Kabaret immediately caught my interest when I heard it was created by a Malaysian studio and based on Southeast Asian myths. I was born and raised in Singapore, a close cultural cousin to Malaysia – while our countries are now distinctly different, we share similar histories and folklore. The premise of Kabaret sounded simple – you are a monster, serving tea to other monsters. You play minigames, and learn about the monsters around you. But from the game’s opening, I knew there was much more waiting beneath the surface of this dark fantasy visual novel. Some mild spoilers ahead.
You play as Jebat, a food-delivery rider who doesn’t seem to care much about anything – he’s as passive as they come. He’s cruel, nihilistic, and thoroughly unlikeable until he gets cursed and is sent to a monster realm, where he’s taken by a mysterious figure called the Caretaker to the Kabaret. He’s then appointed as the event’s tea master. This is where the game really kicks off.
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From the title screen alone, I was struck by Kabaret’s art. It’s very beautiful, with much of it outlined with gold in subtle reference to batik, an Indonesian method of dyeing clothes. The illustrations look like watercolour, and every character’s design is a loving interpretation of the myth it comes from. Chapter screens are intricately detailed and vibrantly coloured, depicting each setting gorgeously and highlighting the mystical nature of the world.
The music was equally compelling thanks to Indonesian band Sambasunda and Malaysia composer Tay Cher Siang. I love to see Southeast Asian artists highlighted in indie games in general, but the soundtrack was a major factor in creating the mystical environment and it felt incredibly regional. Major characters had musical motifs, though these never overpowered the overall experience. The voice acting, where there was any, was slightly overperformed – but thankfully there was more reading than listening in this visual novel. The sound design does get annoying at times, especially when using my journal that detailed characters you meet and teas you’re able to make, but it didn’t impact my experience too much.
As you’d expect, making tea is a big part of Kabaret, so it’s a shame the act of doing so is a bit janky. Highlighting items on the table doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll be able to select them unless you click on a precise hitbox far smaller than the object. Making tea itself is fun, unless you’re an idiot like me and don’t realise there are recipes in the journal provided. Once you realise there are, it’s fairly easy to make the right tea for the characters requesting them as long as you listen to what they need, as opposed to what they prefer. It’s not as prescriptive as it sounds – the recipes are somewhat flexible, so there’s still a little bit of improvisation involved.
There are also minigames based on traditional games like congkak and guli, which my grandparents played as children. Congkak, also known as mancala, is a strategy game where you redistribute seeds across a board with the goal of getting as many as possible in your storehouse. Guli is more akin to pool as you flick marbles with your fingers, trying to hit as many of your opponent’s as you can. These traditional games are slightly adapted to the visual novel template, but remain a sweet taste of the region’s cultural history. These minigames are used as ways to connect with the other monsters in the Kabaret, but they aren’t as well utilised in the narrative. I had no idea if brewing a bad cup of tea had any impact on the story, or if losing a game of congkak or guli held any consequences. Does getting a bad grade on a performance impact the story at all? Who knows. They were fun, but seemed to be there more for colour than for narrative.
Kabaret really shines in its themes. Before Jebat enters the world of Kabaret, he’s what he calls a loser. To him, people who don’t take their lives into their own hands are weak – he sits by and watches people suffer, because if they’re not strong, they’re not worthy of life. After being cursed and thrown into a world of monsters, you watch him learn empathy in real-time, in a way that made me roll my eyes with disdain. I won’t go into detail, but Jebat is a dick, and that’s the point. The game is his redemption arc, a lesson in being selfless and caring for the people around him. He’s a deeply flawed character, but it’s all in service of a greater message. It also hits on intergenerational trauma, discussing how our parents shape us in ways often inescapable.
Within Malaysian culture, there’s a lot of distrust of politicians, explicit bribery and overt, institutionalised racial discrimination, and this is reflected in the game. Kabaret is in the throes of a power struggle, with three main candidates fighting for power. None of them are good options. In fact, most of the choices in the game are difficult moral quandaries that left me desperate for a different way to do things. Choosing between evils is never ideal, and in the context of Kabaret’s power struggle, it reminded me of political systems all over the world. Sometimes, there is no moral choice.
Kabaret is also explicit in its anti-colonial and anti-war stance, touching on indigenous land, the Spanish colonisation of the Philippines, and the Japanese occupation of Malaysia in World War 2. All this feeds into Kabaret’s biggest theme, which is breaking cycles of oppression. Is it right for us to maintain peace by placating the masses, when they’re suffering? Is it right for us to pin our hopes on political candidates instead of taking things into our own hands? It’s a complex exploration of human nature, revolution and victimisation. The key to Kabaret’s stance lies in Jebat’s name, which he shares with a legendary Malaysian anarchist who led a rebellion against the Malaccan Sultan.
This is a lot for a visual novel to tackle, and sometimes Kabaret’s writing falters. There were moments when I cringed at how heavy-handed the game was in making the character reconsider their previous statements, and moments in which the dialogue didn’t do its narrative justice. Most of the game still held up, with some very evocative writing and plenty of statements that made me confront my own ideals. The major characters were impressively layered, considering they’re based on mythical beings. I have no regrets about giving eight hours to this visual novel, and I came away changed. It is definitely worth your time.
