Each emotional state brings with it particular stat boosts, and it’s possible to escalate from being simply happy to a state of manic excitement. Its rock-paper-scissors strategy revolves around emotions, with sadness beating happiness, happiness beating anger, and anger beating sadness. "Omori takes a story that might have come off as trite or even insensitive in the wrong hands and imbues it with a memorable darkness." The attacks are generally pretty simple, but it can occasionally be surprisingly well-animated for a game of this type, featuring anime-style cut-ins that help to punctuate its strongest moments. Set in a first-person perspective, it finds Omori (or Sunny) battling a mix of punny monsters, school bullies, and random office equipment. This art finds its fullest expression in its battle system, which superficially resembles the turn-based combat found in the 16-bit RPGs of yesteryear, but differentiates itself by weaving in extra elements that tie in neatly with the story. It helps that it attacks its subject matter with a verve that goes above and beyond games of this type, with standout art resembling that of a sketchbook come to life. So while Sunny’s journey doesn’t read as especially new - how many indie games are about unpacking trauma? - it does resonate with me. Nearly eleven months of lockdown will do that. I’ve spent much of the pandemic unpacking long-standing grief, reexamining old feelings, and processing my emotions with those closest to me. Omori hits at a very particular time for me. How the eponymous protagonist, also named Sunny, chooses to deal with this trauma sits at the crux of its story. It spends the duration of its roughly 20 hours slowly unwinding a shocking event that leaves a trail of grief, repression, and broken friendships in its wake. When he’s not battling household objects or gators wearing sunglasses, he inhabits a blank room known only as “White Space” that contains his laptop, a black lightbulb, a box of tissues, and an extremely disturbing sketchbook.Ĭrafted in the style of gonzo RPGs like Earthbound, Omori vacillates wildly between a kind of wholesome strangeness and grim psychological horror. Based on an independent manga of the same name, Omori is the story of a silent teenager who spends most of his time exploring elaborate retrowave fantasy worlds. The story of Omori, a small RPG with a fervent fanbase released in the last few days of 2020, is built on such moments. I saw myself holding my cat tight, and I cried. Humans can be very good at repressing the grief that arises from traumatic memories, but photos have a powerful way of taking one back to a particular time and place. It was only a few months later, when one of the hundreds of photos that I had taken of my cat popped on my phone, that I genuinely broke down. The next thing I knew I was at the vet, saying goodbye to my sweet boy as I held him for the last time. I got the call on the way home from a rare visit with a friend, where we had sat six feet apart with masks on as we watched Hamilton.
Last year, as the pandemic dragged on through the sweltering summer months, my cat unexpectedly died. It doesn’t have the most original story, but its execution makes it one of the year’s most memorable RPGs. An RPG that’s quirky as it is dark, Omori is carried by its standout art, which resembles a sketchbook come to life.
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