I’m sort of shocked by how wonderful Spiral Wings is from the perspective of a tight storytelling experience. It is very Dark Souls in its approach to the world–there’s something fantastic here, something pseudomedieval, something strange–a figure lies dead at the bottom of a well. It escapes to reclaim its soul from the air.
There’s a magic to the finitude of Spiral Wings. The flying creature, the semi-souled thing, is trapped in this place in an attempt to reclaim what it has lost. It cannot leave this idyllic sky. The sun beats on it, it gathers its soul, and finds its home.
Then the game loops around again. The figure in the cellar vomits up a black draconic shape.