Cabernet: A Deep Dive into the Bold and Elegant Wine Experience
Although numerous issues exist, Cabernet is an unexpected narrative-driven RPG that anchors its fantastical challenges in real-world issues.
By Jordan Ramée on
There’s a wealth of captivating intrigue to discover within Cabernet‘s fundamental theme of monsters being inherited, a concept that, at first glance, appears designed to draw parallels between the protagonist’s vampirism and her father’s alcohol dependence. Yet, Cabernet ventures deeper with its narrative, exploring the recurring nature of humanity’s brutality towards one another, particularly concerning the treatment of the lower class, and how society’s various ills stem primarily from the affluent inheriting the misdeeds of the deceased. All of this contributes to a profoundly engaging and consequence-driven tale where every choice holds the potential to astonish you with monstrous weight. A few late-game technical hiccups slightly detract from the game’s magnificent conclusion, but even if the developer, Event for Introverts, doesn’t resolve these issues in post-launch updates, the journey to Cabernet’s final moments represents a remarkable undertaking in interactive storytelling.
Set in a 2D narrative-driven RPG during the 19th century in Eastern Europe, Cabernet begins with protagonist Liza’s funeral. You temporarily take on the role of her uncle and deliver a eulogy which influences Liza’s life trajectory and her chosen abilities. The focus then shifts to Liza as she awakens in a dungeon. Confused about her circumstances, Liza forms a pact with an unseen and mysterious force for her release, only to find herself at a gathering filled with vampires. It quickly becomes clear that she has been transformed into a vampire as well, and this new existence brings with it numerous challenges, such as managing an insatiable thirst for blood and avoiding sunlight. However, significant freedoms accompany this change; Liza gains supernatural powers that enable her to access places she could never enter before, get away with actions that would typically lead to swift arrests, and chase ambitions and pleasures unattainable to most mortals.
In this light, Liza symbolizes the middle class, which was emerging during this period in actual history. Liza cannot relate to the centuries-old Countess who commands all the vampires in the region and resides in a mansion overflowing with riches, nor can she fully empathize with the struggling farmer girl who dreams of learning music and improving herself but must labor in the fields for hours to ensure her family can eat. However, Liza can take small steps into both of their worlds to understand their respective ordeals, and while she may not fundamentally change the dynamic between the poor and the rich, she is among the few in the city who can have an impact on the lives of people in both social classes. This setup grounds the otherwise supernatural narrative in real-world contexts, embedding themes into the story that lend even the most intriguing choices substantial narrative significance.
There’s something chillingly poetic about Liza’s new vampiric existence as she must now cater to the desires of a wealthy and immortal elite while sustaining herself on mortal blood, the most appealing of which to feed on are the less fortunate. You could also resist this metaphor by having Liza spend daytime hours obtaining bottled blood, but doing so leaves little money left to improve her own quality of life with books and clothes that could enhance her skills. For Liza to advance in any way, she’ll eventually need to feed on people, and Cabernet ensures that the wealthiest characters are regularly just out of reach of Liza’s fangs.
Cabernet frames this struggle with a moral system that weighs Liza’s humanity against her nihilism. I particularly appreciate this mechanic because, unlike many other morality systems, it does not confine your choices to a simple good-vs-evil framework. While most decisions that enhance Liza’s humanity tend to be generally positive, they are not without their flaws. Conversely, opting for Liza to embrace nihilism often takes a darker turn, yet not all associated choices are entirely negative. For instance, feeding on rabbit blood for resources or lying to spare someone’s feelings are both nihilistic actions, while advocating for a group to abandon all forms of violence and trust those in power to do what’s right is a humane action. There’s a strategy to pushing Liza towards being more of one than the other, as Liza’s humanity or nihilism can unlock new dialogue options with specific characters, enabling you to navigate difficult conversations. Furthermore, Liza can also unlock new dialogue paths by enhancing her knowledge in particular skills—I chose to focus Liza on art and science while neglecting history or literature—creating numerous strategies to tackle challenges.
Seeking solutions constitutes the majority of Cabernet’s gameplay. Liza only has a limited amount of time each night to accomplish tasks, some of which take significantly longer than others, making it essential to carefully plan and schedule her activities. While it may be possible to complete everything for everyone and tackle all optional objectives, my experience revealed that I had to make more considered choices and compromises, as the order in which I assisted others had consequences as well. The pressure…
Managing Liza’s role as the city’s medical assistant and nurturing connections with the two dozen most vital figures is further complicated by her personal need to consume blood. As previously mentioned, while it may be possible to obtain bottled blood, you will likely find your finances rapidly depleting due to other expenses.
In the lore of Cabernet, vampires must fully drain individuals they have charmed first to prevent humanity from discovering their presence, and Liza can completely charm those who trust her. This entails understanding your intended targets and, during your most desperate moments, deciding whom you will choose to feed upon. Although Liza’s victims do not retain memory of what occurs due to the enchantment, the lingering feeling of having been taken care of remains, subtly diminishing their perception of Liza and potentially influencing future interactions. To add a layer of excitement (and unease), you cannot observe the physical condition of Liza’s victim while she is feeding; you only see the amount of blood you have consumed and how much vitality returns to her face. If you believe Liza has had enough, you may instruct her to stop—consume too little, and she might have to find another person to feed on before the week concludes, but consume too much, and the victim could perish.
There are distinct parallels drawn between vampirism and alcoholism in Cabernet, yet the game seems to overlook the mechanics behind such comparisons. While the game warns of the risks associated with devolving into a mere savage leech, I personally never experienced this. Although the game requires you to monitor Liza’s blood levels, it feels more akin to managing a food meter in a survival game rather than confronting and managing an addiction. This isn’t detrimental to the gameplay but creates a slight disconnection in the narrative, as many times Liza encounters vampires who caution her about becoming overly reliant on blood or lamenting that her need to feed will negatively impact her relationships with friends and family, yet neither ever became a concern. An intriguing detail is that overfeeding and allowing Liza’s blood meter to overflow causes it to deplete faster, so consistently pushing the limits of the meter may result in Liza becoming extremely reliant on finding someone to feed on, but this is easily avoidable. I was able to comfortably manage Liza feeding a few times each week, which had minimal negative effects on her relationships.
Ultimately, it is the human aspect of the narrative that takes precedence, not the vampiric one. Cabernet revolves around decision-making, yet its strength lies in the story surrounding those choices. Each scene is imbued with a rich darkness reminiscent of artwork from the era, and composer Jim Fowler (Bloodborne, LittleBigPlanet) adds a beautiful gothic mystique to the overall experience. Nearly every significant character leaves behind a memorable narrative mark, thanks in large part to the remarkable voice acting. The satisfaction in observing how the individual arcs of Liza’s friends, foes, and acquaintances unfold is entirely overshadowed by the interplay of how each of their stories intertwines, enriching the overarching narrative.