We all have our favourite creators, be they authors, filmmakers, game directors, whose work we show up for regardless of the subject matter. Ragnar Tørnquist is, for me, one such creator: this article isn’t about the Dreamfall saga, which started an entire quarter century ago (he winced arthritically) with The Longest Journey, but I would urge anyone to seek it out, and dare them not to fall in love with the worlds he deftly conjures.
The Dreamfall saga concluded a decade ago, but you could call Dustborn a spiritual sequel. It’s a big ol’ road trip across a near-future “Divided States”, in which a bunch of super-powered misfits are high-tailing it from Pacifica (California) to Nova Scotia (Nova Scotia) in a big silver bus while undercover as a touring punk band. Like his previous works, there is a blending of science-fiction and fantasy here, this time combining cyberpunk tech with mystic shamanism in a world half inspired by Mad Max, half inspired by Tumblr culture (both a type of wasteland involving leather trousers).
Yes, Dustborn is the sort of game that tells you each character’s pronouns. It’s probably the sort of game that would prefer you ask its consent before booting it up. It’s all very Modern, and though I don’t doubt its sincerity it comes off as inauthentic. I can’t figure out if it’s meant to appeal directly to the genderfluid and the neurodivergent, or if it’s more designed to annoy the exact type of person who thinks pronouns are a threat to civilization while being blithely unconcerned by the rise of fascism or climate change – both of which are strong themes in Dustborn. Before I knew of Ragnar Tørnquist’s involvement, I commented to my wife that the dialogue feels like Gen X writing for Gen Z. There’s a sort of… “how do you do fellow They/Thems” vibe that undermines it all. And though he obviously isn’t the game’s sole writer, it can’t escape one’s notice that he is 53. The penny droppeth.
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