There’s a certain kind of magic that only a handful of games manage to capture, the feeling of being wrapped in a warm blanket while exploring a world full of imagination, kindness, and quiet wonder. Asfalia: Panic at the Mansion is exactly that kind of experience. It doesn’t try to overwhelm you with mechanics, difficulty, or spectacle. Instead, it invites you into a hand‑painted storybook world where charm, humour, and heart take centre stage.

This is a game that understands something important: sometimes, the best adventures don’t need explosions, they just need soul.

Charming and relaxed in every aspect

You play as Charlie, a child exploring the magical land of Asfalia, a world shaped by emotions, imagination, and feelings. When a storm frightens Charlie’s puppies and sends them scattering across the mansion and its surrounding realms, the journey becomes a gentle quest to find them, one that feels less like a heroic mission and more like an emotional journey through fear, courage, and comfort.

Rather than relying on traditional conflict, Asfalia focuses on emotional stakes: calming fears, helping strange characters with simple problems, and restoring a sense of peace to a world that feels shaken by something dark and unknown.

There’s a softness to the narrative that feels rare in games. It’s not trying to be epic or try to overburden you with tasks to ensure longevity. Usually games this cosy come under the ‘Life simulation’ tag such as Animal Crossing and Palia. Here Asfalia just wants players to experience the calm narrative and call it a day when it’s done.

From backgrounds to NPC’s , it’s cosy

Visually, the game is a delight. The art style feels like a mix between a children’s picture book and a whimsical animated film. Every area is painted with care, full of personality and warmth, and the character designs are wonderfully odd in the best possible way. Playing Asfalia is like watching a cartoon as a kid on a rainy autumn Sunday morning.

Gameplay is very accessible. The puzzles are light, intuitive, and designed to add to the story. You won’t find complex logic chains or frustration here and that’s by all means not a flaw. It may come off as only a children’s game but Asfalia is more than that. If Lo-Fi study playlists consisted of games Asfalia would be on it, perfect for relaxed sessions.

The sound design and music reinforce the game’s cosy tone. The soundtrack never demands attention, it gently supports the mood, creating a calm emotional space that makes the game feel safe and comforting. It’s the kind of audio design that’s subtle enough and works so well that players wont notice it often but will smile when they do.

My Conclusion

Asfalia: Panic at the Mansion feels like a soft story that invites players in for relaxed play sessions whether it’s a long train ride or a cosy evening in. There are plenty of massive games with 100’s hours off action and countless side quests. How about a game about fear, comfort, imagination, and kindness, told through a beautifully crafted world full of heart and creativity.

Asfalia: Panic at the Mansion is available now on Windows PC and Nintendo Switch

There’s a very specific itch that tactical RPG fans have, the kind that only gets scratched when positioning matters, mistakes are punished, and victories feel earned rather than handed out. Lost Eidolons: Veil of the Witch didn’t just scratch that itch for me, it dug in and refused to let go. As someone who loves the XCOM combat, especially in recent titles like WarTales. I went into this game curious, maybe a little sceptical, about how well that formula would translate into a roguelite structure. I came out thoroughly satisfied.

Tactical rouglite, how does it fair?

At its core, Veil of the Witch understands what makes grid-based tactical combat compelling. Movement is deliberate. Line of sight matters. Terrain matters. Flanking isn’t optional, it’s survival. Every encounter feels like a small puzzle where the solution isn’t always obvious until you’ve already committed to a risky move. That tension, that moment of hovering your cursor over a tile and asking “can I survive this?” is pure XCOM energy, and the game absolutely nails it.

What surprised me most was how naturally that combat fits into a roguelite loop. Altough you will not lose characters if they die during a run, mistakes are still devestating. Poor position in the first battles means that most resources and rewards will be used to recover your party and hindering battles to come.Although since runs are temporary and players to dont lose anything ‘external’, the game encourages experimentation. You’re not hoarding items “just in case.” You’re adapting on the fly reshaping your squad, your builds, and your strategy based on what the game throws at you. That adaptability is deeply satisfying when paired with combat systems that reward smart positioning and synergy over raw stats.

Losing runs doesnt mean starting from scratch

Each character brings something meaningful to the battlefield. Tanks aren’t just damage sponges they’re zone controllers. Ranged units feel vulnerable but powerful when properly protected. Support characters genuinely matter, especially in longer fights where resource economy and survivability start to spiral out of control. This is where the XCOM inspiration shines brightest: winning isn’t about wiping the enemy quickly, it’s about controlling the flow of combat as well as mitigating damages.

The roguelite progression also deserves credit for respecting the player’s time. Failure doesn’t feel like a reset button, it feels like feedback. You learn what went wrong, unlock new options, and head back in with a slightly stronger foundation and a much sharper plan. That constant forward momentum kept me engaged far longer than I expected. Even losing runs felt productive, which is exactly what a good roguelite should accomplish.

