There's an iconic moment in Terminator 2: Judgement Day that, very unexpectedly, I was reminded of while playing Pragmata. In it, the T-800 attempts to mimic a human being's smile. It's a disarming scene that humanizes a character who has otherwise been depicted as a highly efficient and cold killing machine.
The same kind of endearing charm permeates the dynamic between Pragmata's two lead characters, Hugh and Diana, and it was disarming in a similar way. After a few hours with the game, I walked away surprisingly invested in the story and characters of a game that, thus far, felt like those things were incidental to the gameplay. My demo was littered with moments that, like the T-800's awkward smile, cast both characters in a new light, giving them depth and nuance that I hadn't previously expected.
Hugh, an engineer of sorts, is trying to figure out what transpired on a lunar research station overrun by hostile AI. Diana is an android who looks, behaves, and, for the most part, thinks like a seven-year-old girl. Since she has limited data, Hugh becomes a window into humankind for her, but she also holds a mirror up to who he is and the experiences that have shaped him in a way that only children can.
At one point in my hands-on, I activated a device that printed a bridge suspended dangerously high up in the Moon's version of New York. Diana, having spotted an adorable cat, lets her curiosity take over and chases it, and before Hugh realizes, she's precariously dangling over the edge of the bridge. Thankfully, Hugh leaps into action and catches her before she falls to her demise.
Although it happens very quickly, the whole exchange goes a long way in laying out the emotional core of Pragmata. Diana is very aware of being a machine, and subsequently doesn't see the value of her own life, and is unable to understand the gravity of what almost happened. She meets Hugh's instinctive worry about her by saying that, if she fell, he could just fix her up.
There's an interesting disparity between the way both characters treat Diana. Her matter-of-fact approach to death clashes with Hugh's perception of her as a child, which, regardless of whether she is human or not, means he's driven by the same instincts that would propel someone to protect any child.
After this incident, Hugh gives Diana a firm but fair talking to and encourages her to consider the impact her actions could have. "You best think on that yourself," he says in a gruff tone. Some time later, I encountered another bridge and, remembering the situation from earlier, Diana energetically indicates that she won't be putting herself in danger again, doing an adorable impression of Hugh's gruff tone from earlier and noting that she had done some thinking on things for herself and grown from it.
The father figure teaching a child how to be a good person setup is hardly breaking new ground, but Pragmata's angle of Hugh teaching Diana to just be a person and Diana showing Hugh what it means to be one is a distinguishing factor, particularly since the game is set in a world where facsimiles of human civilization are being created on the Moon. Hugh hints multiple times that he feels increasingly disconnected from what it means to be human, so it's also a journey of self-discovery for him. And maybe Diana is his lesson that there's some humanity to be found in machines too.
The back-and-forths between Hugh and Diana feel very genuine and so earnest that, for me, it has taken Pragamata from feeling like a throwback to the tonally weird action games that Capcom was doing in the Xbox 360 and PS3-era, to feeling like an experience that could have a strong narrative and compelling character hooks.
The way Pragmata depicts Diana--full of naivety and childlike wonder--is something Capcom clearly has leaned hard into. It's in the big moments like the bridge incident, but also in the small ones, like when she helps Hugh take out a powerful enemy or unlocks the ability to break down a type of material that has been blocking access to certain areas, and Diana eagerly looks for his approval. Sometimes it's a little giggle after he tells her she did a good job; other times it's a demand for a high five.
There were also moments where I was able to gift Diana things that she can keep in a section of the Cradle, a kind of home base that players repeatedly return to for upgrades and weapon-loadout adjustments. One of the items was a child's slide, and she had no idea what it was or how to engage with it but, very quickly, was joyfully going up and down it. In one instance, she noted how it's too small for Hugh, which made her sad because she wanted to go down the slide with him.
While upgrading Hugh with a last-second time-slowing dodge ability, I could hear the pitter-patter of Diana's feet in the Cradle, and I'd watch her casually interacting with things in the environment--the globe I gave her earlier, a TV that she noted was basically a crappy computer. She would also wander over and talk about something that happened on their last adventure together, or ask follow-up questions about something Hugh said previously. The game does a great job of channeling the inherent curiosity that kids have.
Her lack of experience and context for basically everything is used to bring weight to the moments in between the frantic robot-killing. In one area, Hugh and Diana are in a topsy-turvy building, and one of the rooms has a fairly innocuous dining room setup. This led to questions about how many times humans need to eat and what the value of food even is. Hugh reveals that he was an orphan and, for him, dinner wasn't about just eating. Instead, it was an opportunity to be with people who accepted him for who he is, which was nourishment for his soul--eating is for more than just energy, he explained.
