When The Moon Hits Your Eye Like A Big Pizza Pie, That's Omori.
I just finished Omori. By 'just' I mean I'm literally sitting on the 'thanks for playing' screen as I write this post introduction, unwilling to move on.
God. How do I talk about this game?
Okay, let's start with a basic overview. Omori is an interesting game! It's a retro pixel-art RPG that blends charm and horror, which naturally invites comparisons to Earthbound and Undertale, although Omori puts greater emphasis on the horror. But, while it clearly draws inspiration from Earthbound, Omori very much feels like its own thing, with its own style. I love the hand-drawn character portraits and battle visuals.
Beyond that, I'm going to get both spoilery and personal. This entry contains discussion of bereavement by suicide, both in fiction and in real life.
The emotion-based status effects are explained early on. You're told about three - HAPPY, SAD and ANGRY - and these three effects have a rock-paper-scissors relationship. So you naturally assume that those are the only three status effects characters experience in battle. I wasn't at all prepared the first time the game threw me into battle against something unknown and terrifying, and I saw that my character was AFRAID.
I don't want to go too deeply into personal matters here, but, as someone who's lost friends to suicide, some of the sentiments expressed by the characters felt painfully familiar. The confusion over why it happened, and just having to accept that you'll never fully understand it. The horror of feeling it might happen again and not knowing how to stop it, no matter how clearly you see it coming; that's a very specific thing I've experienced personally but haven't seen depicted in fiction before. The need to forgive the people you've lost, for them and for yourself. In some respects, it felt like this game was speaking directly to me.
Maybe it's not possible to speak about these things without getting too personal.
I can get a little touchy over the depiction of suicide in fiction, but I felt Omori was a game that really understood the subjects it wanted to tackle. It seemed to be approaching these topics with a genuine desire to explore them, rather than just looking for a convenient source of shock or drama or tragedy.
and I wrote all that before the twist, holy fucking shit
that doesn't negate anything I wrote, this game still resonates with me and feels like it's written with care
but holy FUCKING shit I was not expecting that
And the photo album was such a clever way to convey it, too! No dialogue; just the slow, creeping realisation that the photographs we're picking up don't seem to match up with the story we know. Honestly might be one of the most impactfully deployed twists I've ever seen in fiction.
'Just because you've done something bad... doesn't make you bad.' Oh, Sunny. This poor kid.
God, I've only just recognised the significance of the hand creatures that attack you in white space. I wonder if it was also an intentional thematic choice to make the indicator when you're choosing options a pointing hand, rather than, say, an arrow.
I got very emotional during the musical montage in the final battle.
Omori is a game about escapism, and about being unable to escape. It's often charming and funny; it is also disturbing and upsetting. It troubled my sleep at points. It's a game I found myself thinking about when I wasn't playing it: not in a fannish way, but in a haunted way.
At one point I felt physically ill when I realised I couldn't stall any longer; I was going to have to progress the plot, and I was terrified of what I might discover. In fact, there were multiple points where I wanted to do anything but advance.
I don't know if 'I loved it' or 'I enjoyed it' is the right phrase. At times, the best word for the experience is 'horrible'. I enjoyed it at times, and, at the times the experience was unpleasant, it was unpleasant for the right reasons. I really liked this game. I hated this game. I found it fascinating. I'd recommend it, but I don't know who I should recommend it to.
I suppose my recommendation would be 'take the content warnings seriously, but I recommend Omori if you enjoy a) retro-style pixel-art JRPGs that blend charm with a heavy dose of horror, and b) getting kicked in the gut'.
I'm glad I played Omori. Maybe that's all I can say. I think it's a very impactful, very well-made game, and it resonated with me in ways I wish it didn't.
I'm going to be thinking about this one for a while.
God. How do I talk about this game?
Okay, let's start with a basic overview. Omori is an interesting game! It's a retro pixel-art RPG that blends charm and horror, which naturally invites comparisons to Earthbound and Undertale, although Omori puts greater emphasis on the horror. But, while it clearly draws inspiration from Earthbound, Omori very much feels like its own thing, with its own style. I love the hand-drawn character portraits and battle visuals.
Beyond that, I'm going to get both spoilery and personal. This entry contains discussion of bereavement by suicide, both in fiction and in real life.
The emotion-based status effects are explained early on. You're told about three - HAPPY, SAD and ANGRY - and these three effects have a rock-paper-scissors relationship. So you naturally assume that those are the only three status effects characters experience in battle. I wasn't at all prepared the first time the game threw me into battle against something unknown and terrifying, and I saw that my character was AFRAID.
I don't want to go too deeply into personal matters here, but, as someone who's lost friends to suicide, some of the sentiments expressed by the characters felt painfully familiar. The confusion over why it happened, and just having to accept that you'll never fully understand it. The horror of feeling it might happen again and not knowing how to stop it, no matter how clearly you see it coming; that's a very specific thing I've experienced personally but haven't seen depicted in fiction before. The need to forgive the people you've lost, for them and for yourself. In some respects, it felt like this game was speaking directly to me.
Maybe it's not possible to speak about these things without getting too personal.
I can get a little touchy over the depiction of suicide in fiction, but I felt Omori was a game that really understood the subjects it wanted to tackle. It seemed to be approaching these topics with a genuine desire to explore them, rather than just looking for a convenient source of shock or drama or tragedy.
and I wrote all that before the twist, holy fucking shit
that doesn't negate anything I wrote, this game still resonates with me and feels like it's written with care
but holy FUCKING shit I was not expecting that
And the photo album was such a clever way to convey it, too! No dialogue; just the slow, creeping realisation that the photographs we're picking up don't seem to match up with the story we know. Honestly might be one of the most impactfully deployed twists I've ever seen in fiction.
'Just because you've done something bad... doesn't make you bad.' Oh, Sunny. This poor kid.
God, I've only just recognised the significance of the hand creatures that attack you in white space. I wonder if it was also an intentional thematic choice to make the indicator when you're choosing options a pointing hand, rather than, say, an arrow.
I got very emotional during the musical montage in the final battle.
Omori is a game about escapism, and about being unable to escape. It's often charming and funny; it is also disturbing and upsetting. It troubled my sleep at points. It's a game I found myself thinking about when I wasn't playing it: not in a fannish way, but in a haunted way.
At one point I felt physically ill when I realised I couldn't stall any longer; I was going to have to progress the plot, and I was terrified of what I might discover. In fact, there were multiple points where I wanted to do anything but advance.
I don't know if 'I loved it' or 'I enjoyed it' is the right phrase. At times, the best word for the experience is 'horrible'. I enjoyed it at times, and, at the times the experience was unpleasant, it was unpleasant for the right reasons. I really liked this game. I hated this game. I found it fascinating. I'd recommend it, but I don't know who I should recommend it to.
I suppose my recommendation would be 'take the content warnings seriously, but I recommend Omori if you enjoy a) retro-style pixel-art JRPGs that blend charm with a heavy dose of horror, and b) getting kicked in the gut'.
I'm glad I played Omori. Maybe that's all I can say. I think it's a very impactful, very well-made game, and it resonated with me in ways I wish it didn't.
I'm going to be thinking about this one for a while.