Note: I have currently only played the ‘Sunny’ route.
Spoiler warning for many parts of this review, though I avoid any major plot twists/details.
15 minutes have passed since I’ve finished Omori, and the experience has left me emotionally exhausted, to say the least. More-so than any other piece of media. That’s saying a lot, too, because I’ve always tended towards very heavy stories (LISA and Bojack Horseman being two of my favorites.)
In a way, this game is soul-crushing. But it is worth every second of it.
At its core, Omori is about loss, escapism, change, forgiveness, and love. It’s about shared trauma and grief. It’s about opening up to the world again, after you’ve hurt for so long. It focuses on these topics that video games rarely attempt to approach, and even more rarely approach well.
It’s not often that something touches me in such a personal and powerful way, either - in a way that I know I’ll remember and cherish even a decade later. Omori has undoubtedly become one of those few. For that alone, I cannot recommend it enough.
SHORT REVIEW
Visuals: 5/5
Sound: 5.5/5
Story: 5.5/5
Gameplay: 4.5/5
Worldbuilding: 5.5/5
Achievements (Does not count toward overall score.): 4/5
Overall Score: 5/5 [5.2/5]
IN-DEPTH REVIEW
Visuals:
The storytelling starts with its visuals.
You awaken in a stark white room, with only a few black objects to keep you company - a laptop, a sketchbook, a box of tissues, a cat, a door, and a lightbulb. You - the titular Omori - are in black and white too. If you travel too far from this area, you will be caught and teleported back by red floating hands.
Once you exit through the door, you will venture into a dreamscape known as Headspace. This world is blanketed in beautiful pastel palettes, an insane contrast from the simple White Space you resided in just moments before. It’s filled with zany characters, each of which are unique, even the ones with only a single line of dialogue. The enemies range from cutesy bunnies, to living food, to cutesy bunnies with food strapped to them, to lots of creatures cleverly designed around puns.
Furthermore, each discrete setting within Headspace stands out for its individual color scheme, architecture, nature, and weather. The moon setting - Otherworld - is largely purple, with bright trees and red-tinted water; antennas and tourists’ cars litter the area. Meanwhile, the Pyrefly Forest is covered in countless plants and a thick blanket of fog; you use a desolate minecart to traverse through its lonely depths.
Then there’s the elegant, but sickly sweet, design of Sweetheart’s gaudily pink castle. Or take the man-made, yet gut-instinct disturbing, vastness of the Underwater Highway. Each place is so distinctive in its features that they all feel like a completely different game. You never feel like you’re visiting the same one twice, and you never find yourself tired of investigating wherever you currently are.
Combine those endlessly interesting locations with the aforementioned inventive character design, and you’ve got a perfect setting to explore - especially when your main cast is a group of children. Each location feels exactly like a place a kid would wish to explore with his friends. Each being that resides here feels exactly like someone a kid would dream up.
And the best part is that many of these ideas are drawing inspiration from ‘Omori’s’ real life; there are lots of neat little details for you to notice throughout your playthrough, such as his stuffed animals taking life in Headspace.
And although some people might think that the overworld’s RPGMaker pixel style is rather generic, Omori sets itself apart by including beautiful handmade drawings within. Each main character has multiple portraits, all of which are cute and emotive. Many simple, but impactful, cutscenes are scattered throughout the game. Each of the battles include gorgeous enemy art. The style of it all is so charming; there’s just the right touch of childishness to make it a perfect fit.
But then, there’s an entirely different setting for you to sink your teeth into. It’s one that stands in stark opposition to Headspace.
Faraway Town - AKA the real world, where Omori’s real self, Sunny, resides - is much more grounded. It has realistic colors, same-y houses, and pragmatic (though still cute) character design. And although it’s much more bland than the eccentricity of Headspace, it serves a great purpose in its own way - after all, Headspace stands out all the more for Faraway Town’s existence.
I’d go so far as to say that its slight dullness reinforces how alluring escapism like Sunny’s can be, at least to a certain extent. Although his habits are mainly rooted in fear and guilt rather than boredom, I can empathize with how appealing it would seem to live in a land full of neon and endless fun, as opposed to a small town with little to do. In his eyes, here’s not much for the world outside his house to offer besides painful reminders. If that’s the case, why even bother?
To top it all off, overlaying the already superb visual design is the formidable horror imagery. The scary visions can range from creepy or unsettling to downright disturbing. Once Omori’s Yume Nikki inspiration swings into full gear, there’s no going back. The monsters and dark environments are terrifying, and there’s lots of equally terrifying symbolism to accompany them.
