Recent reviews by Wirdjos

I knew I was in the right place when the journey started by making a cup of tea.

Tukoni: Prologue is simply enchanting. From the whimsy of heating water with an orange grass to the lushness of giant clovers and bryophytes, every bit of it invokes the uncomplicated joy of a children's picture book. The Traveller takes his time strolling through it all, which only becomes a frustration when the path he takes is unexpectedly long or during the odd misclick. But the music sets the mood well and that mood is as unhurried as the Traveller himself. So it fits.

The Prologue is just a taste of the forest spirits' world. Enough to get a clear vision of how to converse with its denizens and ease their worries. No more than a whetting of appetite with a promise of more on the horizon.

There's a surprising amount to do in Down the Rabbit Hole Flattened, at least at the price point of free. It was a fun, cute, and complete romp through Wonderland. Not much of a twist to the classic fantasy world this time around, but Down the Rabbit Hole is its own story with its own characters, every one of which was fully and amusingly voiced. Puzzles were by no means brain busters, but also didn't overstay their welcome. The experience was all around solid, if not terribly exceptional.

I would imagine the thing that puts it over the top, that got it nominated for so many awards, is more apparent in the original VR version. But without the equipment or interest in the technology, I'll have to settle for waiting on the 'Escape from Wonderland' sequel to be Flattened as well. After all the charm of Down the Rabbit Hole Flattened, I'd gladly purchase more if it was offered.

Gorgeous and interesting, Voice of the Ocean exists as little more than a proof of concept at the moment. The main pitch mechanic does work and is plenty forgiving in its current incarnation. Though I do have little hope one with as limited musical inclination as myself would be able to progress much further along its eventual difficulty curve.

There's really only one sunken building to explore, with a couple of audio logs also scattered around the ruined city outside of it. The content of the logs presents an enticing narrative, seemingly voiced by the student developers themselves.

I don't know if Voice of the Ocean will continue past its current state, but it's plenty charming and intriguing as it is now.

He Needs His Medicine and all there's left to do is get it for him. You'll have to mix it yourself, but there's no recipe to work out. It's completely your own creation. Only takes about a minute once you know what you're doing.

Now, let's see how he likes this new concoction...

Taking place inside what appears to be a monochrome, cardboard shadowbox, My Friend is a Raven is a VERY short point-and-click game. It took me less than half an hour to see all four endings, as each was intuitive and based around which items you took or puzzles you solved before meeting the eponymous raven.

I've played demos that lasted easily twice as long and left a quarter of the impression My Friend is a Raven did in half the time.

As soon as the game loads, Serena starts, without warning. There's no menu to greet you, no options or saves to fiddle with. And the instant its conclusion is finished, the game simply closes. This starkness, along with the Inspect Tool disappearing once the looping dialogue had finally exhausted itself at the end, were the most affecting parts of Serena.

Something about the classic adventure game line reading doesn't seem to work in the closed environment of the cabin. With no puzzles to solve and only dialogue to discover, it feels somehow empty.

Even that emptiness, in its own weird way, works to enhance the loneliness and hollowness of the protagonist's memories, which will be your sole companion through this hour-long experience.

The Creature Kitchen lies somewhere between the spooky and the adorable. All the horror staples are here: doors slamming behind you, things flinging off of selves by forces unseen, ominous messages at every turn. None of which rise to the level of even jump scares. This is both because there's always something cute behind the disturbance and because the events themselves are... gentle? It's as if a pouting cartoon chipmunk is constantly reminding you that this is in fact a horror story. Each twist is the most unsettling possibility, but I just can't take you seriously with such pinch-able cheeks!

Imagine a paper fortune teller that only has binary choices. Now, add a heaping dose of surrealism. Then, swap every expected outcome to something wildly different and you'd have something close to Mitoza.

Oh! And it always ends up where it began.

Yeah, I don't get it either.

It was so... quick... A playthrough's only about 15 minutes. It's not enough time. It wasn't.

The art is perfectly beautiful and haunting. It hits just right. That's the problem. Take missed messages. seriously. The warnings are not background elements, they're the main attractions. And I don't think knowing that makes it any less sudden or shocking.

But the great thing about games is that you get a second chance. You can try again. You can make it go differently the next time around. That helps.

It's surprising how much heart(in both the unsettling, anatomic sense and the sentimental sense) one can jam into such a small package, but The Supper manages.

The art direction tows the line between the disturbing and the silly in the same sort of way the slow, plodding background music is offset by bright generic video game noises. The real star, however, is the disembodied narration that so effectively sets the mood without ever making a sound.

The Supper is thus a perfectly balanced dish heaping with a special sauce I'd rather not know the origins of.