Lyssa Greywood's Reviews
There’s a sweetness to the storytelling, even as it brushes against darker edges. Conversations with your aunt before she vanishes are tender and grounding, and her absence leaves a noticeable quiet in the game’s tone early on. The world itself does much of the storytelling — a broken teapot here, a patched-up bed there — all little reminders of a home once full of life.
Rue Valley plays out like a mix of detective work and emotional archaeology. You explore, experiment, and test how small changes can ripple through each loop. You can’t wander too far from the motel — 47 minutes isn’t long — but you can visit the bar to the north, Max’s gas station to the south, and the roadblock. Each place hides clues or moments that shift how events play out next time. ...Every so often, the tension melts into quiet, human moments. Playing the piano in the bar for Anitta is a favourite of mine — a rare breather from the chaos. Talking to Robin at the reception often triggered “aha!” moments about what was really going on. It’s a game that mixes madness and calm, and somehow makes both feel equally satisfying.
A Pizza Delivery is about memory — not the kind we want to escape from, but the kind that won’t let us go. You play as B, a pizza delivery rider whose only goal is to deliver her final order. It sounds simple, but the further you travel, the stranger things become. You soon realise you’ve entered a world that’s not quite real, where areas loop endlessly and people linger between remembering and forgetting. ...It might sound harsh to call A Pizza Delivery half finished, but that’s the truth. The game’s structure, pacing, and puzzle design all feel like they needed more testing. It’s also riddled with smaller bugs: shifting tree textures, visible seams in walls, and the red pizza box sometimes disappearing if you talk to the final character before completing her puzzle.
There’s something comforting about sitting in front of a blank canvas… and something daunting, too. But that’s how Dream Garden begins: with an open space and somewhat endless possibilities. At first, it feels a little intimidating, like staring at the first page of a new notebook and not knowing where to start. But that’s also where the magic is. The game doesn’t just let you build a garden; it lets you create art without needing to know how to draw.
...if you push through that rocky opening, The Lonesome Guild becomes a heartfelt story about connection and healing. Each of the six characters you recruit brings something different to the game; not just in battle, but emotionally. Mr. Fox, for instance, became my favorite because of his grounded personality. He’s sarcastic and honest in a way that feels human, and his response to events (when compared with Davinci’s constant need to keep things light and happy) is refreshing. The story shifts focus from the red mist and Ghost’s identity to what it means to find belonging in a world that’s forgotten how to connect.
...one of the most emotionally charged games I’ve played in a while. It isn’t fun in the traditional sense—it’s meaningful. It asks you to sit with discomfort, to make impossible decisions, and to confront what survival looks like when the world falls apart. Dewi’s story isn’t just about her; it’s about anyone who’s ever had to make hard choices in a system stacked against them.
This isn’t just a comedy game. It’s a story about finding meaning after loss, about how we carry grief without letting it define us. The writing has moments of silence and softness that stick with you and make you want to replay the episodes again and again. This might be strange to say, but this game is something truly beautiful.
Beyond sandbox mode, there isn’t much here that feels new. Unbox the Room follows a familiar formula that’s been used by many isometric organising games over the past year. It’s a genre that could use a break, and while this game adds its own touch of charm, it doesn’t stray far from what’s been done before.
Kokoro Kitchen is a visual and auditory treat. Everything from the colour palette to the background music feels designed to relax you. The developers have created an atmosphere that’s gentle and familiar, like the warm glow of a favourite café on a rainy day.
Spindle surprised me. Beneath its gloomy opening and talk of lost souls lies a story about connection, empathy, and the strange comfort of knowing your place in the world. It’s a little clunky in places—the controls are weird, and the combat could use a touch more energy, but none of that overshadows what it gets right.
What makes the story work is the balance between over-the-top humour and heartfelt character writing. Ringo’s energy sets the tone, but she’s never just comic relief. She grows, she struggles, and she learns what it means to fight with honour. The Peace mechanic underlines this beautifully—you can choose not to finish off weakened enemies, instead flashing a peace sign and earning their respect. It’s a mechanic that fits the story’s ethos and gives weight to Ringo’s journey.
Running Strange Antiquities feels like a mix of puzzle-solving, catalogue work, and moral choice. Each day is a self-contained session that takes about twenty to thirty minutes, which makes it perfect for short bursts of play. You spend your time identifying artefacts, cross-referencing your tomes, and deciding which object might help (or hinder) the townsfolk. ... Strange Antiquities is a masterclass in atmosphere. The game captures that balance of dark and cosy that makes Undermere such a compelling place to return to day after day. The rain at the window, the candlelight across your shelves, and Juniper’s quiet presence all weave together into something that feels both homely and haunted.