What’s surrounds the gameplay?

Narratively, the game keeps things restrained but intriguing. The mysterious Witch, the cursed island, and the fragmented memories all serve as atmospheric glue rather than intricate exposition. I appreciated that the story never pulled focus away from the gameplay. It’s simply there to motivate the player, which feels like the right choice for a game so mechanically driven.

Visually and tonally, Veil of the Witch leans into a sombre, grounded fantasy aesthetic. It’s not flashy, but it doesn’t need to be. The clean readability of the battlefield takes priority, which is crucial in a tactics game where one misread tile or miss-click can potentially cost a good run. The games simplicity also deserves a mention. Heading into runs and navigating them is as simple as a couple clicks which makes it a fantastic game for handheld devices too.

My Conclusion

If I had to summarize my experience in one sentence, it would be this: Lost Eidolons: Veil of the Witch feels like a game made by people who understand why XCOM works, and wanted more of it. That combination won’t be for everyone, but for players that enjoy games such as XCOM or WarTales but without restarting the game because ‘you can do it better’. Those who enjoy calculated risks, tight tactical decision-making, and learning through failure, it’s an incredibly satisfying experience.

Lost Eidolons:Veil of the Witch is available now on Playstation 4/5 , XBOX’s, PC and Nintendo Switch

There’s a very specific kind of game that doesn’t care if you’re comfortable. It doesn’t ease you in, it doesn’t hold your hand, and it absolutely will let you fall for minutes at a time because you mistimed a jump by half a second. DeadCore Redux is proudly one of those games, and that’s exactly why it works.

This is a modernised return of DeadCore, a cult-favourite first-person platformer that I heard about alot yet never gave it a go until now. Redux doesn’t reinvent the experience so much as simply makes it better, sharpening graphics, music and and giving it the slight performance boost you’d want when split second reactions matter.

Hidden gem back on the radar

DeadCore Redux drops you into the void with almost no context. In front of you looms the Tower — impossibly tall, abstract, and faintly hostile. Your goal is simple: climb. How you do that is where the game shines.

Movement is the star here. You’re jumping, dashing, shooting mid air, changing gravity and chaining momentum in a way that feels closer to a speedrunner’s dream than a traditional FPS. The game’s physics reward confidence and experimentation; hesitation is punished with gravity or lasers. Usually both.

Death is part of the rhythm. You learn routes by failing them. You internalise timing by missing it. You will get better. I wouldn’t say DeadCore is that punishing, yes it is difficult but checkpoints never feel too far away, they’re also not too generous but just perfect. Getting good at timing your dashes and hitting switches mid air already feels great but then you turn the corner and see a checkpoint right there? Perfection.

One simple tool for so many complex mechanics

Your primary tool is the SwitchGun, a weapon that, well, triggers switches in the environment. From turning platforms, switching off barriers, switching gravity. It’s deceptively simple, but the way levels are designed around it creates the need for players to have a symbiotic relationship between speed and control. Do you stop to toggle safely, or shoot mid-air and hope your timing is perfect?

DeadCore’s level design leans hard into this question. Many areas feel less like “platforming challenges” and more like movement puzzles, where the correct solution is often to be faster, not safer. The best runs feel like improvisational jazz: messy at first, then suddenly flawless.

One of DeadCore’s biggest strengths is how openly it embraces speedrunning, without demanding it. Rankings, timers, badges, hidden routes, and secret collectables all encourage mastery, but never shut players off from progress. If getting through the game with any means necessary is the goal, go for it. But if you want to shave milliseconds off every section and chase perfect flow, the game fully supports you. This duality is rare. Many games have speedrunning communities and devs that support said communities but DeadCore was made for it.

My Conclusion

DeadCore Redux doesn’t chase trends. It doesn’t bloat itself with systems or dilute its identity. Instead, it doubles down on what it does best: pure, demanding first-person platforming with a razor-sharp focus on movement. And all that in a very affordable package.

It’s a game about learning how to navigate it, and then how to navigate it faster. When everything finally clicks, when you clear a section flawlessly, it feels incredible. Highly recommended for players who love challenge, flow, and the quiet thrill of doing something difficult well.

Service With a Shotgun is one of those rare indie games that feels like a fever dream, equal parts clever, absurd, charming, and occasionally rough around the edges. Developed by solo creator Nolyn Vansyckle and released on Steam in November 2025, this hybrid experience refuses to fit neatly into any one genre. It’s part visual novel, part wave-based shooter, and wholly committed to satirising the mundanity of retail work … even as the world literally collapses around you.

