Masquerada: Songs and Shadows

Sometimes, a great story is enough. Masquerada: Songs and Shadows, for example, stays on the shoulders of its fascinating protagonist and central conflict, as its simple, straightforward combat system would never carry a game on its own.

We play as Cicero Gavar, a man who is summoned back from exile to assist in an investigation into the whereabouts of an important researcher. He assumes the role of Inspetore – you can see the Italian influence –, and his findings will make him tread dangerous waters as he uncovers long-forgotten secrets about the world he lives in.

Cicero is haunted by his past, or more accurately, by his brother’s legacy. Cyrus organized a revolution in Ombre, taking hold of its tools of power – they’re masks – and distributing them to everyone in the city. Cicero, however, didn’t support his brother’s movement, preferring to stand on top of the fence, where he got a great view of the main events: the revolution failing and his brother being killed. Because of his neutrality in the civil war, he’s shunned by both sides: the politicians in the Spire accuse him of not having done his duty, while the remnants of the rebel group, the Maskrunners, accuse him of cowardice, blaming him for never standing up to an unjust government. As one of the rebel leaders tells Cicero, “You didn’t choose at all! A spineless pathetic man is easier to hate than even a traitor.”

So, when he is called back to the city of Ombre, Cicero must confront his past mistakes. He’s starting to understand that his past neutrality was disingenuous: silence is always the reaffirmation of the status quo, which means that to choose to remain neutral, apolitical, or ignorant is to pick the side of the oppressor. By not standing with his brother, Cicero was standing against him. And to make matters worse, he’s now employed by the very same government that executed his brother. The revolution failed, and he now must live with the consequences.

That doesn’t mean that he has to like it, though. When questioned by his friend on why he’s so bitter about wearing the Inspetore uniform again, Cicero’s answer is revealing: “Because this symbolizes everything about me that my brother would disapprove of. And I am wearing it.” This brief response shows how Cicero still doesn’t care about the Maskrunners, about the revolution, about the injustices of the world; he cares about Cyrus. For Cicero, matters are still not political; they’re personal. It’s the ghost of his brother that haunts him throughout the game.

And Cicero’s position regarding that is not ideal: he wants to hide from his past, ignore it, believing that if you don’t acknowledge that a problem is there, it won’t hurt you. When questioned by a friend, he answers: “You think getting me to talk about my past will help me get over it – it won’t. I’ve spent the past five years burying the man that abandoned his brother and fled the city. Stop trying to bring him back.” Cicero is an interesting protagonist because when faced with political problems, his reactions are not based on his ideology, but on his personal flaws. He was neutral in his brother’s revolution because he’s incapable of engagement. He can’t choose sides because he’s incapable of commitment. He can’t stand politics because it reminds him of his refusal to engage with the world. Cicero wants to hide in a shell and be left alone. In his journals, he explains this very well:

“My entire life thus far has been an attempt to disengage. When I was young, my brother and I kept to the shadows of the streets – we hunted where the other children would not, we stole from the houses that were the targets of no others. This was a choice I made for us, because I believed that the fewer ties we developed with the world around us, the less they had to hurt us with.”

In other words, if Cicero doesn’t choose sides and prefers to stay away from politics, it’s because it feels safer, more comfortable, to do so. He’s indeed a coward. He sees risk in being an activist, and so he hides. That the game focuses so much on masks makes him a fitting protagonist: what Cicero wants most is to conceal himself behind one, it’s to construct a persona that makes him safe.

However, as the plot unfolds, he learns that his mask demands a cost in lives. In Ombre, masks are a symbol of power because they bestow power. They separate castes – the Masquerada and the Contadani – and enforce social inequality. Those who wear masks have magical power at their disposal, creating a cruel circular argument: they have masks that make them stronger, and they argue that because they are stronger, they deserve those masks, and so have the right to rule. It’s no surprise, then, that Cicero’s brother wanted to distribute the masks to everyone: he wants to break the wheel and socialize power. But Cyrus failed.

Cicero’s journey starts with a criminal investigation that quickly derails once again into…unmasking a political revolution. Cicero begins to uncover the secret behind the masks – their true nature and purpose – and, eventually, he stumbles upon the menacing figure of the Herald. The Herald is the big antagonist: a religious fanatic who wants peace, but intends to achieve that by killing a lot of innocent people. It’s the classic case of the villain who has a noble goal but terribly misguided methods, so what makes the Herald much more interesting is the fact that they’re aware of their contradiction, and it pains them. They abhor senseless violence, and yet they’re the author of what’s basically genocide, because faith binds them with the promise of an elusive reward: the greater good. There’s a great scene in which, after questioning their God and obtaining no answer, the Herald releases a deep cry of frustration and pain: it signals that they’re finally starting to question if faith is enough of a justification for violence.

Cicero, meanwhile, manages to form a group of so-called friends to assist him in his journey, even though it’s far from being a united one. It’s telling that, when one of the party members reveals to Cicero the truth about their sexuality, the protagonist advises them to hide that information from the rest of the group, fearing reprisal: they all have secrets and no one trusts anyone, and Cicero is, of course, averse to conflict.

If Masquerada suffers from a narrative problem, it is its insistence on spelling everything out.  Cicero’s arc, for example, is put in very clear terms in his journal as he learns the fallacy of neutrality: “By those immutable facts, we impact the world, no matter how deep a hole we try to isolate ourselves in. We are accountable for the influence that we have on those around us, no matter if it was inflicted by our design or by uncontrollable circumstance.” Another issue, albeit small, is the overabundance of pointless lore: everywhere we go, there’s a codex entry describing a place or a historical event that, ultimately, doesn’t matter. It’s one thing to make the history of the world detailed and rich, but the way you convey that to the player is crucial.  A bit of “show, don’t tell” here would have gone a long way.

On the gameplay department, Masquerada could be described as a Pillars of Eternity lite. It’s a Top-Down RPG in which we control a party of three characters in real time by using some skills. It’s lite because the game doesn’t have exploration and sidequests, the characters only have four skills, there are no complex combos and synergies, and the basic attack even activates automatically when near an enemy. It’s a linear game, with pretty basic systems: even skill points are awarded at predetermined times instead of when defeating monsters or completing missions.

There are still some small issues, however. To revive a team member, for example, we have to get near them and press “A”. However, this is the same button that activates one of the four skills, which can make the action frustratingly unreliable. Moreover, the skills are all too similar, which makes the ability to change the character we control on the fly a bit superfluous, as they all play basically the same.

But the game’s art style is a colorful one, giving it a striking look. Cutscenes are presented in animated panels, and the general aesthetic is clearly Italian-inspired. The only downside of the presentation is the lackluster soundtrack, considering it has only one mood: solemn. When we are at the Spire, the music is solemn. When we are in the streets, the music is solemn. When we are visiting any other place, the music is, you guessed it, solemn. The only exception is our headquarters – the music is melancholic – and the combat, when the music has a bit – and this bit is very tiny – more energy. For a game that has “Songs” in its title, this area is definitely a disappointment.

Masquerada: Songs and Shadows, then, survives on the strength of its narrative, as it could have also boasted a more engaging combat system and exciting soundtrack. It’s still a great game, but it had the potential to be a brilliant one.

August 11, 2025.

Review originally published on June 12, 2019.