I was surprised how far the game pushed its boundaries, especially in the last act. There’s something truly hypnotizing about how masterfully the darker elements are handled. And, better yet, they’re always kept at bay until the perfect moment to strike.
Overall, 5/5.
Sound:
The Omori soundtrack utilizes all kinds of different tones, instruments, and genres to create something exceptional. It ranges from calming pieces that make heavy use of acoustic, woodwind, and piano, to upbeat tunes that incorporate styles such as jazz or electronic - with lots more to discover in-between. I particularly appreciate how many of Headspace’s songs are dream-like themselves, with distortion, whistling, or a slow pace. They have a true sense of disconnection from reality. While it sounds discomforting on paper, it’s actually quite the opposite; it feels like you’re in a safe environment, with people who care about you.
And on the other side of the spectrum are the aforementioned upbeat tunes. These tracks reflect a childlike sense of wonder and fun, encouraging you to explore the fascinating world around you. They enforce the idea that the main characters are going on an exciting journey, all while strengthening their bonds with one another.
Then, there’s the truly magnificent boss themes. These blood-pumping, adrenaline-inducing pieces make every big fight feel not only important, but unique, too. Two in particular (GOLDENVENGEANCE and BREADY STEADY GO) have become some of my favorites.
Often, while writing a review, I will relisten to the game's soundtrack to set the mood; in the case of Omori, I was impressed by how well this one stuck with me. I not only remembered much of the music, but I could place a lot of it to its exact in-game location or event. All of it just fits their intended mood so perfectly.
The soundtrack for Omori is truly special. It’s one of my new favorites, and one that I think deserves a lot more love and attention.
Overall, 5.5/5.
Story:
(Spoiler warning for this whole section.)
Underneath all of that perfect presentation, Omori is a game built on its characters and their relationships.
The dual protagonists rarely - if ever - speak a word. A lot of their personality is entirely based on player observation, and how their friends talk to/about them. They’re closed off. They’re quiet. They’re undoubtedly a follower, not a leader.
And yet, you find yourself taking control of this black sheep of the cast. Not the boisterous and plucky Kel. Not the determined and tough Aubrey. Not the kind and leaderly Hero. Not even the shy but creative Basil. Sunny/Omori are just about the last of the group with the personality of a main character. But that’s what makes this story all the more fantastic.
As you slowly unravel what has made Sunny so closed off, you realize that all of his supposed apathy is nothing more than a facade. He is far from a silent, personality-void protagonist for you to project onto - even if you can choose his name. Rather, his trauma and guilt have caused him to withdraw from the people who love him, and from the world outside his house.
You are, quite literally, in the head of a broken, miserable boy, with no idea of how to cope with his past misgivings. A boy who has built a dream world full of life, color, and friendship to hide away the dark truth plaguing his mind. A boy who thoroughly believes he is undeserving of real happiness or forgiveness. This is what makes Omori one of the most powerful stories I’ve ever had the opportunity to witness - and it all starts with the breakdown of the ‘generic’ silent protag.
But it goes even deeper than that. Sunny and Omori are intertwined with each other deeply, cut from the same cloth - but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re the same person. Omori began as a shell for Sunny to fill, a vessel to hide within. But as time passed, he became something much more sinister. He became something Sunny can’t control - a blight on Sunny’s own mind, a manifestation of his regret, hatred, and fear.
Eventually, Omori becomes autonomous and attempts to stop you from discovering the truth. Your own protagonist turns on you, no longer a projection of Sunny himself… and yet, in a way, he remains just that. Omori wants to stop Sunny from reliving what he’s done. He wants to fulfill the goal that Sunny himself would have done anything to fulfill in the past - of keeping his mistakes hidden, and Headspace untouched.
This is, truly, one of the most powerful arcs I’ve ever experienced in a video game. The duality of these protagonists - while remaining undoubtedly tied to each other at their core - is genius writing. There is so much depth in Sunny/Omori, and it is executed with next to no dialogue from either of them.
And surrounding them are their aforementioned friends, both the real-world versions and their permanently young Headspace counterparts. The intense analysis doesn’t stop with the protagonist - each main character paints a unique illustration of how people deal with heavy trauma, especially as children. Sunny locked himself away from everyone and everything. Kel threw himself into social activities and sports as a distraction. Aubrey became angry at the world and ‘toughened up’. Hero fell into a deep depression and gave up his dream of being a chef. Basil became much more anxious and socially withdrawn. Every one of them were forced to grow up way too soon.