A wild concept that works, in a way

At first glance, Service With a Shotgun might sound like a novelty: you’re a retail clerk in an apocalypse, taking orders and chatting with customers during quiet moments, and blasting zombies with a shotgun mid conversation. This mash-up of genres, dialogue-heavy storytelling meets frantic shooting and survival, that rewards players that pay attention. Surprisingly it works really well and the first stage sets the grounds for a fantastic experience, but it won’t let you get used to it.

The charm of the game really lies in keeping a conversation with an NPC , that will ask you questions and react differently whether you were listening or not, and defending the gas station in between. As I mentioned, the first hour or so really sets the theme and nails it. The defence upgrades, managing ammo and money reserves, paying attention to the conversations and regular customers is all very exciting! But then Service with a shotgun switches it up.

I am as confused as the game is

Gameplay in Service With a Shotgun is deceptively simple, and stays simple across its five story chapters. You start by serving customers and learning the basics of the games loop, chat, defend, spend money, repeat. Ultimately that is the loop but every chapter is a new setting with a new problem at hand. Dragging characters through sewers, across the deserts and into bunkers. The characters however are the only thing that stays persistent which means your upgrades and cash don’t really matter at all.

That said, the game IS fun if simple and the story IS engaging even if the choices are limited. I wish whatever the game wanted to be in the first place continued. The solo developer was clearly trying out ideas which puts them on my radar for hopefully their next title.

Visually, Service With a Shotgun strikes a pleasing balance between pixel art and chaos.

My Conclusion

Service With a Shotgun isn’t flawless. MY biggest complaint is that I wish chapters were longer to make the games mechanics feel important. Still, the strengths, clever genre fusion, offbeat humour, bold creative vision really shine through. It’s a reminder that indie games can be weird, emotionally resonant, and genuinely entertaining without needing massive budgets or complex systems.

For players craving something different, a game that combines light storytelling, frantic shooting, and a darkly witty take on retail and survival then Service With a Shotgun is well worth your time. At its best, it’s a brilliantly bizarre love letter to indie game ambitions; at its worst, it’s still a fun little experiment that’s more satisfying than many high-budget titles could hope to be.

Sometimes you boot up a game knowing it’s not going to change your life, and that’s kind of the point. Fiz and the Rainbow Planet is exactly that sort of experience: a modest, earnest indie platformer that wears its heart on its sleeve and invites you along for a cozy, colorful journey.

Nostalgic, Vibrant and Charming

From the moment the game starts, Fiz and the Rainbow Planet makes its intentions clear. The pixel art is vibrant without being overwhelming, leaning heavily into bright colours and soft fantasy vibes. Dragons, floating platforms, glowing orbs, it’s straight out of the Gameboy Advance era and I mean that as a compliment.

You play as Fiz, a young dragon living on the cheerful Planet Longa. After a prophetic nightmare where the world loses its colour and life, Fiz is tasked with preventing that future from becoming reality. It’s a simple setup, but one that fits the game’s tone perfectly.

Simple yet effective

The design philosophy here is simplicity. Fiz and the Rainbow Planet is built around a very small control set, just a few buttons, and it sticks to that idea throughout. You move, jump, and switch between different dragon characters, each with their own abilities.

This character-switching is where most of the game’s puzzles and progression come from. You’re rarely asked to do anything mechanically complex; instead, the challenge comes from understanding who to use and when. It’s approachable, readable, and refreshingly low-stress.

One neat twist is the game’s use of perspective. Certain areas, called Dimensional Sanctuaries play with depth. Now it isn’t anything crazy by today’s standards. But it was a throwback to when games really experimented with inventive ways to stand out. I heard my inner child say Woah! the first time I turned the corner in this 2D platformer.

Platforming as simple as the narrative

This is not a precision platformer. Players are not bombarded with punishing jumps or fast-paced combat. Fiz is much more interested in exploration and atmosphere than raw mechanical skill.

Levels encourage you to wander, poke around, and enjoy the scenery. There’s a gentle rhythm to the game that makes it easy to relax into, almost meditative at times. That said, the pacing can occasionally feel uneven, especially if you’re eager to move on to the next area. Leaning into the relaxed vibes is the soundtrack. It’s pleasant, sometimes whimsical, and occasionally forgettable, but never grating. Sound design overall is serviceable, though clearly constrained by the game’s small budget.

Narratively, Fiz doesn’t try to be profound. The story is straightforward, delivered through brief interactions and environmental hints. It’s about protecting the world, believing in yourself, and stepping into responsibility, classic themes, handled with sincerity rather than irony.

My Conclusion

Fiz and the Rainbow Planet is a game that knows exactly what it is, and just as importantly, what it isn’t. It’s not flashy, it’s not huge, and it’s not trying to reinvent the genre. Instead, it offers a short, colourful adventure that prioritises accessibility, charm, and heart.

This isn’t Celeste but if you enjoy Gameboy era platformers I can recommend you give this a try.