The gameplay is a series of logic puzzles. Each level drops you into a new setting—cinemas, buses, boats, train cars—and challenges you to arrange characters according to their preferences. It starts out easy: someone wants a window seat, or a music-lover shouldn’t sit next to someone trying to nap. Over time, the combinations get trickier, forcing you to juggle multiple constraints. The best levels, in my opinion, were the diner and the train. These included little extras like moving food around or sorting luggage, which made the experience feel fresher.
Out and About is a warm, carefully researched foraging game that respects both its subject and its players. It’s not just about collecting plants; it’s about learning, connecting, and becoming part of a community. The developers have built a space where small acts matter. There are still things to polish, from plant clarity to clothing variety, but the heart of the game is already in the right place. Even with its rough edges, it delivers something thoughtful and soothing, and it’s easy to imagine it becoming even better with time.
The game’s information suggests a grand narrative about humanity’s survival and AI integration. But that sense of scale quickly collapses as you start playing. There’s no payoff for the foreshadowing, and Akane’s personal stakes never feel urgent. Conversations also tend to rely on awkward tropes—especially when it comes to how female characters are written. Akane is strong, sarcastic, and clever… but even she isn’t spared from the occasional objectifying dialogue choice. Other women suffer the same fate, too often reduced to outdated archetypes that feel out of place in a world otherwise trying to present serious themes... The world has a lot of personality, and I wanted to get swept up in it. But I couldn’t ignore how often the game forced me to endure lines that felt uncomfortable at best and sexist at worst. That dissonance pulls the story apart.
As much as I wanted to love this game, there’s no denying it could have done more with its charming setup. For starters, the game only gives you a few small side missions tied to the parcels. What if every delivery came with a task, like helping the florist arrange a bouquet or prepping a treat for yourself at the café? That could’ve turned this from a 40-minute filler to a cosy two- or three-hour delight.
Crafting is unintuitive; you can’t build while serving guests, and the costs to buy recipes and materials are steep and long-winded. Even basic tasks like cleaning tables break under bugs. Objects float and then suddenly move towards where they should be, guests sit down with their body caught in the back of a chair, and your character can walk through multiple objects like Vanellope von Schweetz in glitch mode. It’s hard to keep pacing when mechanics fail you repeatedly.
There’s no traditional storyline in Another Farm Roguelike: Rebirth, and that’s by design. You don’t have neighbours to chat with, and you’re not building a life, just a farm. The premise is simple: build, harvest, and expand to meet rent. And while there’s no story in the traditional sense, there’s a rhythm to it that ends up telling its own kind of tale. Each playthrough creates a miniature arc. You begin with almost nothing, struggle to find a foothold, and either succeed gloriously or flame out trying. Your farm evolves rapidly, and the joy comes from seeing what you can make of your short time, especially once you start understanding how everything fits together. It’s survival through soil.
Instead of a high-stakes quest, Tales of the Shire is a slow, community-driven experience. You meet hobbits, complete small quests (yes, sometimes they're fetchy), and build relationships. It feels true to Tolkien’s vision of the Shire: a world outside the world, untouched by the urgency of war and darkness. It’s not about what you accomplish but how you settle in. And for me, that’s exactly what I wanted. ...Tales of the Shire does have a few technical hiccups. On my Switch, I didn’t run into crashes or major performance issues (aside from the lack of music), which others did report on PC via Steam and Nintendo Switch. But I did see texture loading delays. Furniture and hobbit outfits sometimes started off much simpler and snapped into detail a few seconds later, especially in cutscenes or busy shops. It’s not game-breaking, but it is noticeable. I’m hopeful this will be patched, because everything else ran beautifully. Movement was smooth, loading times were short, and I didn’t experience any framerate drops. Compared to the complaints in other Tales of the Shire reviews, my experience was much more stable.
Hotel Galactic is a game with heaps of heart and a few kinks still to smooth out. Its gorgeous storybook visuals and lovingly hand-crafted animations give it an appeal that’s hard to ignore. The concept is clever, and when it clicks, it really clicks—you’ll find yourself juggling guest requests, expanding your hotel, and tinkering with tiny contraptions in a kind of joyful flow. But it’s not without its frustrations. The bugs, having to reload, and some muddiness in the tutorial can throw you off your groove, especially in the early hours. It’s a game that needs a bit of patience and willingness to poke around until things make sense.