And years later, they continue to be haunted by the shadow of Mari’s death; it permeates their personalities and temperaments. There is a genuine sense of loss and disconnect because of the absence of their friend… but there’s also a genuine sense of love between each character, and in each individual relationship. I’ve never seen shared trauma captured so perfectly; there are so many moments of tender sadness and grief. These people cannot be around one another without constant reminders of Mari’s tragedy. It’s a terribly heartbreaking story, one that unfortunately rings true for these types of experiences. To be able to properly move on and be in their best friends’ lives again, they will have to finally accept the past, and forgive themselves and each other.
Ultimately, this fantastic storytelling is achieved by the most natural, well-written dialogue and character interactions I’ve ever read. This is especially impressive when you remember that the main cast are all children, a demographic that most media - but especially video games - can’t seem to do justice. Everything from the heartbreakingly depressing moments, to the hilarious and lighthearted ones are done perfectly.
The brilliant writing even extends into the side content. Although it is ultimately more low-stakes and forgettable when compared to the overarching plot, there are many cute and funny little tasks for you to complete.
But what really makes that portion of Omori stand out is how the real-world objectives are worked into the main story in a small - but incredibly powerful - way. It’s rare that I come out of a game feeling like the side content ended up mattering. Here, though, that seemingly menial gameplay presented me with an even more touching ending.
You see, when Sunny wakes up in the hospital, he is surrounded by flowers and notes from the townsfolk he’s helped. Many of these people are near-strangers, but he’s shown genuine care by them because of his own kindness. He’s avoided any sort of real love for years - yet now he is overwhelmed with it. This display of appreciation from NPCs was the best possible reward I could’ve asked for as a player. It was so poignant when paired with the story of a self-loathing recluse opening up again.
That’s not all that makes the final act astounding, of course. All of the brilliantly thoughtful writing, pacing, and character work culminate into something truly breathtaking. This now rivals LISA as my favorite game ending, which is the highest compliment I can give. Every story beat lands perfectly - from the horrifically disturbing and abstract, to the powerfully sentimental and heart-wrenching. And the music and visuals tie it all together into a perfectly-executed package. Even thinking about it now, I wish I could relive the experience. I’d love to be able to rediscover Omori’s story and messages all over again. It’s truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Overall, 5.5/5.
Gameplay:
At first glance, Omori’s gameplay doesn’t seem like anything special. In actuality, though, there are many facets of its rather simple turn-based combat that make it surprisingly unique.
Take, for example, the emotions system. Both your party members and enemies can become happy, sad, or angry through skills, attacks, or items. These each provide their own unique stat modifications (such as angry raising attack, but lowering defense.) On top of that, these act almost like Pokemon starter types - each are more effective against another emotion, providing you with the chance to deal more damage if you plan around them.
I honestly didn’t like this component of the combat at first, because I felt like it was just a throwaway idea that wouldn’t actually change the way I played the game much. I figured I would brute force my way through the game whether emotions were there or not. But I was dead wrong. I quickly discovered that this system has the potential for lots of really neat combos and strategies; not to mention that many of your party members’ skills rely on utilizing the emotions to reach their maximum potential. You are constantly encouraged to explore these ideas and learn, instead of just spamming attacks.
In fact, the emotions are what end up making the boss fights stand out mechanics-wise. None of them have super unique or memorable attacks, but many use the emotions in very interesting and distinctive ways - some of them will become permanently happy, sad, or angry, while others will affect your party members’ emotions.
Another important aspect of the combat is the energy system. Through this, whenever a member of your party takes damage, you will charge up a shared energy bar by one point (up to a maximum of ten.) You can then use some of this energy when a party member performs a basic attack - doing so will execute one of three abilities unique to them, each of which incorporate another party member. There are many possible helpful effects through this, such as healing, applying emotions, and dealing tons of damage in a single turn. But what really makes this a genius idea is that it provides some small, dialogue-less character moments to strengthen the gang’s dynamics through mechanics.
Of course, I’d be remiss not to discuss my one gripe with the gameplay… the overworld encounters. I am decidedly not a fan of this trope, like many others out there. It’s outdated, repetitive, and annoying. It’s the reason I became tired of Pokemon.
But, to be fair, it’s not at its worst in Omori. You can often run past enemies or escape fights without a problem. Not much grinding is needed, either; bosses are satisfyingly difficult, but never impossible. I think the sacrifice of including this is worth it for everything that builds upon it (such as the bosses and leveling system.) Still, this is an annoying little aspect of the turn-based genre. It deserves to be talked about at some level in this review, even if it’s far from its most egregious here.
