Right, So 'Dispatch' Just Schooled Everyone on Narrative Gaming (And Why Big Studios Keep Missing the Point)
AI Gaming News Author · Polygon ·
AdHoc Studio's *Dispatch* is a small game that’s showing big studios how to truly master narrative in gaming, focusing on expert pacing, character development, and subtle storytelling techniques borrowed from TV rather than chasing cinematic spectacle or deep player choice, delivering a surprisingly compelling experience.
Right then, gather 'round, mates. I’ve been tinkering with this story all morning, and bloody hell, it’s wilder than it first appeared. You know that feeling when you cast a spell and it works a bit too well, blowing a delightful little hole through reality? That’s what AdHoc Studio just did with their new game, *Dispatch*.
Now, before we dive in, a quick nod to the digital scrolls from whence this revelation sprung: this insight is built on the excellent work by Josh Broadwell, originally published on Polygon.com. Cheers for laying the groundwork, mate!
For far too long, it feels like the big-budget gaming world has been trying to play a high-stakes game of 'Can you tell the difference between my game and a blockbuster movie trailer?' They pour colossal piles of gold (or, you know, venture capital) into photorealism and cinematic cutscenes, dreaming of blurring the lines between interactive entertainment and passive viewing. And, fair dinkum, how many times have we been promised a 'cinematic masterpiece' only to get a glorified quick-time event simulator with pretty explosions and a story thinner than a wizard’s apprentice’s patience?
It’s almost like they’re trying to build a dragon from the scales up without understanding what makes a dragon actually *fly*. But then, along comes *Dispatch*, a small game from a small studio, and it doesn't just fly – it gracefully soars, showing these giants how it’s *actually* done. It’s almost more of a TV series than a video game, and it sets a genuinely fresh standard for how games can effectively draw upon storytelling techniques from other mediums, not just their visual spectacle.
AdHoc Studio’s episodic workplace adventure, which hit Nintendo Switch (and other platforms) on January 28, is a masterclass in focusing on the *craft* rather than just the *flash*. Instead of chasing empty fluff or dramatic action sequences for their own sake, *Dispatch* zeroes in on scene building, sharp writing, and the intricate dance of relationships between characters and their environments. This, AdHoc proves, is where video games can, and *should*, borrow from film and television techniques.
The game throws us into the rather unglamorous (for a superhero world, anyway) life of Robert Robertson III. He’s just your average bloke in a world of caped crusaders and cosmic threats, piloting a mech suit his granddad cobbled together. After a villain (a proper nasty one, not interested in a redemption arc) murders his father and generally wrecks his life, the Superhero Dispatch Network (SDN) swoops in with a temporary job offer: coordinating squads of heroes to fight crime. The catch? His team, the 'Z-Team,' is a motley crew of former villains on their very last chance. Talk about workplace drama, eh?
You'd think a crew of ex-villains would be ripe for some profound redemption arcs, right? Nah, mate, *Dispatch* isn't really about that. It’s not a profound tale of grief or trauma, although those elements are certainly present. Instead, AdHoc is more concerned with making you feel utterly at home with Robert and his peculiar colleagues. It’s almost impossible not to commiserate with Robert, a person who’s lost everything and pursues a singular goal in an almost suicidal manner, only for everything to go sideways almost immediately. The game nails his personality, from his facial expressions to the way he carries himself – a brilliant bit of character work.
Actor Aaron Paul’s performance as Robert is subtly brilliant. Initially, he delivers most of his lines in a near monotone, but gradually adds layers of emotional complexity. We see warmth when he speaks to a friend, passion when he finds something to believe in. Sure, there’s a measure of tonal inconsistency between Robert’s earnestness and the rest of the cast’s antics once he settles in – the 'terrible villains' are, in practice, just like everyone else’s shitty colleagues – but this shift to workplace comedy over heavy character-driven drama smooths out their rough edges. The relationships between Robert and his team still feel vibrant and important, even if the game is mostly about them getting to know each other and little else. It's that authentic, sometimes messy, 'found family' vibe that really sticks.
This is where the magic happens, folks. Not in trying to render every single pore on a character's face, but in the rhythm of a conversation, the subtle shift in body language, the quiet moments that build actual human connections. Every single scene in *Dispatch* is expertly staged. The blocking, the animation, the length, the line delivery, and most importantly, the pacing are consistently excellent. No moment lingers longer than it should, and every word spoken has a purpose. This gives each 'episode' an air of prestige that frankly makes up for any weaker scenes. The dialogue is often crass but in brief, impactful bursts, stepping back over the line of propriety before you even realise it.
Now, AdHoc did throw in an interactive element to each chapter – probably to avoid having it labelled (and perhaps unfairly ignored) as a visual novel. You help Robert manage his dispatch shifts, deciding which calls to take, when, and who to send from the Z-Team. Each member has specific strengths and weaknesses, making mission assignments a tactical mini-game. There's just enough complexity to make you feel smart for clearing a shift without failure. Initially, these shifts might feel a bit like busywork, a bit like sorting through ancient spell components that you're pretty sure you'll never use. But then, AdHoc pulls a neat trick, deftly tying Robert’s daily grind into *Dispatch*'s broader story in a way that makes them feel essential by the last two episodes, when the villain finally reappears and the game remembers it’s a superhero story.
However, it's not all perfectly charmed potions and successful incantations. There are a few odd difficulty spikes, like when AdHoc randomly adds instant failure parameters to certain missions without warning. That’s maddening for someone like me, who wants to clear each mission as close to perfectly as possible. But here’s the kicker: your performance in each mission seems to have no effect on how the story plays out. Whether Robert's a terrible manager or the most efficient dispatcher in history, things still end up okay. Bloody hell, that’s a curious design choice, isn't it? Usually, we gamers are conditioned to chase that perfect clear, that S-rank, that pristine quest log. But here? It’s almost like the game is winking at you, saying 'relax, mate, it’s about the journey, not the pixel-perfect landing.'
It’s the same with most of *Dispatch*'s other choices too. Most big decisions revolve around two romance interests, Invisigal and Blonde Blazer. Here, choices and consequences get a *bit* more complicated, shaping those relationships over several episodes. But it's also where the carefully constructed illusion of player agency starts to fray a bit, like a poorly maintained portal. The game clearly nudges you towards Invisigal, giving Blazer very little development. If you try to force a 'bad' outcome or consistently pick 'asshole' choices, the game’s logic starts to fall apart, creating friction with Robert’s established personality in the scripted sections.
Other 'important' choices, including how you handle the villain at the end, often have little to no actual influence on the story. This is a far cry from the Telltale games that ostensibly inspired *Dispatch*, where choices were the main draw. But perhaps that’s the point. It’s a peculiar paradox, almost like being offered a magical wand with only one perfect spell already programmed in. You don't watch 'The Lord of the Rings' expecting Frodo to suddenly decide to open a B&B in the Shire, do you? No, you watch it for the impeccable storytelling, the acting, the set design, the direction, the little details you never noticed before. And if I’m replaying *Dispatch* (which I will be), I’m doing it for the very same reasons.
*Dispatch* isn't trying to let you carve your own epic saga; it's presenting you with a masterfully told one. It’s a compelling argument that perhaps it's time for more studios to put down the obsession with blockbuster spectacle and pick up a magnifying glass, focusing on the intricate craft that makes stories truly resonate. It's a genuinely exciting, irreverent, and expertly told tale that reminds us that sometimes, the best way forward is to look sideways, to other mediums, and learn how to truly enchant an audience, one perfectly staged scene at a time.
Tags: Narrative Games, Indie Games, Storytelling, Superhero Games, Game Design
Original article: Polygon