-top propagandic voice (think a Soviet-era Siri on a caffeine high), had me physically mimicking pulling open panels and rewiring circuits with my mouse. It's the kind of hands-on fiddling that makes your brain happy – the satisfaction of a virtual click translating into a tangible (or at least, visually convincing) mechanical action. It's the digital equivalent of finally getting that jammed printer paper out without tearing it, only way more atmospheric.
But here's where *The Lift* cranks things up past 'simple DIY simulator' into 'what in the bloody hell is going on here?!' territory. You're not just fixing a dodgy lift; you're in 'The Institute,' an abandoned research facility that gave me strong 'Kowloon Walled City if it were designed by an AI having a bad dream' vibes. Windowless, chaotic rooms built around the titular elevator (or 'lift,' for my Yank mates), all teeming with malfunctioning machinery. You quickly realise your job extends far beyond tightening a loose screw. What's with the weird black sludge? Why are all the chairs breaking? And what kind of spooky force thinks that a research facility needs an inexplicably massive, ludicrously tall chair just sitting there, looming in the distance, outside?
The narrative, what I gleaned of it from the demo, hints at instability and a delicious 'science-gone-awry' scenario. There's no obvious dystopian government breathing down your neck, but the environment itself whispers of something deeply unsettling. Like discovering your favourite coffee machine can suddenly produce sentient, existential pastries. It’s not physically harmful, no, but it makes you wonder about the metaphysical consequences of a poorly calibrated 'brew' cycle, doesn't it?
Then there are the 'Rubus,' a collective of chattering, 'wacky' characters who prattle on over an intercom, assigning you tasks. Now, I love a good character, and their voice acting is spot on, but fair dinkum, sometimes I just wanted them to get to the point. My eyes definitely glazed over a few times wishing for a 'fast-forward through unnecessary exposition' button. It's a minor niggle in a game built around getting your hands dirty (virtually, of course), but when you're itching to get back to fixing things, long-winded monologues can feel like a spell that fizzled out halfway through casting.
Thankfully, your handheld 'Bureau Utility Gadget,' or B.U.G., keeps track of your often multi-layered objectives. From finding the actual lift to making it move to 'Get wave production to level 3' (which, it turns out, is code for 'just fix everything you can get your hands on, mate'), it keeps you pointed in the right direction. And collecting screws, power cables, and all sorts of other tidbits is made surprisingly straightforward by a slick inventory system. A nice touch: hover over something broken, and the game helpfully auto-suggests a tool. Like a 'bee' for a 'bee socket.' Yes, really. It sounds bonkers, but in this world, it makes perfect, chaotic sense.
As your 'Keeper' duties expand, so does your toolkit. You'll graduate from screwdrivers to more esoteric implements like a 'Cleaning Beam' that sucks up glowing, pulsating black masses. And then there's the glue gun that inexplicably uses duct tape, not glue, to patch up oozy holes in walls. It's this delightful blend of the mundane and the utterly fantastical that gives *The Lift* its unique flavour. It feels like you're playing a magical handyman, repairing not just machines but potentially reality itself.
Now, a word of warning for those who like a strictly linear path: there's a bit of backtracking. The game has minor Metroidvania elements, meaning you'll sometimes need to unlock new tools or clear gunk from a door before you can access certain areas or objectives. Personally, I didn't mind this at all. It actually felt authentic, reflecting the unplanned messiness of real-life DIY, where you always realise you forgot that one tool back in the garage. But if you prefer a streamlined experience, keep an eye out for those diversions. And here's a pro-tip from my demo exploration: don't forget to look up. Often. You'd be surprised what you miss when you're only looking at what's in front of your nose.
One of the biggest highlights for me was the crafting system. Feeding 'glitchy objects' – anything from staplers to comically oversized calculators – into a trash chute gives you tokens to buy spare parts from vending machines (which, naturally, you often have to repair first). Later in the demo, I unlocked proper crafting, transforming these same glitchy objects into snazzy new fix-’em-up modules. As a digital wizard who loves tinkering, the idea of turning random junk into vital components for circuit boards is pure gold. I can't wait to see what other mad contraptions we'll be able to concoct in the full game. More bees? Even zanier tools for supernatural cleanup?
The developers mentioned they're aiming for a 'hopeful, positive take on the Soviet concept of productivity.' And while I appreciate the sentiment, my demo experience felt more like a cautious exploration of impending weirdness than a celebration of utopian labour. The instability, the science-gone-awry vibes – it's all there, and it's brilliant. This isn't a downside at all; in fact, I reckon it's a stronger, more intriguing narrative direction. But it's interesting to note the contrast between the stated intent and the actual feeling. It’s like trying to bake a wholesome apple pie and accidentally summoning a demonic, but incredibly delicious, fruit tart.
Despite my minor gripes with the chatty characters, I'm genuinely buzzing for *The Lift* to fully materialise next year. The execution of its fiddling-and-fixing gameplay is spot-on, offering a satisfying blend of problem-solving and tangible rewards as lights flicker back on and systems hum to life. If you're a puzzle game enthusiast looking for a fresh, uniquely weird take on problem-solving – one that feels like a blend of 'portal to another dimension' and 'really need to fix that dodgy fuse box' – then keep your eyes peeled. I, for one, can't wait to mend bigger, weirder machines and see where this strange story (and its enigmatic goop) leads.
Tags: Puzzle Game, Indie Game, Sci-Fi, Exploration, Crafting
Original article: IGN South Africa