Welcome to Sintopia, Hell’s newest playground.
Sintopia is a fiery debut from Piraknights, a scrappy French indie studio hailing from the picturesque town of Aix-les-Bains in the heart of France. This hellishly clever management sim tasks you with running the underworld’s very own bureaucratic nightmare because even damnation needs a CEO. Published by Team17, the powerhouse behind hits like Date Everything! and Blasphemous, Sintopia carries the promise of polished production wrapped in quirky, devilish charm.
Have you ever wanted to be the boss of Hell? Not the fire-and-brimstone cartoon version, but a sleek, stylish inferno powered by bureaucracy, automation, and just a little bit of gleeful chaos? Sintopia hands you the keys to the underworld and dares you to turn damnation into a well-oiled machine.
Right off the bat, Sintopia is visually striking. It marries the playful tone of Two Point Hospital with the structure of a management sim, all wrapped in a gently evil aesthetic that’s more mischief than malevolence. If Dungeon Keeper, Evil Genius, and Factorio had a spicy little lovechild and raised it in a theme park, you’d get close to what Sintopia is going for.
You play as the administrator of Hell, where profit is directly tied to punishing sins. Souls pour in, each carrying their moral baggage, and your job is to cleanse them through torment, because the more sins you squeeze out, the more money you make. That capital then fuels your hellish expansion: building roads, structures, hiring staff, paying salaries, and keeping the flames of industry burning bright.
But what truly elevates Sintopia is its dual-realm management. You don’t just run Hell, you also get to nudge the Overworld. And by “nudge,” I mean cause very convenient, very deadly accidents. One spell nudges a candle. That candle causes a fire. That fire brings in fresh souls.
The Overworld’s inhabitants, adorable little humanoids called Humus, live their lives in real time. They work, they eat, they sleep, and they die. You can meddle directly or sit back and let the systems play out. Watching it all tick over feels like observing a clockwork snow globe you’re slowly turning into a burning disco.
Then there’s sin, ever-present, always shifting. Your adorable chickpea citizens are constantly toeing moral lines. You can inspect each one’s standing across the seven deadly sins, and those values respond to their circumstances. No home? Envy spikes. No job? Sloth creeps in. The system isn’t static; it’s reactive. And if sin spreads too widely, it can trigger epidemics that spiral out of control.
Spellcasting in Sintopia is restrained but genius. Instead of flooding you with a spellbook of options, it gives you a few powerful tools that encourage creative problem-solving. The Push spell isn’t just for shoving folks around; you can start fires with it, manipulate environments, and wreak clever havoc. Later spells like Fire and Lightning feel earned, but you’re never helpless before then. The game trusts you to be devious with less.
You’re not the only power tugging at the strings of your little civilization. Once a king is crowned, he doesn’t just sit on a throne looking pretty; he’s randomly assigned a personality that shapes how your settlement evolves. Maybe he’s a warmonger. Maybe he’s a lazy glutton. Maybe he prefers to advance technology. Either way, his priorities aren’t yours, and that tension adds a layer of unpredictability that adds to Sintopia’s charm.
Threats are always lurking. Barbarians raid, zombies shamble, wolves hunt, and demons, well, demons do what demons do. But this isn’t an RTS, so don’t expect to bark commands and micromanage your way to victory. You’re not a general, you’re more like a god watching ants fight, and maybe you’re holding a magnifying glass over them in direct sunlight.
You can intervene using your spells, but they’re blunt instruments at best. Spells aren’t surgical; they’re chaos tools. Trying to help your people might accidentally nuke half your village. Trying to punish an invader? You might set your chapel on fire.
Sintopia doesn’t throw you into the fire without a pitchfork. The tutorial is surprisingly well-paced and detailed enough to guide you through the mechanics, but never so long that it feels like detention in demon school. It covers everything from basic building and staffing to deeper systems like research and sin management.
If you’re new to the genre, it gives you the confidence to dive in. If you’re a veteran, it’s just enough to get you grinning at what’s ahead. Once completed, the gates of Hell open a little wider, and you gain access to Challenge Mode, where the real games begin.
In Challenge Mode, you’re offered a choice of three Mandates, each crafted with its own rules, objectives, and gameplay modifiers. These aren’t just difficulty sliders; they twist your goals, reshape your strategy, and make every playthrough feel unique.
One mandate might push you to automate quickly, while another could turn the economy into a sin-soaked balancing act. Completing mandates earns you Prestige Points, a form of meta-currency that lets you bend future runs to your will. This loop of challenge and reward gives Sintopia impressive replay value and makes every loss feel like a step toward something greater.
Prestige Points aren’t just bragging rights; they’re your key to unlocking Boons, dark blessings from the seven deadly sins themselves. Each Boon grants specific advantages and penalties, pushing you to make bold, tactical decisions about how you want your next playthrough to unfold.
Early on, you’ll meet three infernal patrons: Mammon (Greed), Baphomet (Gluttony), and Satan (Wrath). Their gifts are powerful, but they come with strings, and sometimes chains, attached. It’s a devil’s bargain, and you’d better read the fine print while planning out your strategies.
For instance, Mammon’s Money Laundering Boon gives you immediate access to the “Impish Resources” building and guarantees that your Humus king starts with a profitable merchant-focused personality.
It’s a dream for fast economic growth. But the price? The Break Room, essential for keeping your staff sane, won’t be researched at the start. You’ll have to grind your way to it, all while your tired little imps start dragging their feet. Every Boon forces a trade-off, creating a satisfying tension between greed, power, and sustainability.
Completing mandates grants you more Prestige Points, letting you stack new Boons, try bolder combinations, or explore entirely new strategies. It adds a clever layer of long-term progression, tempting you to dig deeper into the infernal machine and find out just how much sin you can squeeze into one efficient little Hell.
The Graphics of Sintopia don’t go for grimdark infernos or photorealistic torment. Sintopia embraces a cartoony, stylised look that’s bursting with personality. Every building you place isn’t just functional, it’s full of cheeky props and detail, turning your underworld empire into a living, breathing diorama of damnation. There’s joy in the details.
Don’t let the cutesy aesthetic fool you, though; this game can grind your GPU if you dare to max the settings. The complete 360° camera control and generous zoom range give you total command of your view, whether you want to oversee your entire domain or peer into the oversized, anxious eyes of a single Humu. That level of visual polish turns micromanagement into a spectacle.
The soundtrack keeps things light and upbeat, surprisingly cheerful, considering you’re orchestrating eternal torment. It never grates or loops obnoxiously, settling into that perfect background hum that keeps you tapping along as chaos unfolds. The voice acting is exceptionally well done, and the ambient sounds add to the more office-style aesthetic that the game boasts down in Hell.
And that’s where Sintopia shines: it knows exactly what it is. It’s not trying to be deep or philosophical about morality. It’s not overwhelming you with menus or overly complex logistics. It’s playful evil, system-driven chaos, and sharp design wrapped in charming aesthetics.
Overall, Sintopia isn’t just another management sim; it’s where strategy, chaos, and dark humour collide in perfect, wicked harmony. Whether you’re a battle-hardened veteran or dipping your toes into management games for the first time, Piraknights delivers a damn near flawless experience that’s equal parts charming and devilishly clever. They’ve crafted a game that not only looks the part with its quirky, eye-catching style but also nails the complex interplay of mechanics and systems with precision and flair.