Speaking of, Omori’s leveling system is one of my favorites I’ve ever seen. Each party member has four skill slots; instead of having to ‘forget’ skills like in Pokemon, you can simply switch between what you’ve learned in a menu (outside of combat.) This allows you to set up your team for specific fights, create your own synergies, or just pick and choose between which skills seem the most fun. It’s very engaging gameplay, and much less stressful than being forced to make a permanent choice that you may regret.
The stats system and items are great, too. Everything is kept simple and clear-cut. There’s no pressure on you to put points into anything (again, avoiding the stress of permanent choices.) You instead come across items and character-specific weapons as you explore, which you can equip and switch between at your leisure. And each party member has their own strengths that grow naturally as they level up - but there’s still room for creativity, given that you can choose to either overpower that stat, or make up for their weaknesses.
These creative systems, RPG elements, and the excellent visual/audio presentation add up to some very entertaining combat. Despite there being four set characters who all have obvious strengths, there’s a surprising amount of freedom in the possible combos and strategies.
In fact, the only time I feel like the combat DOESN’T work is during the real-world segments. The usual freedom is stripped away to make the fights very basic. It’s understandable, since these parts have to be more grounded in reality - but it unfortunately just isn’t as fun. Still, I can’t complain too much. The combat is sporadic in Faraway town, with its gameplay instead focusing heavily on side tasks. Plus, you get to see the cute combat portraits for everyone, which makes it worth it.
Those side tasks are another fairly important element of Omori’s gameplay. While you have the option to completely ignore them, they do add a lot of flavor to both worlds. It’s not incredibly groundbreaking content, but many of them have cute or funny premises to keep you engaged. You often will stumble upon these randomly during your journey, which I think is the best way to do it in a game like this. There’s no pressure on you to complete them, there’s no ridiculous amount of backtracking, and there’s no repetitive fetch quests. They are not a burden on the player. They’re just some fun little things you get to do along the way.
Ultimately, there are lots of really cool and unique ideas in Omori’s mechanics that add extra layers to its simplistic core. Even if it’s not perfect, there’s so much love in it, and plenty of fun to be had. It’s a joy to play from beginning to end.
Overall, 4.5/5.
Worldbuilding:
As you’ve likely gathered at this point, there are many facets to Omori’s worldbuilding. Two completely separate settings make up the game - one of which has many smaller, distinct areas within it.
Headspace - a place of Sunny’s own creation - serves as a haven of childlike innocence, purity, and wonder. It’s a perfect representation of a child’s boundless imagination. The colorful visuals, inventive character design, fantastic music, and surreal ideas contained within make it a joy to explore. From a shoe-shaped house, to a human-shaped donut duchess, to a talking planet, there’s an endless stream of engaging concepts to keep your attention.
And as I previously discussed, many of the things Sunny uses to build this world have a basis in his reality. This packs the game with so many details to pick up on. There’s the obvious ones, of course, like many of the side cast members having Headspace counterparts. But there’s smaller ones, too. Dream Kel possesses a pet rock named after his real dog, Hector. The room the Headspace gang lives in is actually the real gang’s treehouse. There’s a character based on the real Kel’s favorite soda. The two settings are so perfectly interconnected.
The real world has its own surprising amount of content, too. Faraway town is small, but it's filled with people that have their own routines, motivations, and family. You get a small glimpse into each person's life through sidequests and dialogue. Each break from Headspace provided by Faraway Town makes exploring it again all the more refreshing, and vice versa.
Then, to tie it together, there are the incredibly striking horror elements. The symbolism and imagery are truly mind blowing at times. Omori is not afraid to fully embrace its dark side, despite revolving around a cast of children. In fact, there’s not many games I can think of that do psychological horror better. Every disturbing moment adds to the layers of Sunny’s character, Omori’s place in Sunny’s head, and Mari’s death.
The depth of Omori’s worlds, its characters, and their history together is so intricately connected and laid out. The game’s creativity and thoughtfulness demands your attention until the end, and maybe even well after.
Overall, 5.5/5.
Overall game score: 5/5. I’ve tried to express everything I love about Omori in this review, but there are so many things I could mention that it’d be impossible to address them all. In fact, there are a lot of aspects of this game that are near-impossible to describe with words. I can’t explain the heartache it makes me feel; I can’t put into words the fear it instills at points, just like I can’t the bittersweet happiness. The visuals, music, storytelling, humor, incredible attention to detail, and gameplay meld into a game I truly consider to be perfect - and it all leads to an explosive, perfectly-orchestrated final act. To fully understand why I hold so much love for Omori, you just have to play it for yourself.
