Chains of Freedom Review – Tactical Firefights in a Crystal‑Sick Wasteland

An asteroid strike should have been the apocalypse’s opening act; instead, it became the pretext for a regime to seize the reins. Chains of Freedom opens in a scarred slice of Eastern Europe where shards of alien EDEN crystals twist citizens into snarling mutants and the Sovereignty’s steel‑booted Peacekeepers enforce order with rifle barrels and propaganda posters.

The moment our transport spirals into a contaminated exclusion zone, the game hands control to a splintered squad cut off from command. Regrouping is only the first objective—survival, scarce ammunition, and the creeping suspicion that our superiors are hiding something far uglier follow close behind.

Mechanically, Nordcurrent sits squarely in the modern tactics lineage, marrying the AP‑driven shoot‑and‑scoot rhythm of XCOM with the free‑form exploratory pauses found in Mutant Year Zero. Battles pause time into calculated slices, while between firefights you sweep derelict towns in real time, prying open lockers for scrap and the glittering biocrystals that reshape soldier builds.

Chains of Freedom lands on PC, PlayStation 5, and Xbox Series platforms, and—right from the opening crash—signals an experience built for players who enjoy tactical depth without drowning in micro‑management, all sketched in moody comic panels that accentuate the setting’s grime.

Shadowed Streets and Shifting Loyalties

Chains of Freedom locates its drama in a region scraped raw—bomb‑scarred plazas, pine forests humming with radiation, and research bunkers pulsing with ruby EDEN veins. Posters praising the Sovereignty peel from cracked walls while resistance slogans bloom in fresh spray‑paint.

Moving through these zones, you catch radio snippets about crystal‑immunity quotas or a family’s last plan to slip past checkpoints; a street‑corner vendor argues with a medic over state vaccine mandates. This incidental chatter roots the conflict more convincingly than any briefing screen.

The plot advances in firm chapters, each step edging closer to the Sovereignty’s iron curtain. It opens with a downed aircraft and a straightforward search for missing crew, then pivots once scientist Anatoly Svetlov appears. Orders darken, evidence of illegal trials accumulates, and squad trust erodes with every data slate pried from a lab console.

An early operation that forces the squad to clear a defenseless hamlet—solely because it blocks a supply route—casts a long shadow over later objectives. Momentum never stalls, thanks to headline twists that include the squad’s asset status being revoked and rival militias exploiting the growing power vacuum.

Beneath the firefights sits a trio of ideas giving the narrative bite. First, the clash between authoritarian doctrine and personal agency—many Peacekeepers enlisted for stability, only to watch that promise curdle. Second, the body‑horror motif: flesh fusing with crystal mirrors a slow loss of identity.

Last, collateral damage remains a constant specter; every improvised mortar lobbed toward mutant throngs risks catching civilians scrambling for antidote rations in its blast radius. The game rarely lectures, yet its battered landscapes and grim objectives keep these ethical questions front and center.

Faces Behind the Rifles

Chains of Freedom’s squad is fronted by Lieutenant Corgan, a commander whose self‑assurance drifts into recklessness. He loves a flanking gamble: spend ten action points on a wide sprint, unload a magazine, then bark “pressing forward” while everyone else plays catch‑up.

Evie, the medic, hides exhaustion behind dry quips about expired field rations; her revive animation ends with a mock salute that undercuts the grim setting. Rounding out the opening trio is Fidel, a heavy‑weapons devotee who obeys orders out of loyalty yet mutters about “better ways to win hearts” whenever collateral damage piles up. Any soldier can handle any firearm or crystal, which expands tactical freedom but flattens individuality—Corgan with a shotgun feels identical to Fidel wielding the same kit.

Opposition arrives in several flavors. Mutated hounds and “Crystallized” raiders harry flanks like the Lost in XCOM 2, creating unpredictable cross‑fire. Rival militias scavenge Sovereignty tech and treat the squad as trespassers, while the regime’s colonels trade thinly veiled threats with rogue scientists chasing their next breakthrough. Each group shapes encounter tempo: mutants rush, militias dig in, elite Peacekeepers rely on overwatch traps.

The story breathes through motion‑comic interludes splashed in neon scarlet and sickly green, evoking late‑era Vertigo panels. During missions, radio chatter fills quieter stretches—Evie reminiscing about pre‑impact Vilnius or a militia captain broadcasting counterfeit cease‑fires. Scattered diaries, propaganda leaflets, and lab logs reward curiosity, layering context without pausing the firefight.

Guns, Crystals, and Calculated Risk

Exploration plays out in compact sandboxes—cracked streets, forest clearings, cargo bays—where you guide the squad in real time. Side alleys hide weapon crates or the saffron glint of EDEN shards, while abandoned kiosks surrender scrap for on‑site crafting. A soft footstep icon pops up now and then, signalling a stealth route that lets you slip past patrols or arrange an ambush, yet the cue appears only in designer‑approved spots.

Fans of Mutant Year Zero will recall the same toggled concealment; here it feels even more scripted, breaking immersion when it vanishes for hours at a stretch. At least the occasional fuse‑box puzzle pays off with rare crystals that warp a soldier’s stat line in ways straight loot drops never match.

Once hostiles spot a Peacekeeper, the field freezes into turn‑based calculation. Chains of Freedom scraps the familiar square grid for freeform movement measured in action points. A pistol shot costs eight, a grenade toss six, a long‑barrel head‑cracker twelve. Because movement, firing, and cover selection all draw from the same pool, a favourite rhythm emerges: dash to half wall, pop two bursts, retreat behind a truck—one soldier, one turn.

