Shadow Labyrinth Is A Brooding Memorial of Pac-Man (and Namco’s) Bygone Glory

By Madeline Blondeau | July 25, 2025 | 12:57pm

Video Games Features shadow labyrinth

Shadow Labyrinth Is A Brooding Memorial of Pac-Man (and Namco’s) Bygone Glory

Pac-Man is more foundational to my gaming experience than Mario or Sonic.

Several of my formative childhood memories revolve around Namco’s spherical dot-muncher. The first time I went to an arcade with my uncle and played the Ms. Pac-Man/Galaga dual cab. A Namco-branded arcade in the Sunset Station casino I went to after movies. Afternoons stuck in Pac-Man World 2 with my mom, trading off the controller. And of course Namco Museum Vol. 3 for the PlayStation on my grandmother’s console. I’d spend hours just wandering around the virtual museum, let alone the time I lost to Ms. Pac-Man and Tower of Druaga.

Now those arcades are closed. The first cabinet I played on, liquidated to a new owner. My grandmother passed away at the top of summer. Who knows where a PlayStation she owned 25 years ago is—or if she remembered it when they pulled the plug?

Shadow Labyrinth, in a way, feels like a memorial service for those lost places and things. It’s a downtrodden reinterpretation of Namco’s ample stable of ‘80s IPs, with a tone that lies somewhere between Odin Sphere and Nier Automata, its distinct whimsy offset by a consistent palpable dread and malaise experienced by the cast. Atmospheric tracks from Splatterhouse composer Katsuro Tajima build on the bleak visual aesthetics, while Go Tanaka (writer on Tales of Graces f) imbues each character with a nebulous and voracious longing that the player must overcome to progress.

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This game’s version of Pac-Man—the Haro-esque PUCK—eats living creatures and harvests their innards to become stronger. The player, in fact, is a product of the robot’s ‘reproductive’ functions. PUCK informs the unnamed player-character that they had no body when they arrived into their world, only a soul. Players must contend with the fact that they are—essentially—a covered-up faceless abomination cobbled together from whatever stray bits a robot could find. If there’s ever been a case for it/it’s pronouns, they would certainly apply to this player character. This is a whole other conversation, but the fluidity and ambiguity of gender in Shadow Labyrinth is one of its most arresting aspects—and it’s all rooted in this grim contextualization of Namco lore.

Other included properties don’t fare much better. Another companion robot—who looks a bit like the ship from Galaga—winds up in an abusive relationship with a jailer. The Bell from Pac-Man is anthropomorphized as a scantily clad young woman, who attacks the player in Andor Genesis armor from Xevious. (‘Pac-Man chasing the Bell’ actually becomes a clever bit of symbolism later on!) Some of the very same creatures seen in the 2014 Adam Sandler vehicle, Pixels, are presented in a downright eldritch light, such as the Pooka and the Galaga creatures.

Perhaps most distressing on a plot level are the Bosconians. The nomadic tribe is a fallen race living in the burnt-out ruins beneath an intergalactic WMD—the large black tower seen in the game’s promotional art. Named for the underappreciated but influential 1981 shmup, the displaced tribe’s queen has waited for a moment to strike back at her oppressors and reclaim the glory of her people’s name. It’s something out of a grimmer Hyperdimension Neptunia—a major plot point and character motivation that, itself, is a reference to its real-world equivalent.

In a metatextual sense, the player here is a mechanism for Pac-Man to resurrect the fallen memories of his 1980s contemporaries. Whether friend or foe, the player is an avatar to discover different aspects of the ‘80s arcade experience in a way beyond rote ROM lists or re-releases. It allows the player to, say, encounter Jennifer from Splatterhouse as a hulking beast with Rick mutated onto her arm. Instead of explaining to the player why this matters, it opens up questions to those unfamiliar. “Who’s Jen?” “What’s that mask?” And so on. In that sense, there’s a kinship with those virtual museums in the early PlayStation arcade compilations.