Spoiler warning for many parts of this review, though I avoid any major plot twists/details.
15 minutes have passed since I’ve finished Omori, and the experience has left me emotionally exhausted, to say the least. More-so than any other piece of media. That’s saying a lot, too, because I’ve always tended towards very heavy stories (LISA and Bojack Horseman being two of my favorites.)
In a way, this game is soul-crushing. But it is worth every second of it.
At its core, Omori is about loss, escapism, change, forgiveness, and love. It’s about shared trauma and grief. It’s about opening up to the world again, after you’ve hurt for so long. It focuses on these topics that video games rarely attempt to approach, and even more rarely approach well.
It’s not often that something touches me in such a personal and powerful way, either - in a way that I know I’ll remember and cherish even a decade later. Omori has undoubtedly become one of those few. For that alone, I cannot recommend it enough.
SHORT REVIEW
Visuals: 5/5
Sound: 5.5/5
Story: 5.5/5
Gameplay: 4.5/5
Worldbuilding: 5.5/5
Achievements (Does not count toward overall score.): 4/5
Overall Score: 5/5 [5.2/5]
IN-DEPTH REVIEW
Visuals:
The storytelling starts with its visuals.
You awaken in a stark white room, with only a few black objects to keep you company - a laptop, a sketchbook, a box of tissues, a cat, a door, and a lightbulb. You - the titular Omori - are in black and white too. If you travel too far from this area, you will be caught and teleported back by red floating hands.
Once you exit through the door, you will venture into a dreamscape known as Headspace. This world is blanketed in beautiful pastel palettes, an insane contrast from the simple White Space you resided in just moments before. It’s filled with zany characters, each of which are unique, even the ones with only a single line of dialogue. The enemies range from cutesy bunnies, to living food, to cutesy bunnies with food strapped to them, to lots of creatures cleverly designed around puns.
Furthermore, each discrete setting within Headspace stands out for its individual color scheme, architecture, nature, and weather. The moon setting - Otherworld - is largely purple, with bright trees and red-tinted water; antennas and tourists’ cars litter the area. Meanwhile, the Pyrefly Forest is covered in countless plants and a thick blanket of fog; you use a desolate minecart to traverse through its lonely depths.
Then there’s the elegant, but sickly sweet, design of Sweetheart’s gaudily pink castle. Or take the man-made, yet gut-instinct disturbing, vastness of the Underwater Highway. Each place is so distinctive in its features that they all feel like a completely different game. You never feel like you’re visiting the same one twice, and you never find yourself tired of investigating wherever you currently are.
Combine those endlessly interesting locations with the aforementioned inventive character design, and you’ve got a perfect setting to explore - especially when your main cast is a group of children. Each location feels exactly like a place a kid would wish to explore with his friends. Each being that resides here feels exactly like someone a kid would dream up.
And the best part is that many of these ideas are drawing inspiration from ‘Omori’s’ real life; there are lots of neat little details for you to notice throughout your playthrough, such as his stuffed animals taking life in Headspace.
And although some people might think that the overworld’s RPGMaker pixel style is rather generic, Omori sets itself apart by including beautiful handmade drawings within. Each main character has multiple portraits, all of which are cute and emotive. Many simple, but impactful, cutscenes are scattered throughout the game. Each of the battles include gorgeous enemy art. The style of it all is so charming; there’s just the right touch of childishness to make it a perfect fit.
But then, there’s an entirely different setting for you to sink your teeth into. It’s one that stands in stark opposition to Headspace.
Faraway Town - AKA the real world, where Omori’s real self, Sunny, resides - is much more grounded. It has realistic colors, same-y houses, and pragmatic (though still cute) character design. And although it’s much more bland than the eccentricity of Headspace, it serves a great purpose in its own way - after all, Headspace stands out all the more for Faraway Town’s existence.
I’d go so far as to say that its slight dullness reinforces how alluring escapism like Sunny’s can be, at least to a certain extent. Although his habits are mainly rooted in fear and guilt rather than boredom, I can empathize with how appealing it would seem to live in a land full of neon and endless fun, as opposed to a small town with little to do. In his eyes, here’s not much for the world outside his house to offer besides painful reminders. If that’s the case, why even bother?
To top it all off, overlaying the already superb visual design is the formidable horror imagery. The scary visions can range from creepy or unsettling to downright disturbing. Once Omori’s Yume Nikki inspiration swings into full gear, there’s no going back. The monsters and dark environments are terrifying, and there’s lots of equally terrifying symbolism to accompany them.
