As videogames about time travel go, Quantum Break holds up incredibly well, boasting a foolproof narrative structure that never contradicts itself (not even once, I dare say — a particularly rare feat considering the premise’s infamous volatility as a storytelling device). It definitely ranks among the most coherent, tightly constructed stories based on the premise that I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying in any medium ever.

If anything, it only goes to show that the time travel conceit serves as a formidable fiction-writing challenge, where creative minds are made to hone and put their sense of storytelling economy into practice (or, in this case, words). The best time travel stories that are founded on consistently sound internal logic have no room for superfluous gestures and throwaway tics; everything has to serve a purpose — if not in the current scene, then most certainly later.

Yet there’s more to time travel stories than their paradoxical, often rigid mechanics, as there’s certainly more to stories in general beyond mere grammar. Quantum Break is great not because of its strict adherence to its own established logic (although it definitely helps), but rather because it’s ultimately a story about letting go and moving forward — the past cannot be altered, but the future still can.