This method of storytelling is also akin to another beloved member of the Bandai Namco roster: Dark Souls. Players are left to wonder versus being explained to, which creates an atmosphere of organic discovery versus rote explanation. That applies to the gameplay, as well, which does not handhold and leaves full autonomy to the player. Bosses can be missed. Players can dodge, die, and repeat to the semi-ultimate area with only one health upgrade. In the week of release, /r/MetroidVania and YouTube comments alike are abuzz about different aspects of the game that they have yet to uncover. These comments house genuine curiosity, confusion, and half-clarity.

These are the moments I live for in interactive entertainment. By virtue of obfuscation, Shadow Labyrinth is a more enticing, sensual experience for mechanics-focused players than perhaps any title from a major publisher this year. It is invested not in brain candy, but in hard work and determination to answer questions posed by the player themselves and a prospective community.

That approach, itself, shows a spiritual kinship with the Namco(t) games of old. When these games debuted, a player could not reach into their pocket and find out how to master it with a device. The idea of watching somebody play the game at home and explain it to you in real time was a far-off fantasy. If an average person wanted to understand Xevious or Dig Dug, they simply had to play it. Pay their weight in quarters until a baseline of comprehension was reached. Then, the real test: leaderboard supremacy and playground bragging rights.

Shadow Labyrinth may not have a leaderboard, but it rewards mastery with ease of progression and speed. From mastering dodge windows to the delicate art of a Scrooge McDuck bounce off enemy noggins, the joy of discovery is rooted in how many ways the player can interface with the game itself. The map is worth going over with a fine tooth comb once abilities like air dash and double jump are unlocked. From the opening screens on, Shadow Labyrinth is chockful of secrets.

There’s a comparison to be made to the Koji Igarashi Castlevania entries, yes, but perhaps a more apt one is an earlier game by director Tomoaki Fukui: Kirby and the Amazing Mirror. This unsung entry in the platformer series saw players navigate a sprawling map with minimal direction and an emphasis on the mastery of certain abilities. Sound familiar? It’s less of an RPG, and much more of a test of skill, patience, and curiosity than those Konami games. They’re different beasts altogether, though both—in a sense—have their roots in Pac-Man. Wander around a maze, avoid enemies if you can’t fight them, and collect objects to proceed.

In a way? We haven’t actually come that far since Pac-Man.

In a turbulent time for the industry, Shadow Labyrinth shows the virtue of looking back to the classics—both well-known and underloved—for inspiration. Games of the ‘80s often inspired the word-of-mouth fervor that they did, in part, for their difficulty and mystique. They were dedicated works of bespoke coding art by developers that wanted players to accomplish a certain goal beyond simply purchasing high-end consumer products.

Contemporary developers can harness that same mystery and challenge, then prolong it for a full-priced retail game. Breath of the Wild did this, to some extent, when it went back to the open-ended 1986 original for inspiration to fantastic effect. Games like this, and like Dark Souls, and—yes—like Shadow Labyrinth are not necessarily “hard”—they’re demanding. They demand focus, patience, and curiosity. These used to be the baseline for investment in the medium. While going back to that as a rule is short-sighted and limiting for the growth of the medium, there needs to be room and understanding for developers (and players) who still value these things in full-priced retail gaming, and not just the “indie” space.

This is why Shadow Labyrinth continues to resonate with me—because it respects my memories of Namco, and doesn’t try to sand away the rough parts. Frustration, failure, and all the ambiguous shades between at learning these games. The sense of loss at the passage of time, and how many arcades, cabinets, and lives it’s consumed. And above all, how difficult it has been to watch the culture once consumed by ‘Pac-Man Fever’ to, itself, consume Pac-Man and consign him to the ‘80s dustbin.

Shadow Labyrinth gives Pac-fans and enthusiasts for these classic titles alike a chance to understand and interpret old favorites in a new light. At the same time, it introduces a younger audience to a series of vexing and veiled mysteries just waiting to be uncovered. But unlike their grandparents, they won’t need to bust open their piggy bank: they just need to have the same steely resolve for “one more level.”

Madeline Blondeau has been writing about games since 2010. She’s written for Paste, Anime Herald, Anime News Network, CGM, and Lock-On, among others. In addition, she has written, hosted, and recorded film criticism podcast Cinema Cauldron. Her published fiction debut is due out between 2026 and 2027. You can support her work on Patreon, and find her on BlueSky @mads.haus.