I was surprised how far the game pushed its boundaries, especially in the last act. There’s something truly hypnotizing about how masterfully the darker elements are handled. And, better yet, they’re always kept at bay until the perfect moment to strike.
Overall, 5/5.
Sound:
The Omori soundtrack utilizes all kinds of different tones, instruments, and genres to create something exceptional. It ranges from calming pieces that make heavy use of acoustic, woodwind, and piano, to upbeat tunes that incorporate styles such as jazz or electronic - with lots more to discover in-between. I particularly appreciate how many of Headspace’s songs are dream-like themselves, with distortion, whistling, or a slow pace. They have a true sense of disconnection from reality. While it sounds discomforting on paper, it’s actually quite the opposite; it feels like you’re in a safe environment, with people who care about you.
And on the other side of the spectrum are the aforementioned upbeat tunes. These tracks reflect a childlike sense of wonder and fun, encouraging you to explore the fascinating world around you. They enforce the idea that the main characters are going on an exciting journey, all while strengthening their bonds with one another.
Then, there’s the truly magnificent boss themes. These blood-pumping, adrenaline-inducing pieces make every big fight feel not only important, but unique, too. Two in particular (GOLDENVENGEANCE and BREADY STEADY GO) have become some of my favorites.
Often, while writing a review, I will relisten to the game's soundtrack to set the mood; in the case of Omori, I was impressed by how well this one stuck with me. I not only remembered much of the music, but I could place a lot of it to its exact in-game location or event. All of it just fits their intended mood so perfectly.
The soundtrack for Omori is truly special. It’s one of my new favorites, and one that I think deserves a lot more love and attention.
Overall, 5.5/5.
Story:
(Spoiler warning for this whole section.)
Underneath all of that perfect presentation, Omori is a game built on its characters and their relationships.
The dual protagonists rarely - if ever - speak a word. A lot of their personality is entirely based on player observation, and how their friends talk to/about them. They’re closed off. They’re quiet. They’re undoubtedly a follower, not a leader.
And yet, you find yourself taking control of this black sheep of the cast. Not the boisterous and plucky Kel. Not the determined and tough Aubrey. Not the kind and leaderly Hero. Not even the shy but creative Basil. Sunny/Omori are just about the last of the group with the personality of a main character. But that’s what makes this story all the more fantastic.
As you slowly unravel what has made Sunny so closed off, you realize that all of his supposed apathy is nothing more than a facade. He is far from a silent, personality-void protagonist for you to project onto - even if you can choose his name. Rather, his trauma and guilt have caused him to withdraw from the people who love him, and from the world outside his house.
You are, quite literally, in the head of a broken, miserable boy, with no idea of how to cope with his past misgivings. A boy who has built a dream world full of life, color, and friendship to hide away the dark truth plaguing his mind. A boy who thoroughly believes he is undeserving of real happiness or forgiveness. This is what makes Omori one of the most powerful stories I’ve ever had the opportunity to witness - and it all starts with the breakdown of the ‘generic’ silent protag.
But it goes even deeper than that. Sunny and Omori are intertwined with each other deeply, cut from the same cloth - but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re the same person. Omori began as a shell for Sunny to fill, a vessel to hide within. But as time passed, he became something much more sinister. He became something Sunny can’t control - a blight on Sunny’s own mind, a manifestation of his regret, hatred, and fear.
Eventually, Omori becomes autonomous and attempts to stop you from discovering the truth. Your own protagonist turns on you, no longer a projection of Sunny himself… and yet, in a way, he remains just that. Omori wants to stop Sunny from reliving what he’s done. He wants to fulfill the goal that Sunny himself would have done anything to fulfill in the past - of keeping his mistakes hidden, and Headspace untouched.
This is, truly, one of the most powerful arcs I’ve ever experienced in a video game. The duality of these protagonists - while remaining undoubtedly tied to each other at their core - is genius writing. There is so much depth in Sunny/Omori, and it is executed with next to no dialogue from either of them.
And surrounding them are their aforementioned friends, both the real-world versions and their permanently young Headspace counterparts. The intense analysis doesn’t stop with the protagonist - each main character paints a unique illustration of how people deal with heavy trauma, especially as children. Sunny locked himself away from everyone and everything. Kel threw himself into social activities and sports as a distraction. Aubrey became angry at the world and ‘toughened up’. Hero fell into a deep depression and gave up his dream of being a chef. Basil became much more anxious and socially withdrawn. Every one of them were forced to grow up way too soon.
