Styx is his name — the entertaining antihero of Styx: Shards of Darkness. He’s a cynical green goblin stranded in the middle of a stiff, high-fantasy world. You know the kind: shiny, magical, and self-important, populated by airships, arrogant elves, big-nosed dwarves, and proud humans. Styx hates them all.
When he’s not out thieving, he retreats to his lair overlooking his hunting grounds: a gloomy cliffside shantytown called Thoben, seemingly trapped in perpetual midnight. It looks like a slum where the sun never quite reaches. Styx should feel right at home.
This perspective alone feels refreshingly novel. From above, Styx mocks the city’s inhabitants, curses their unpronounceable names, and spits on their customs. And why wouldn’t he? Contempt for goblins appears to be the one thing that unites all other races. Thoben’s rulers have even sanctioned a special squad — C.A.R.N.A.G.E. — to deal with the goblin “problem.” As the only goblin capable of speech and rational thought, Styx becomes the resistance: a one-man army fueled by tricks, bitterness, and survival instinct.
Shards of Darkness marks Styx’s third appearance, following Of Orcs & Men (where he played a supporting role) and Styx: Master of Shadows. All were developed by the French studio Cyanide Studio, better known for their Pro Cycling Manager series and various Warhammer titles. I hadn’t played the earlier Styx games, but after Shards of Darkness, I’m eager to go back. Styx controls beautifully and is simply fun to inhabit.
Normally, I dislike characters who break the fourth wall and speak directly to the player. Styx does this constantly — but here it works. I imagine he’s not really talking to me so much as to an imaginary friend, because he has no one else. You, the player, become that confidant. The story itself is laughably clichéd, but with Styx at your side, you get to mock it together. He’s a great character, and I felt oddly honored to be the only one he trusted.
THE POWER OF GOBLINS
Gameplay, on the other hand, is pure, unfiltered joy. Finally, I get to play a thief who actually feels nimble, clever, and uniquely empowered. In the shadows, Styx is almost invisible. He can assassinate any unaware enemy, and his simian physique allows him to reach places utterly inaccessible to others. The controls are so responsive that when Styx dies, I feel personally responsible. He even calls me out for it on the game-over screen, occasionally begging me to lower the difficulty.
Styx can sabotage environments, poison food, and craft tools and assassin’s weapons. He’s hopeless in a straight fight, but his dagger can parry and stagger enemies long enough to escape — or to strike decisively. Through the use of amber, he gains access to limited magic: brief invisibility, clones to mislead pursuers, and other tricks that can be expanded through modest skill trees.
BRAND NEW STEALTH
Narratively, Styx works for Helledryn (voiced by Barbara Anne Weber Scaff), a human captain within C.A.R.N.A.G.E., tasked with uncovering a conspiracy inside elven society. The plot takes several turns best left unspoiled, revolving around a shapeshifting elf with unclear motives.
Rather than an open world, Shards of Darkness is structured around large, open-ended levels. Between missions, you can rest in a sanctuary to craft items, upgrade skills, and equip better gear.
In most stealth games, I feel disempowered — constantly reacting to threats. Here, the dynamic is reversed. Storywise, I’m a thief, but mechanically I feel like a hunter, stalking prey and choosing when to strike. Because resources are scarce, I rarely rely on Styx’s tools or magic, instead trusting my own planning and perception. This shifts responsibility squarely onto me as the player.
Early on, I felt woefully underprepared. Later, with experience, the game almost felt easy — even as enemies grew stronger. By the end, I could traverse entire sections unseen, using Amber Vision (the fantasy cousin of Assassin’s Creed’s Eagle Vision) to identify optimal routes.
Still, the enemy has numbers. A single mistake can instantly flip the roles from predator to prey. When that happens, survival depends on memory and awareness. Styx cannot fight his way out of trouble. If you’re exposed, you’re fundamentally out of your element.
This oscillation between empowerment and vulnerability creates a fascinating psychological loop. You begin cautiously, grow bolder as confidence builds, then overreach and get caught. When detection becomes frequent, confidence erodes, forcing you back into patience and restraint. The game never scripts your failure — when you’re discovered, it’s your fault. Styx’s post-death taunts only reinforce this lesson.
Unusually for a stealth game, Shards of Darkness balances tension and hubris, creating an atmosphere of constant uncertainty. It’s clear the developers understood exactly what they were doing. Styx’s mockery isn’t just flavor — it subtly trains you to play better.
With a stronger story, better boss fights, and a more meaningful progression system, Shards of Darkness could have been truly great. I was also mildly disappointed by the reuse of earlier maps in the latter half, though the openness of the levels makes this easier to forgive. What remains is a surprisingly varied, well-designed, and carefully balanced stealth experience, fully justified by the narrative.
A TAXING EXPERIENCE
With only eight main levels and a disappointing final boss, Shards of Darkness isn’t long — though it may feel that way at first. Amber Vision reveals just how many paths each area offers. Repeated deaths usually indicate that you’ve missed a safer route. The game is almost entirely systemic: learn the systems, respect them, and stay hidden until you do.
Enemy AI is clearly rule-based. You can watch the logic unfold as guards investigate noises, comment on crushed comrades beneath chandeliers, then calmly return to their posts and fall asleep again. This could be seen as a flaw, but I experienced it as part of the system. Recognizing and exploiting patterns is, after all, the core of stealth play.
Despite its slow pace, the game never allows true relaxation. Platforming, planning, and constant vigilance create a mental strain that discourages long sessions. Tutorials explain how to act, not what to do. Objectives are clear, but execution is entirely up to you. Checkpoints are irregular, making manual saving essential.
The tension was intense enough that I had to take frequent breaks to rest my hands and reset my focus. Some might call this a pacing issue. I don’t. As soon as I recovered, I was eager to return — unwilling to lose momentum and have to rebuild my hard-earned confidence. Games can satisfy in many ways, and the joy of growing as a player should rank among the highest.
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