It's instances like this that really caught me by surprise. I don't know how the writing will hold up over the entire game, but in my handful of hours, there were a number of poignant moments that hinted at the narrative potential of Pragmata.
Of course, the crux of the game is its combat, which I got to experience a little more of too. For those who haven't been keeping up with the game, Pragmata is a third-person shooter where players control Hugh and use his weapons to take out enemies, but at the same time use Diana to take part in a hacking minigame where the player uses the face buttons of a controller to essentially complete a little digital maze. Connecting the two systems is a mechanic where, using Diana, players can pass through specific nodes to activate additional effects alongside the hacks, as well as bypass enemy shields. An enemy that can eat up a bunch of ammo can quickly be dispatched by hacking it using Diana.
In this hands-on, I was also able to dig a little deeper into the upgrade system, which can unlock new abilities for Hugh or bolster his existing ones. During my playthrough, I made it a priority to get the aforementioned dodge ability. But other upgrades allowed me to improve how much health Hugh heals when using items, increase the number of mod slots he has access to, and beef up the overdrive gauge, which is used to immobilize all enemies in the vicinity via a special attack.
The rest of my time with Pragmata was spent gunning down out-of-control robots of various sizes. One of them, rather terrifyingly, looked like a giant metal baby with an unhinged expression on its face--it reminded me of the Titans from Attack on Titan.
What I enjoy most about Pragmata's gameplay is that there is a fair amount of consideration and strategy that is important to every engagement. In addition to properly using Diana's hacking skills, there's a crowd-management element where every gun at your disposal has a specific purpose and finite ammo. Usually, when you're done with a gun, it's thrown away, and the only way to use it again is to find and collect a new one. That sense of scarcity makes the weapons feel more valuable, so I found myself being far more careful with how liberally I used them and careful about making sure my shots landed. One weapon lobbed explosives that could down enemies and leave them vulnerable. Knowing the giant robots were popping up regularly, I opted to hold onto it for bigger encounters and spend more time and effort carefully thinning out the crowd with just my pistol, which has ammo more readily available.
Things haven't changed much since previous previews: The shooting in Pragmata feels impactful and satisfying, often reminding me of Binary Domain, a criminally underrated sci-fi game also about shooting robots. But this time, it was everything around the gameplay that left an impression. It's very difficult not to immediately get attached to Diana--even if she can be a little precocious. Pragmata already feels like it could be a sleeper hit, but after my latest hands-on, Capcom also looks to be quietly setting up what could be one of the most emotionally impactful games of the year too.
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The same kind of endearing charm permeates the dynamic between Pragmata's two lead characters, Hugh and Diana, and it was disarming in a similar way. After a few hours with the game, I walked away surprisingly invested in the story and characters of a game that, thus far, felt like those things were incidental to the gameplay. My demo was littered with moments that, like the T-800's awkward smile, cast both characters in a new light, giving them depth and nuance that I hadn't previously expected.
Hugh, an engineer of sorts, is trying to figure out what transpired on a lunar research station overrun by hostile AI. Diana is an android who looks, behaves, and, for the most part, thinks like a seven-year-old girl. Since she has limited data, Hugh becomes a window into humankind for her, but she also holds a mirror up to who he is and the experiences that have shaped him in a way that only children can.
At one point in my hands-on, I activated a device that printed a bridge suspended dangerously high up in the Moon's version of New York. Diana, having spotted an adorable cat, lets her curiosity take over and chases it, and before Hugh realizes, she's precariously dangling over the edge of the bridge. Thankfully, Hugh leaps into action and catches her before she falls to her demise.
Although it happens very quickly, the whole exchange goes a long way in laying out the emotional core of Pragmata. Diana is very aware of being a machine, and subsequently doesn't see the value of her own life, and is unable to understand the gravity of what almost happened. She meets Hugh's instinctive worry about her by saying that, if she fell, he could just fix her up.
There's an interesting disparity between the way both characters treat Diana. Her matter-of-fact approach to death clashes with Hugh's perception of her as a child, which, regardless of whether she is human or not, means he's driven by the same instincts that would propel someone to protect any child.
After this incident, Hugh gives Diana a firm but fair talking to and encourages her to consider the impact her actions could have. "You best think on that yourself," he says in a gruff tone. Some time later, I encountered another bridge and, remembering the situation from earlier, Diana energetically indicates that she won't be putting herself in danger again, doing an adorable impression of Hugh's gruff tone from earlier and noting that she had done some thinking on things for herself and grown from it.