And years later, they continue to be haunted by the shadow of Mari’s death; it permeates their personalities and temperaments. There is a genuine sense of loss and disconnect because of the absence of their friend… but there’s also a genuine sense of love between each character, and in each individual relationship. I’ve never seen shared trauma captured so perfectly; there are so many moments of tender sadness and grief. These people cannot be around one another without constant reminders of Mari’s tragedy. It’s a terribly heartbreaking story, one that unfortunately rings true for these types of experiences. To be able to properly move on and be in their best friends’ lives again, they will have to finally accept the past, and forgive themselves and each other.
Ultimately, this fantastic storytelling is achieved by the most natural, well-written dialogue and character interactions I’ve ever read. This is especially impressive when you remember that the main cast are all children, a demographic that most media - but especially video games - can’t seem to do justice. Everything from the heartbreakingly depressing moments, to the hilarious and lighthearted ones are done perfectly.
The brilliant writing even extends into the side content. Although it is ultimately more low-stakes and forgettable when compared to the overarching plot, there are many cute and funny little tasks for you to complete.
But what really makes that portion of Omori stand out is how the real-world objectives are worked into the main story in a small - but incredibly powerful - way. It’s rare that I come out of a game feeling like the side content ended up mattering. Here, though, that seemingly menial gameplay presented me with an even more touching ending.
You see, when Sunny wakes up in the hospital, he is surrounded by flowers and notes from the townsfolk he’s helped. Many of these people are near-strangers, but he’s shown genuine care by them because of his own kindness. He’s avoided any sort of real love for years - yet now he is overwhelmed with it. This display of appreciation from NPCs was the best possible reward I could’ve asked for as a player. It was so poignant when paired with the story of a self-loathing recluse opening up again.
That’s not all that makes the final act astounding, of course. All of the brilliantly thoughtful writing, pacing, and character work culminate into something truly breathtaking. This now rivals LISA as my favorite game ending, which is the highest compliment I can give. Every story beat lands perfectly - from the horrifically disturbing and abstract, to the powerfully sentimental and heart-wrenching. And the music and visuals tie it all together into a perfectly-executed package. Even thinking about it now, I wish I could relive the experience. I’d love to be able to rediscover Omori’s story and messages all over again. It’s truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Overall, 5.5/5.
Gameplay:
At first glance, Omori’s gameplay doesn’t seem like anything special. In actuality, though, there are many facets of its rather simple turn-based combat that make it surprisingly unique.
Take, for example, the emotions system. Both your party members and enemies can become happy, sad, or angry through skills, attacks, or items. These each provide their own unique stat modifications (such as angry raising attack, but lowering defense.) On top of that, these act almost like Pokemon starter types - each are more effective against another emotion, providing you with the chance to deal more damage if you plan around them.
I honestly didn’t like this component of the combat at first, because I felt like it was just a throwaway idea that wouldn’t actually change the way I played the game much. I figured I would brute force my way through the game whether emotions were there or not. But I was dead wrong. I quickly discovered that this system has the potential for lots of really neat combos and strategies; not to mention that many of your party members’ skills rely on utilizing the emotions to reach their maximum potential. You are constantly encouraged to explore these ideas and learn, instead of just spamming attacks.
In fact, the emotions are what end up making the boss fights stand out mechanics-wise. None of them have super unique or memorable attacks, but many use the emotions in very interesting and distinctive ways - some of them will become permanently happy, sad, or angry, while others will affect your party members’ emotions.
Another important aspect of the combat is the energy system. Through this, whenever a member of your party takes damage, you will charge up a shared energy bar by one point (up to a maximum of ten.) You can then use some of this energy when a party member performs a basic attack - doing so will execute one of three abilities unique to them, each of which incorporate another party member. There are many possible helpful effects through this, such as healing, applying emotions, and dealing tons of damage in a single turn. But what really makes this a genius idea is that it provides some small, dialogue-less character moments to strengthen the gang’s dynamics through mechanics.
Of course, I’d be remiss not to discuss my one gripe with the gameplay… the overworld encounters. I am decidedly not a fan of this trope, like many others out there. It’s outdated, repetitive, and annoying. It’s the reason I became tired of Pokemon.
But, to be fair, it’s not at its worst in Omori. You can often run past enemies or escape fights without a problem. Not much grinding is needed, either; bosses are satisfyingly difficult, but never impossible. I think the sacrifice of including this is worth it for everything that builds upon it (such as the bosses and leveling system.) Still, this is an annoying little aspect of the turn-based genre. It deserves to be talked about at some level in this review, even if it’s far from its most egregious here.
