I'll preface this by noting how odd I find it that many call this a Sonic clone - if anything, Klonoa is much more similar to the Kirby series, or even Yoshi. He relies on enemies, their placement, and minor abilities to progress through the level in a slow and methodical manner. He's not very powerful on his own, perhaps even feeble. I think that's some odd talking point people have read somewhere before and parrot.

Gameplay wise, I forgot how open and nonlinear these levels are. You get a sense of each as a legible place - they feel holy, arcane, and well-used. Compared to Lunatea's Veil, which features mostly linear levels but a few more cinematic moments within them, Door to Phantomile toys with level design in a seamless way and feels genuinely inventive in how it structures its progression and difficulty. I respect a game that never gives you any new abilities; Klonoa truly does two things, but the game iterates on these so well, trickles new situations in with ease, and carefully disguises the fact that it's a puzzle platformer at heart.

Klonoa, in many ways, reminds me of Osamu Tezuka's "Unico" films. Unico is a unicorn so precious and preternaturally good the Gods became jealous, and cursed him to the Hill of Oblivion. The West Wind, who is tasked with sending him there, balks at the idea of doing something so cruel and instead deposits him somewhere remote on Earth where the Gods cannot find him. Because Unico is so kindhearted, though, he inevitably reveals himself by bringing happiness to those he meets, and The West Wind must whisk him away to somewhere else right as he finds happiness for himself.

Klonoa, similarly, exists as a flash of brilliance. He arrives, shines, and must leave. His playing an active role inevitably dooms him to unhappiness, to casting away his friends and memories so he can share his gift with the greater world.

Door to Phantomile is obviously analogous with childhood. Klonoa's life until now, however false it might be, exists as a dream. He lives with his benevolent grandfather and gets to spend every day with his best friend Huepow. His halcyon days are disquieted by the coming of a primordial nightmare.

In many ways, that nightmare, Ghadius, is right. A person cannot live in a idyllic dream forever. Those dark parts, the badness, will naturally seep in. And a child is best equipped to deal with this if they know what to expect, if they have people around them to support them and hoist them up. A child is weak and lost on its own, but truly blossoms when they confront these challenges head on.

Door to Phantomile is not only a game about killing the inner child, but one of preserving its corpse. Remembering what it was like to spread your legs for the first time, to smell the fresh air of youth. These memories may only be impressionistic - an image, a sound, a taste - and they may not even be real. But these memories are genetic imperatives, and they're what presses us to survive on.

If Door to Phantomile explores childhood, then Lunatea's Veil is adolescence; Klonoa must deal with the greys of life, the unsureness of purpose, the weight of the emotions around him. As a duology, nothing captures the tragedy of immaturity quite like Klonoa. They're proof that stories don't have to be complex to be essential; in fact, the simplest stories might be the ones that stay with us the most. For me, at least, the final frame of Door to Phantomile might be one of the most haunting of any game: After toiling against destiny to keep Klonoa with him, Huepow smiles as the dream fades, forgotten already. Despite this, Klonoa's resonance remains...

Also, Klonoa and Huepow are boyfriends. This is basically textual