The father figure teaching a child how to be a good person setup is hardly breaking new ground, but Pragmata's angle of Hugh teaching Diana to just be a person and Diana showing Hugh what it means to be one is a distinguishing factor, particularly since the game is set in a world where facsimiles of human civilization are being created on the Moon. Hugh hints multiple times that he feels increasingly disconnected from what it means to be human, so it's also a journey of self-discovery for him. And maybe Diana is his lesson that there's some humanity to be found in machines too.
The back-and-forths between Hugh and Diana feel very genuine and so earnest that, for me, it has taken Pragamata from feeling like a throwback to the tonally weird action games that Capcom was doing in the Xbox 360 and PS3-era, to feeling like an experience that could have a strong narrative and compelling character hooks.
The way Pragmata depicts Diana--full of naivety and childlike wonder--is something Capcom clearly has leaned hard into. It's in the big moments like the bridge incident, but also in the small ones, like when she helps Hugh take out a powerful enemy or unlocks the ability to break down a type of material that has been blocking access to certain areas, and Diana eagerly looks for his approval. Sometimes it's a little giggle after he tells her she did a good job; other times it's a demand for a high five.
There were also moments where I was able to gift Diana things that she can keep in a section of the Cradle, a kind of home base that players repeatedly return to for upgrades and weapon-loadout adjustments. One of the items was a child's slide, and she had no idea what it was or how to engage with it but, very quickly, was joyfully going up and down it. In one instance, she noted how it's too small for Hugh, which made her sad because she wanted to go down the slide with him.
While upgrading Hugh with a last-second time-slowing dodge ability, I could hear the pitter-patter of Diana's feet in the Cradle, and I'd watch her casually interacting with things in the environment--the globe I gave her earlier, a TV that she noted was basically a crappy computer. She would also wander over and talk about something that happened on their last adventure together, or ask follow-up questions about something Hugh said previously. The game does a great job of channeling the inherent curiosity that kids have.
Her lack of experience and context for basically everything is used to bring weight to the moments in between the frantic robot-killing. In one area, Hugh and Diana are in a topsy-turvy building, and one of the rooms has a fairly innocuous dining room setup. This led to questions about how many times humans need to eat and what the value of food even is. Hugh reveals that he was an orphan and, for him, dinner wasn't about just eating. Instead, it was an opportunity to be with people who accepted him for who he is, which was nourishment for his soul--eating is for more than just energy, he explained.
It's instances like this that really caught me by surprise. I don't know how the writing will hold up over the entire game, but in my handful of hours, there were a number of poignant moments that hinted at the narrative potential of Pragmata.
Of course, the crux of the game is its combat, which I got to experience a little more of too. For those who haven't been keeping up with the game, Pragmata is a third-person shooter where players control Hugh and use his weapons to take out enemies, but at the same time use Diana to take part in a hacking minigame where the player uses the face buttons of a controller to essentially complete a little digital maze. Connecting the two systems is a mechanic where, using Diana, players can pass through specific nodes to activate additional effects alongside the hacks, as well as bypass enemy shields. An enemy that can eat up a bunch of ammo can quickly be dispatched by hacking it using Diana.
In this hands-on, I was also able to dig a little deeper into the upgrade system, which can unlock new abilities for Hugh or bolster his existing ones. During my playthrough, I made it a priority to get the aforementioned dodge ability. But other upgrades allowed me to improve how much health Hugh heals when using items, increase the number of mod slots he has access to, and beef up the overdrive gauge, which is used to immobilize all enemies in the vicinity via a special attack.
The rest of my time with Pragmata was spent gunning down out-of-control robots of various sizes. One of them, rather terrifyingly, looked like a giant metal baby with an unhinged expression on its face--it reminded me of the Titans from Attack on Titan.
What I enjoy most about Pragmata's gameplay is that there is a fair amount of consideration and strategy that is important to every engagement. In addition to properly using Diana's hacking skills, there's a crowd-management element where every gun at your disposal has a specific purpose and finite ammo. Usually, when you're done with a gun, it's thrown away, and the only way to use it again is to find and collect a new one. That sense of scarcity makes the weapons feel more valuable, so I found myself being far more careful with how liberally I used them and careful about making sure my shots landed. One weapon lobbed explosives that could down enemies and leave them vulnerable. Knowing the giant robots were popping up regularly, I opted to hold onto it for bigger encounters and spend more time and effort carefully thinning out the crowd with just my pistol, which has ammo more readily available.
Things haven't changed much since previous previews: The shooting in Pragmata feels impactful and satisfying, often reminding me of Binary Domain, a criminally underrated sci-fi game also about shooting robots. But this time, it was everything around the gameplay that left an impression. It's very difficult not to immediately get attached to Diana--even if she can be a little precocious. Pragmata already feels like it could be a sleeper hit, but after my latest hands-on, Capcom also looks to be quietly setting up what could be one of the most emotionally impactful games of the year too.
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