Speaking of, Omori’s leveling system is one of my favorites I’ve ever seen. Each party member has four skill slots; instead of having to ‘forget’ skills like in Pokemon, you can simply switch between what you’ve learned in a menu (outside of combat.) This allows you to set up your team for specific fights, create your own synergies, or just pick and choose between which skills seem the most fun. It’s very engaging gameplay, and much less stressful than being forced to make a permanent choice that you may regret.
The stats system and items are great, too. Everything is kept simple and clear-cut. There’s no pressure on you to put points into anything (again, avoiding the stress of permanent choices.) You instead come across items and character-specific weapons as you explore, which you can equip and switch between at your leisure. And each party member has their own strengths that grow naturally as they level up - but there’s still room for creativity, given that you can choose to either overpower that stat, or make up for their weaknesses.
These creative systems, RPG elements, and the excellent visual/audio presentation add up to some very entertaining combat. Despite there being four set characters who all have obvious strengths, there’s a surprising amount of freedom in the possible combos and strategies.
In fact, the only time I feel like the combat DOESN’T work is during the real-world segments. The usual freedom is stripped away to make the fights very basic. It’s understandable, since these parts have to be more grounded in reality - but it unfortunately just isn’t as fun. Still, I can’t complain too much. The combat is sporadic in Faraway town, with its gameplay instead focusing heavily on side tasks. Plus, you get to see the cute combat portraits for everyone, which makes it worth it.
Those side tasks are another fairly important element of Omori’s gameplay. While you have the option to completely ignore them, they do add a lot of flavor to both worlds. It’s not incredibly groundbreaking content, but many of them have cute or funny premises to keep you engaged. You often will stumble upon these randomly during your journey, which I think is the best way to do it in a game like this. There’s no pressure on you to complete them, there’s no ridiculous amount of backtracking, and there’s no repetitive fetch quests. They are not a burden on the player. They’re just some fun little things you get to do along the way.
Ultimately, there are lots of really cool and unique ideas in Omori’s mechanics that add extra layers to its simplistic core. Even if it’s not perfect, there’s so much love in it, and plenty of fun to be had. It’s a joy to play from beginning to end.
Overall, 4.5/5.
Worldbuilding:
As you’ve likely gathered at this point, there are many facets to Omori’s worldbuilding. Two completely separate settings make up the game - one of which has many smaller, distinct areas within it.
Headspace - a place of Sunny’s own creation - serves as a haven of childlike innocence, purity, and wonder. It’s a perfect representation of a child’s boundless imagination. The colorful visuals, inventive character design, fantastic music, and surreal ideas contained within make it a joy to explore. From a shoe-shaped house, to a human-shaped donut duchess, to a talking planet, there’s an endless stream of engaging concepts to keep your attention.
And as I previously discussed, many of the things Sunny uses to build this world have a basis in his reality. This packs the game with so many details to pick up on. There’s the obvious ones, of course, like many of the side cast members having Headspace counterparts. But there’s smaller ones, too. Dream Kel possesses a pet rock named after his real dog, Hector. The room the Headspace gang lives in is actually the real gang’s treehouse. There’s a character based on the real Kel’s favorite soda. The two settings are so perfectly interconnected.
The real world has its own surprising amount of content, too. Faraway town is small, but it's filled with people that have their own routines, motivations, and family. You get a small glimpse into each person's life through sidequests and dialogue. Each break from Headspace provided by Faraway Town makes exploring it again all the more refreshing, and vice versa.
Then, to tie it together, there are the incredibly striking horror elements. The symbolism and imagery are truly mind blowing at times. Omori is not afraid to fully embrace its dark side, despite revolving around a cast of children. In fact, there’s not many games I can think of that do psychological horror better. Every disturbing moment adds to the layers of Sunny’s character, Omori’s place in Sunny’s head, and Mari’s death.
The depth of Omori’s worlds, its characters, and their history together is so intricately connected and laid out. The game’s creativity and thoughtfulness demands your attention until the end, and maybe even well after.
Overall, 5.5/5.
Overall game score: 5/5. I’ve tried to express everything I love about Omori in this review, but there are so many things I could mention that it’d be impossible to address them all. In fact, there are a lot of aspects of this game that are near-impossible to describe with words. I can’t explain the heartache it makes me feel; I can’t put into words the fear it instills at points, just like I can’t the bittersweet happiness. The visuals, music, storytelling, humor, incredible attention to detail, and gameplay meld into a game I truly consider to be perfect - and it all leads to an explosive, perfectly-orchestrated final act. To fully understand why I hold so much love for Omori, you just have to play it for yourself.