Whenever a game gives me an adorable animal companion with whom I am to face the horrors of a lonely and treacherous world, I know it’s going to make me cry. Whether they’ll be tears of joy or sorrow, it’s impossible to tell, but there’s something incredibly raw about the connection between a person and any animal that decides to trust them, particularly when they are at their weakest. Koira, the debut title from Studio Tolima, is also the latest game from publisher Don’t Nod, known for releasing emotional, narrative-heavy games that also tend to make me (and many others) cry.
Koira touts itself as a ‘wholesome tale of friendship’, but that description doesn’t always feel like it quite suits. There are certainly elements of the game that are wholesome – when Koira and their puppy friend meet, the puppy is hesitant to trust them, and that trust must be won over through a series of adorable games and moments of connection. As they venture through the forest in search of home, they’ll play hide and seek, make music together, and huddle for warmth in the quiet moments – all of which are wholesome.
Wordlessly, the pair fall into a comfortable partnership – when you throw sticks, the puppy will fetch. When you call, they will either run to you, or respond to let you know where they’ve run to. Filled with the excitement that can only be felt by a being who has never had to send an email in its life, the puppy will go exploring, and enthusiastically wag their tail as they try to show you what they’ve found. Together, you’ll make unlikely animal friends, and on the few occasions your journey takes you into the sky, you’ll point out familiar figures in the clouds. It is adorable, and these moments show nothing but the purest of relationships between a human and their animal friend.
And perhaps this game is wholesome in one of the Merriam-Webster definitions of the word – it “promotes mental or moral health or well-being”. Koira takes a clear moral stand. The game’s clearest enemies are the group of hunters you’ll encounter throughout – shadowy figures who seem intent on capturing (or recapturing) the puppy and forcing it to assist them in hunting other animals – many of whom are those unlikely friends mentioned earlier. It puts spirituality and connection to nature front and centre. It does feel good to play virtual hide and seek with the cutest and happiest little guy in the world. The controls are incredibly simple, and the game is dialogue-free, with mechanics that are super easy to understand – so it never feels particularly cognitively draining.
But I worry that describing it as wholesome misrepresents it as being what a slightly different definition of the word – “arousing pleasant and usually sentimental feelings” – suggests. Koira is incredibly sentimental, and there is much to endear you to the little puppy friend you’ll quickly make. But the feelings it arouses are by no means always pleasant. This game goes to some dark places, and if you go in expecting a happy little romp, which many might from the way it’s described, you might be a little shocked. There’s nothing in there that you wouldn’t find in a Disney movie, but you do need to prepare to feel all the emotions, not just the pleasant ones.
And you will feel all the emotions. If not simply because playing a game with an animal makes you vulnerable (like me), then because of the swelling soundtrack and musical moments that are at the centre of Koira’s journey. Rather than engaging in a verbal dialogue with the puppy or other residents at the forest, Koira communicates with their companions using a variety of melodic sounds, most of which are colour-coded to convey the emotion that goes along with them. Happier positive feelings are yellow, and usually correspond to sounds from wind instruments, whereas the drumkit-centric clashing of anger, fear or aggression is represented by red notes. It’s simple and evocative – like most of the best parts of Koira are.
That includes the aesthetic, which in itself is quite striking in its muted colour palette. Koira and the puppy, both simple black and white silhouettes, are surprisingly expressive for such understated figures. The world around them, also often grey-toned shades of reds or blues, is soft and a little smudged, helping the hard-lined Koira and the puppy to stand out against it. Honestly, every screen looked like a piece of art that I’d be happy to have as a background, mostly because it somehow made me feel a sense of warmth, even in the game’s coldest moments.
I do think you should play this game if you want to feel something. It’s astounding in its simplicity, both mechanically and in the way it conveys its messages, making it an incredibly accessible game. If you open your heart to Koira, you will find it full by the end of this short but memorable experience – just expect the emotions that fill it to be a mixed bag of the best kind.
Player 2 reviewed Koira on PlayStation 5, using a code kindly provided by the publisher.