Burning extra points sharpens accuracy, a welcome trade‑off that nudges players to gamble when a critical hit would turn the tide. Cover comes in tidy half‑ and full‑height flavours, with a bright arrow flashing when flanked, echoing XCOM’s colour coding while ditching the dice‑heavy feel.

Depth lands in a grey zone. Purists who relish Jagged Alliance limb shots may bristle at the absence of body‑part targeting, stance toggles, or widespread overwatch. The upside? Turn cycles race by, keeping tension high and dead time low. A generous revive window—two turns on Challenge, three on Adventure—erases permanent loss, inviting bold advances that would be reckless in XCOM’s ironman mode.

Enemy variety supports that tempo. Humanoid militants trade suppressive fire, crystal beasts rush like berserkers, and heavily armoured officers boom from stationary autocannons. Certain arenas spice the mix: a courtyard with a commandeered HMG raking every approach lane, or a three‑way scrap where mutants shred militia ranks while you pick off whoever survives. Yet mission objectives rarely stray from “clear the zone,” so after a dozen sorties the script shows its seams, no matter how many factions share the kill box. ​​

Crystals, Firepower, and the Economics of Survival

EDEN biocrystals drive the game’s progression, and the spread is generous: more than a hundred shards, each soldier able to socket five at peak rank. Most are straight stat nudges—extra hit points, tighter spread—yet several come with active skills that reshape a build.

Slotting a “Bulwark Core” grants a damage‑soak shield ideal for a front‑line tank, while “Vital Surge” turns a support medic into a roaming AoE healer on cooldown. The most memorable stones play with risk. One crystal adds two precious action points per turn but flags the bearer for instant death if they bleed out; another converts every miss into a graze for chip damage at the expense of max health. Mixing these perks echoes XCOM 2’s PCS system, though here the sheer volume invites more aggressive tinkering.

Firearms keep pace. Early missions scatter a utilitarian spread of rifles, SMGs, and sidearms; mid‑campaign, flamethrowers and single‑use mortars enter the rotation, giving suppression builds real teeth. Swapping to melee chews an action‑point chunk, a friction that matters when a carbine runs dry and charging mutants close the gap. Late‑game elemental ammo—crystal‑tipped rounds that bleed energy damage—adds punch without bloating the UI, and rarity tiers ensure each discovery still feels like a find despite the shared squad inventory.

Crafting glues it together. Scrap, rations, bandages, and powder clink into the pouch as you comb each arena, then convert to ammo or medical kits through a quick radial menu—no trip back to camp required. Early scarcity makes every handgun clip feel vital, yet by the midpoint the economy tilts in the player’s favour; generous drops soften the attrition loop, shifting tension from resource hoarding to optimal ability timing. The result is a progression curve that starts lean, widens into experimentation, and never quite tips into grind.

Pixel Grit and Mechanical Polish

Nordcurrent’s art team leans hard into grime, and it pays off. Each isometric map smolders under dynamic light shafts—searchlights rake across broken concrete while EDEN crystals cast a sickly maroon glow on flooding fog. Ragdoll physics amplify explosive kills; limbs arc through the air, then thump onto rusted bus carcasses.

Between sorties, motion‑comic interludes swipe across the screen in bold inks that recall Transmetropolitan more than XCOM. Mutants look suitably awful—sinewy torsos slashed by jagged mineral protrusions—yet silhouettes stay readable, so tactical clarity survives the body horror.

The soundscape reinforces the dread. Gunfire lands with chunky report, Molotov glass splinters with a hiss, and crystal beasts roar somewhere between feral dog and failing modem. Music takes a back seat: sparse pulses and low drones keep attention on ambient cues such as Geiger clicks or a distant loudspeaker praising the Sovereignty. Voice performances serve the script without stealing scenes; line delivery is clear, though range rarely stretches past gruff determination or weary sarcasm, a step below the character work heard in Gears Tactics.

Interface design favors speed. The HUD lists action‑point cost next to every command, hit percentages perch beside crosshairs, and inventory icons pop in slick rollouts. Fixed key‑binds on console feel like a holdover from an earlier build—mouse and keyboard users can re‑map, but DualSense players cannot. Stability impresses: a dozen‑hour session showed no crashes, and frame‑rate dips only surfaced when three factions lobbed grenades at once. Loading screens clock in under ten seconds on SSD, so momentum rarely stalls between missions.

Survival Curve and Replay Hooks

Chains of Freedom meets players where they live, offering three sliders of pressure. Story mode turns the mutants into target practice, feeds the inventory generous ammo drops, and removes the revive timer entirely—ideal for newcomers who want tactics without teeth.

Adventure dials things to a middle ground with a three‑turn deadline on fallen soldiers and leaner scrap payouts, echoing the baseline tension of Gears Tactics. Challenge feels closer to XCOM’s Commander setting: enemies flank intelligently, resource crates thin out, and the revive clock shrinks to a brisk two turns, turning every misstep into a potential squad wipe.

Autosaves hit at mission milestones, so a total party kill boots you to the last objective rather than the title screen. Losing one operative isn’t a death sentence if someone reaches them before the counter expires, a design that promotes daring plays without the agony of permanent loss.

Longevity lives in the crystals. A second run can turn Corgan into a shotgun tank who gains AP on every kill, or reshape Evie into a long‑range support sniper. Optional side paths hide lore stashes and high‑grade shards that never appear on the critical path, rewarding curiosity. The trophy list nudges experimentation—earning a medal for twenty‑five Overwatch knockdowns or clearing an encounter using fists only—keeping theory‑crafters busy after the credits roll.