Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock Holmes would appreciate Master Reboot. A "memory palace" of sorts stands at its heart, complete with doors leading to memories with clues for unraveling ominous riddles. It might also turn the head of The Matrix's Neo, who'd recognize shades of his own crisis in its attempt at crafting a real world from binary coding (even if it lacks the same visual fidelity). Nestled in its homages to past tales lies a premise that might’ve made Neal Stephenson which he’d thought of it. But that great idea is squandered on cheap jump-scares and misplaced first-person platforming.
Much like the Wachowski siblings' 1999 film (or Plato, for that matter), Master Reboot prompts us to question reality. Lacking hints or tutorials, its encourages dreamlike fumblings by forcing you to learn its tricks by chance amid scenes and environments that shift as easily as tracks on a music player, all through the eyes of a female protagonist who discovers the method behind the broken images only by reading scraps and studying photos. This is the Soul Cloud, a databank where loved ones can plug in to the memories of dead friends or family members, letting them relive key moments in the deceased's life as though they still walked the Earth. Echoes of the deceased's consciousness waft through the circuitry, allowing the living to leave messages for them in the form of (yes) glowing rubber duckies.
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