Norco review: A strange and beautiful interrogation of religion

I stopped attending church two years ago after Katrina.

For one reason, my mom had problems with the Catholic Church’s stance on divorce — my parents had divorced when I was six, civilly, respectfully, and to the benefit of all parties involved — and that slowly caused our habitual attendance at mass to wane. In the middle of all that is involved in rebuilding a home after a disaster, including fighting insurance companies and finding contractors to make rentable temporary homes for two kids, Catechism classes became less important. The storm itself was not the only reason, but the reality of the aftermath contributed. So I stopped going.

For a while, religion was not something I missed. Actually, it was something I found myself grateful for. Its pitfalls, its misdeeds and its followers were all obvious to me. How could anyone trust anything so blindly, despite the failures surrounding it? That faith was beyond my comprehension.

Image: Geography of Robots/Raw Fury

Norco, the point-and-click adventure game based on the New Orleans suburb of the same name, is a mystifying experience. The writing of the book is beautiful and inspiring, sparking a creative fire within you. You begin as Kay, returning home after the death of your mother Catherine. With all your usual doubts and resentments, you left home for the mundane reasons. Your inner monologue will overlay the landscapes and memories of your childhood as you write your backstory. You remember the years you were gone, including the war you stumbled into. While recounting a story about hiding in a freightliner, you are given three dialogue options: “I prayed.”; “I slept.”; “I forget.”

I was presented with the following options two times: one when I played the demo, and another when I started the full game. Although I wasn’t religious, each time I selected “I prayed”. It was a reflex, with no doubt, and no desire to try another path.

Stepping into Kay’s childhood home, you quickly begin sifting through the lives that have been left frozen in time. In your old bedroom you find books, posters, and mementos, including a stuffed monkey that you can choose whether or not to take with you going forward. You will also find laundry from your mother, her medications and tapes with her warbled thoughts. Million is the escapee android that your mother took years ago. Million can be found in the back yard, leaning on the pickup truck. Million tells you your brother Blake has disappeared — this is the beginning of your quest to unravel the past, present and future for your family as well as the entire town.

Norco‘s pixel art is vibrant and kaleidoscopic, like the stained glass in a cathedral. The first act focuses on the landscape of Norco, from its refineries, to its swampy terrain, to its battered, suburban architecture. As you explore the Greater New Orleans region, the second act takes place beyond Norco. It switches between Kay and Catherine’s viewpoints. To find the Promenade Mall, a group of zealots is camping out in your area with relevant information, you will need to look for clues at City Hall and concerts. The third act, however, is even more amazing. You set out to search for your brother and you end up in the marshes. Along the way you meet a huge bird covered in mud whose eyes were stolen. Norco also provides some really solid comic relief, from launching a cat through the ceiling to a lengthy story about a guy shitting himself.

Image: Geography of Robots/Raw Fury

The pixel style also captures the comfort and majesty of a Louisiana sunset, its blockiness mirroring the density of humid, summer air. My obsession with sunrises and sunsets is well-known. I have hundreds of pictures, each depicting a unique staining of the sky. The special ones are the ones I cherish, as well as the people who were there with me. I also remember those times when it was oppressive and held me close. Today, my friends will text me, You seein’ this shit? and I’ll reply, Yeah man, can you believe it? With each new pixel scene that passes my computer screen in Norco, I want to text my friends, You seein’ this shit? searching for someone able to reply, Yeah man, can you believe it?

Norco blends a myriad of genres to tell its story, from cyberpunk, to mystery, to Southern Gothic. This appreciation of the environment permeates all aspects of the game. Technology is destroying the area. These technologies include those that are part of our everyday lives, such as smartphones and oil refineries, but also ones that don’t exist in our daily life, such as corrupted cloud services where characters can upload memories. Norco‘s framing as a mystery allows you to piece together how these technologies came to destroy your hometown.

While the game is mostly a straightforward point-and-click narrative, several of its side stories deviate on a mechanical level. One such side story takes place at a puppet show beneath the highway overpass. It is about an alligator who lost his child to a shrimper. You are asked by the shrimper to kill him and find the shrimper. You navigate a swamp from an overhead perspective, on a map born of flickering light. Once you find the shrimper, he asks you to kill the alligator instead. You make a choice.

Image: Geography of Robots/Raw Fury

I love point-and click games for both the agency that they offer and the agency that they withhold. But, I love the lessons I get about myself through them. What do you do in the worst or best version of your life? What should I do? What do I say? Is my love for my brother greater than my anger at his actions? Tomorrow, will that be different?

In Norco, I can be a different version of myself — more virtuous, or at least, someone inching toward it. I can apologize for my absence. My family and I can reduce the distance. An eco-terrorist can join me and allow me to break into an oil refinery that is ravaging my community.

I chose to kill the shrimper. The screen was covered in blood as I shot the shrimper. I returned to the alligator and told it that I had completed my mission. But the alligator laughed at me, and decided to eat me anyway. No matter what my intentions, I was forced to make a choice.

As you fall further into the underworld of Norco, what you’re asked to believe in becomes more extreme. When confronted with the possibility of an angel, you are given two reaction choices: “There’s no such thing” or “What if you’re wrong?” I chose “There’s no such thing.” The other character counters, “When the freightliner sped down the highway, did you not pray? The clarifying light that eliminates doubt is not something you are unfamiliar with.

I froze, embarrassed how quickly I’d forgotten. I had prayed — twice.

Image: Geography of Robots/Raw Fury

I have a growing desire to be religious as I get older. It’s nice to think of something greater than myself, something that can quell my endless questioning. I have friends who take their religion seriously, and I’m envious of that ritual and solace. But as I journeyed through Norco, I realized that while I lack religion, I have ample faith. I have chosen to stay in Louisiana, despite all the evidence stacked against it. Despite rising living costs and the tourist economy’s job boom, I chose to stay. Norco is part of a stretch of land with air so polluted it’s referred to as “Cancer Alley“; still, lawmakers push to make Louisiana a “sanctuary state” for fossil fuels. I stay. Each hurricane season grows longer and more intense, so I remain. I remember sitting on my porch after Hurricane Ida and marveling at the beauty of every sunset. The Louisiana sky was never in doubt.

Norco ends on a visceral note that will speak to Louisiana’s staunch hangers-on, but also to anyone seeking a beautiful, oppressive, and ultimately hopeful story. My reaction to the past and future was overwhelming. As I heaved and sobbed over my computer screen, I thought once again about faith — the kind it takes to stay here. If you don’t understand that faith, Norco may very well convince you.

Norco was released on March 24 on Windows PC and Mac. The game was reviewed on PC using a pre-release download code provided by Raw Fury. Vox Media is an affiliate partner. These do not influence editorial content, though Vox Media may earn commissions for products purchased via affiliate links. You can find additional information about Polygon’s ethics policy here.