Review spaceybirdie 5/5 · Mar 27, 2025
Birds always watch. Haven't you noticed?
NORCO had its teeth in me from the moment I first saw it in the steam shop. The pixel emoticon faces stared at me through the cover art. I opened up the game after the sun set on the first day of Spring.
NORCO is a game, and a real place in the suburbs New Orleans. What began as a …
NORCO had its teeth in me from the moment I first saw it in the steam shop. The pixel emoticon faces stared at me through the cover art. I opened up the game after the sun set on the first day of Spring.
NORCO is a game, and a real place in the suburbs New Orleans. What began as a multimedia doccumentary project about the post-Katrina Louisiana landscape became, over the course of seven years, a dialogue-driven point-and-click narrative adventure game. After seven years of development, the factual doccumentation is all-but gone from the game, leaving behind a profound, reverent feeling of familiarity which touches even the strangest parts of the story.
The story shies away from neither strangeness nor spirituality. The game is ambiguous in its theism, focusing on christian ideology from the mundane to the outlandish. Each element of strangeness, however, is harboured in some point of reality; you drive your bizarre errands for
NORCO's characterisation is the most reverant thing about it. The people we encounter are often absurd and frequently unpleasant, just as people tend to be. They are also desperately lovable, as people tend to be. I found a unique fondness for the detective LeBlanc, who develops from a callous asshole to a warm, comedic figure as the narrative progresses. The writing of this game has a gift for detailing the complicated edges of a character, preventing them from being reduced into a simple, digestible shape by the person playing the game.
So, there it is. NORCO is a game full of uncomfortable truths and unforgivable faith. It is a beautiful tapestry of a difficult, unsightly place to call home. I left my own, just like Kay did, 4 years ago without looking back. When I tell people about it, I say that it was bad. I file the edges down; a bad family and a bad neighbourhood. But in NORCO, I saw pixel sunlight wash over the grass just like it does in my own memories of home. Maybe someday, I will find a way to tell people I miss it.


