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Death Howl is a bold combination of grief-driven storytelling, deckbuilding strategy, and soulslike challenge. It’s not an easy game to settle into, and the lack of a tutorial makes the first hour harder than it needs to be. But if you can push through the rough start, there’s a deep, soulful experience waiting for you. The atmosphere alone might keep players going even when the difficulty bites back.
The decorations and keepsakes inject personality into the space, with many items appearing so tactile that you can almost feel them (and some even invite interaction for a short animation). Chairs look hand-painted, lamps cast soft halos… Even the suitcases have a slightly worn look that suggests they’ve travelled with you. When everything comes together — your cabin, your cat, the drifting weather — it creates something that feels like home. It’s like Cozy Grove during its quietest moments.
Bosses do feel challenging, but never to a point of being impossible. My first encounter with a boss resulted in me eating pretty much all of my snacks for health. The more you explore, the more items you can find to assist in fights: it turns out there's a multitude of strong weapons out in the world. Once I figured that out, battles became a lot easier to succeed in.
Even at 60FPS, Project Motor Racing boasts some stunning visuals and a keen attention to detail you don’t see in every sim racing title. Cars visibly kick up debris and rubber from the track, which is a lovely touch, particularly in the cockpit view. On that note, birds take to the skies as you drive by, and it was especially noticeable racing around the infamous Green Hell. That attention to detail extends to the car models as well, and many of the vehicles sport a selection of liveries. I thought the visuals during my afternoon race at Monza looked a little washed out, but I discovered far more dramatic lighting when I set races for different times of day. Driving at sunset is breathtaking, and Straight4 Studios has crammed Project Motor Racing with plenty of stylish flourishes, like exhaust flames.
Retrace the Light is a beautiful game. A vast variety of environments require completely different designs, and to be able to accomplish that whilst maintaining cohesion is impressive. Not only are the traversable areas a joy to admire, but the character designs are lovely too. The images of characters in conversation are colourful and bright, with an almost watercolour feel. It’s an interesting choice to put in such a technology focused game, but one I really like.
The hand-drawn visuals are the heart of the game. The environments shift between fiery forests, cool moonlit woods, and floating cliffs, each with its own mood. Nothing is overcrowded or noisy. Shapes and colours guide you through the world. The style reminded me of Ori’s gentle glow and Hollow Knight’s calm moments, mixed with the nostalgic charm of early Studio Ghibli films. The magical collar/purr effects are lovely too — plants blooming, fish deflating, dandelions lifting you into the air… Every change feels part of a natural, enchanted world.
As far as the story goes, Constance’s is one of relatability. We all work, or have stress in our lives that can be hard to overcome. Sometimes this gets on top of us. Sometimes we want to get away from it all. And this is where the story of Constance lies. Overworked and overtired, the protagonist falls deeper and deeper into her painting until she is absorbed by it. Now, I must be honest here. I didn’t fully grasp the story, and as much as I’m sure it will only develop further, I was only able to observe what I assume is a small sliver. Told to me through cutscenes and small interactive segments, I was shown a world through the eyes of someone who was struggling with the demands of a working life. Something most of us can agree on is hard from time to time, as I say. It’s a touching story and a great premise for a narrative. Connecting with the player on a personal level allows them to relate to their player on a closer level. And from what I’ve seen, it’s a story worth seeing through, especially when combined with the brilliant gameplay.
By far the strongest card in Duskpunk’s hand, the story kept me intrigued and looking for the next bite of lore. Whilst mired in mystery, the narrative follows a rich story of war and the steps people can go to avoid it. This is even more so in the dystopian world of Duskpunk. I found myself in the place of a soldier. Lost and confused in an unfamiliar place, equipped only with pain and horrific memories. After some brief text and some decision-making, I was cast out into the slums of a sprawling city. It was from here that the story began to open up to me. With NPCs to meet and richly detailed locations to explore. Each location and NPC interaction pulled me deeper into the story, and I began to feel as though I was entangled in the world itself. Truly brilliant story direction.
Demonschool‘s visuals are simply phenomenal. Sprites set in a 3D world runs the risk of clashing, but the excellent artistry on display makes it feel as natural as breathing. The transitions into combat blew my mind the first few times, as the world is peeled away to show the dark reality beneath. Character art is eye-catching, with solid dark lines accentuating shocking amounts of detail. Even the previously mentioned sprites ooze charm, with plenty of motion and snappy poses.
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.
What’s especially interesting about the story is that it isn’t told in a traditional way. Most games rely on dialogue or text to move the plot forward, but Unpetrified: Echoes of Nature speaks through motions and atmosphere. The story unfolds through your actions, the world’s reactions, and the subtle animations that bring everything to life. There are a few written tutorials and bits of information to help you in the beginning, but most of what you understand comes from the overall atmosphere, graphics, and visual animations rather than writing.
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.
The story in Biped 2 isn’t exactly the main attraction. It serves more as a gentle backdrop than a driving narrative – a reason for your mechanical duo to explore new areas and tackle a variety of clever mini-puzzles. It gives the journey just enough context to make each challenge feel meaningful, without ever getting in the way of the gameplay. It’s simple, sweet, and exactly what it needs to be, just enough story to give purpose to all the fun chaos that follows.
Simon the Sorcerer Origins is one of those games that sneaks up on you. I went in not knowing much about it, and never having played the originals, but found myself genuinely enjoying the world, the humour, and the art style. The story is quirky in all the right ways, the writing hits that perfect mix of snark and sincerity, and the visuals give it a personality all its own.
After signing a deal with the Devil, the protagonist of Devil Jam is cast into the underworld to perform his gig over and over again. For eternity. Whilst this was the story I was presented and expected to follow on from this, I did find the story offering to be somewhat lacklustre. Whilst not an essential part of survivor-like rogue-likes, when presented with the premise of a story, I would have enjoyed seeing it expanded.
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.