Choice-driven narrative games live or die by how convincingly they let players inhabit a role—and how boldly they respond when you try to push against the tone. Dispatch, Adhoc’s upcoming story-focused title pitched as a spiritual successor to the classic Telltale formula, appears to understand that tension well: it invites you to be ruthless, then dares you to stay that way.
The premise drops players into the shoes of Robert Robertson, a manager-type figure navigating a workplace full of superheroes trapped inside a corporate machine. On paper, it’s a perfect setup for a “tough love” run—someone who treats the job like numbers on a spreadsheet, not people. But as impressions from the game suggest, Dispatch’s cast is written with enough warmth and emotional friction that cold decisions don’t land as cleanly as you might expect.
That’s an important distinction for any game chasing the old Telltale vibe. Classic Telltale titles often encouraged players to roleplay specific arcs—idealistic hero, pragmatic survivor, or hardline leader—by presenting binary dilemmas with clear tonal outcomes. Dispatch seems more interested in the uncomfortable middle ground: the characters around you are human enough, and their reactions nuanced enough, that “being heartless” starts to feel less like a playstyle and more like a personal failing.
This approach also fits the game’s broader theme: superheroes aren’t just saving the world here—they’re stuck navigating bureaucracy, office politics, and the kind of corporate pressure that can flatten anyone into a role. By framing emotional choices inside a system that treats people as assets, Dispatch can make player decisions resonate beyond simple morality, turning every curt line or harsh call into a comment on the workplace itself.
Editorial conclusion: If Dispatch can consistently sustain this push-and-pull—giving players freedom to roleplay while ensuring the world pushes back in believable ways—it could stand out in a space crowded with “choices matter” promises. The real test will be whether the consequences feel systemic and lasting, not just a momentary scolding from likeable characters. Either way, a narrative game that makes cruelty difficult—not forbidden, just emotionally costly—may be exactly the modern evolution this genre needs.