Omori

Recently I finished the game Omori; a nauseatingly nostalgic RPG with bodybuilding planets, parasocial plant creatures, and enough suicidal intent to fill a Sylvia Plath novel. I'd seen it around for a long time, and it had been sitting in my Steam library for a few years, so a recommendation by a dear friend of mine was enough to get me started.

And my review is... it's one of those games that make you feel physically ill. I was sitting at my desk and rocking back and forth for the entire ending, like a scared child in need of a bedtime story. But I think in a good way?

It follows Sunny, a reserved and quiet teen boy, reminiscing on his youth shortly before his move out of state. We meet his cast of childhood friends; the aptly named Hero, the constantly bickering Aubrey and Kel, the sensitive artist Basil, and his older and always reliable sister Mari. Swapping between Sunny's real life and imagination, we discover truths about him, his past, and the secrets he keeps.

I'll get this out of the way: it's graphically beautiful, with a real homemade feel to it that suits its nostalgic themes perfectly. The production is masterful and mechanics feel natural. I'd give the game a 4.5/5, with the half star knocked off due to narrative choices as opposed to production failures.

Characters fall into clear archetypes, each having different reactions to a key traumatic event depicted in the plotline. Sunny feels guilt; Basil feels abandoned; Kel chooses optimism; Aubrey becomes angry and Hero avoids the issue altogether. This full range means they cater to a very large audience: anyone who's had anything happen in their childhood, and felt something about it. Due to the scope of the game they only fully explore the feeling of guilt through Sunny, although other characters are touched on.

I only cried once in the whole game, but not at the ending (which, according to a few Instagram reels, means I am not human...) - and it was at a pretty inconsequential scene. It was when (spoilers in this paragraph) the team reunites in the real world and visits Basil's house after he comes back from the hospital, but Basil locks himself in his room and the crew has a slumber party in his living room while waiting for him to 'wake up'. Anyone close to me personally will probably understand why, but it was an interesting reminder of how different parts of games can hit people differently. 

Omori puts a lot on the table, admittedly; and not everyone will relate to or understand everything. A few scenes I couldn't connect with made me feel a tiny bit bored, and it could've been nice to have some choice over how much RPG you have to play through (I fled from most early battles due to a lack of interest, then had to grind some levels for later boss fights, which got a little tedious). But I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since, and it incited strong emotion: what more can you ask for from a game? 

So I conclude: Omori is a game full of heart and feeling, with incredible production, visuals, and an interesting narrative. It's great because it offers enough terrifying nightmares and heartbreaking moments to constitute a full-on psychological horror, then covers them up with cutesy scribbles, a disarming supporting cast, and a lullaby-like score that almost makes you forget what you saw in the scene before. The same way childhood tends to.

So go play it ;p