Unpromisingly, Sayonara Wild Hearts begins as an endless runner.  Three lanes.  Pick up the hearts.  Avoid crashing into the things. 

There’s an irony here, that a developer hailing from mobile games should base its ballyhooed Switch debut on the dreariest of all mobile genres.  This is the company behind much-admired mobile rhythm game Beat Sneak Bandit and chilled out narrative The Sailor’s Dream.  My expectations are placed a lot higher than yet another Subway Surfers or a new twist on Temple Run. 

But it’s a trick.  It turns out that Wild Hearts’ lane running is merely an introductory percussion, which soon swells into a layered composition of clever, beautiful melodies of sight and sound.  Simogo’s Nintendo Switch game is an interactive pop album in which the beats sync and de-sync from on-screen action.  Its music is poppy and peppy enough to raise lane running from the humdrum to the pleasurable. 

And then it goes off the rails, so to speak, jangling strangely with short gameplay vignettes that bring to mind a host of gaming standards: beat-em-up, arcade shooter, skateboarder, romance, derby racer and more, before sliding into its lane-running meter that divides one verse from another. 

These disparate elements are stitched together with neon color palette, quick wit, intriguing characters and ultra-tight design.  From the very first song/level, it’s clear that Sayonara Wild Hearts means to intertwine synthy pop tunes with the gleaming structures of video gaming’s canon.  The music evokes mood, while the on-screen action creates an emotive mix-tape of nostalgia, excitement, story and wonder.  This is a world of cavorting, jesting joyfulness. 

For my media demo, I’m only allowed to play this first level.  And I love it.  In this early part of the game, there’s very little in the way of challenge.  If I miss my cue, song and game blur into a short rewind-pause, inviting me to try again.  I’m almost always successful the second time around.  Sayonara Wild Hearts wants me to find my groove, to glide through its melodies. 

I enjoy the novel experience of believing myself to be a dancer, though the dance floor isn’t so much a square plane as it is a series of tunnels wallpapered in psychedelic hues, decorated with gaming iconography. 

I suspect it’s one of those games, like a great pop album, that delivers its mysteries and pleasures through repetition.  Certainly, it lends itself to repeat play in search of high scores.  I decide that, when this game comes out — some time this year — I’m going to play it while I’m good and baked on sativa gummies.  You can find out a bit more, here.