When Gone Home was released, one complaint levelled at it (somewhat unfairly) was that nothing happens. It’s all piecing together the past, rather than affecting the present. But regardless of whether that complaint is valid or not, Gone Home has proven hugely influential as part of the FPX (First Person Exploration) genre. The latest indie title to riff on its environmental storytelling gameplay is Tale of Tales’ Sunset, a game that plays similarly to Gone Home but where things absolutely do “happen”.

The year is 1972, and the place is the fictitious Latin American nation of Anchuria - a stand-in for any one of the military dictatorships propped up by the US in the ‘70s. You are Angela Burnes, an African-American immigrant to the country, employed as housekeeper by wealthy arts patron Gabriel Ortega. The game takes place between 5pm and 6pm on a series of days over the course of a year, as Burnes and Ortega form a relationship and Anchuria’s people rise up against their despotic leader.

Your interaction with Ortega’s apartment hews close to the Gone Home form, but with more variety and cheekiness. You’ll spend your time inspecting Ortega's lavish decorations and artworks, tidying up the telling signs of his lifestyle, and allowing yourself a few personal indulgences. It’s in these indulgences that the story emerges, in conspiratorial and playful ways. Ortega leaves notes for Angela, and you can choose she responds. Does she flirt back? Does she lecture him on his unconscionable position in Anchuria’s economic climate? Does she even follow his instructions for the day? What you elect to do will likely be based on your attitude towards the things in the apartment - expensive artworks, ‘70s furniture, books about art and conspiracy - and towards the escalating violence taking place outside. Sometimes it even makes sense for Angela to simply put on a record, recline in one of Ortega’s plush seats, and allow herself some creature comforts amidst beautiful magic-hour lighting. But in terms of interaction with the wider world, you’re on the outside, affecting things indirectly in your own small way.

That’s the approach Sunset takes to its politics, too, and it’s refreshing to see a story about violence that doesn’t have the player commit any. Instead, you’re near-powerless against the struggle taking place outside, a bystander in a relatively safe situation questioning how ethical your position is. It's explicitly about status disparity, and explores that in original and fascinating ways. Can you morally justify working for a wealthy man who helps prop up the regime when that regime has your brother as a political prisoner? Sunset is a game about facades; about how long you can ignore ugly truths. At least, up to a point. Halfway through the story, it becomes a game of subtle influence - conspiring however you can to help the revolution along. It’s perfectly balanced between feeling powerless and like you can make a difference, and those tiny snatches of impact - particularly when the violence comes home - mean all the more as a result.

But Sunset’s strongest component is the quiet, understated relationship between Angela and Ortega. They’re two lonely people at opposite ends of a turbulent place in history, and though they never meet, they form a touching relationship. It’s romantic, in a furtive kind of way, how the two develop an understanding just through leaving notes and playing games - an understanding that could easily be broken by meeting in person. Also effective is the arc the relationship follows with respect to the revolution. Both parties have an effect on each other’s beliefs, and the change feels natural and unforced. The turns the story takes later on (in my playthrough, anyway) are properly wrenching melodrama somehow played subtly. Together, even if they’re physically separate, Angela and Gabriel overcome considerable class distrust to become a team, and it’s hard not to get invested.

It’s not all great. The pacing is off - though playthrough length is variable, mine felt about an hour too long - and I encountered a period in the middle where the story was locked in a repetitive, monotonous loop. Too much of the story is told in (well-delievered) interstitial voiceover, which feels like a cheat when one of the game’s strengths is its environmental storytelling. And it’s hard to admire the game’s beautiful colour palette when the frame rate reaches slide-show-like lows.

But it’s hard to begrudge Sunset its technical faults (which may well have been improved upon since the review build) when its storytelling is so ambitious and layered. It’s the tale of a massive, violent upheaval told from a bystander’s perspective, and feels all the more personal for it. It feels like it could play out a dozen different ways, depending on player choice, coming to any number of different conclusions. The tiny victories we eke out for ourselves, in our own way, make a huge difference to us - and if we can play a part in the larger victories, all the better. Sunset is all about those tiny victories, and in the process becomes a tiny victory of its own.