Don’t speak. Don’t run. Don’t look in the train. Just do your job. It’ll all be over soon.
My Take:
This game swallowed me whole. I launched it with a casual “let’s see what this strange little indie thing is about,” and instead found myself pulled into something I couldn’t shake off. It isn’t just gameplay, it’s atmosphere — an environment that keeps twisting just out of your grasp, a world that feels alive, hostile, and indifferent all at once.
As glass cracks under your teeth, every action feels loaded. Blowing the whistle, running small errands, maintaining routine — these aren’t mechanics, they’re rituals. Each one carries weight, unease, and the quiet certainty that something is wrong, though you can’t ever name exactly what. The air feels thinner the longer you play, like the game itself is watching how many breaths you take.
The story unfolds in fragments, in whispers, in things half-said. You’re left with questions, and the game never promises to answer them. Multiple endings branch out like cracks in the ice, each one making you wonder what you missed, what choice tipped the balance. The uncertainty is part of the experience — you’re never fully in control, and that’s exactly what makes it so compelling.
I came in expecting a quirky experiment. I left convinced I had brushed against something strange, bleak, and beautiful. If you’re drawn to games that unsettle rather than comfort, that leave you with more questions than answers, this one is essential.
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