Wow, where do I even start?

I had played this game originally when it came out in 2017. I only did one playthrough of it, and then abandoned it, making it collect dust in my library. And while I decided to 100% some games, I put this in the list and finally revisited it in 2025.

This game is nothing short of a masterpiece. From the moment I stepped into Possum Springs, I was completely enamoured by the world that was bestowed upon me - not because of flashy gameplay or high-stakes action, but because of its quiet haunting beauty. Every conversation, every song, every starlit walk through town felt deeply personal. It's a completely surreal and unique experience that I've never seen done before; it's a rare kind of experience - one that lingered for me long after the credits rolled.

On the surface, this game seems merely about a college dropout who returns to her hometown to reconnect with her friends and figure out her next steps in her life. It plays like a small-town coming of age story filled with quirky dialogue and band practises. But beneath all that, the game tackles some really heavy and frankly dark topics such as the quiet desperation of a generation facing uncertainty and the toll of mental illness on its victims. It's a story about people trying to hold onto meaning into a world that feels like it's slipping away.

NITW resonated with me on a deeply personal level. The mix of isolation, nostalgia and uncertainty of growing up and not knowing where you belong anymore and how you fit into this ever-changing, dangerous and callous world. The game reminded me that even in the middle of confusion or emotional numbness, there’s value in the small things in life: sitting on rooftops, late-night talks, being understood by someone — even just a little. That emotional honesty is rare, and it's why this game has stayed with me long after I finished it.

Another thing I would love to touch on is the soundtrack. It's nothing short of phenomenal. It perfectly captures the emotional landscape of the game - from the whimsical charm of small-town life to the eerie, dreamlike unease that creeps in as the story unfolds. Tracks like "Home Again", "Title," and "Gregg Rulz OK" bring warmth and energy into everyday scenes, while pieces like "Astral Alley" and the dream sequences carry a haunting, almost cosmic weight. What makes the music so powerful is how deeply it's woven into the game's rhythm. It's not just background sound; it feels like part of the town, like another voice in the story. Whether you're walking through falling leaves or sitting in silence after a difficult conversation, the music always knows exactly how to make you feel it.

One of the most striking aspects of NITW to me is the use of the autumn season to shape the game's mood and atmosphere. The entire story takes place under golden leaves, dusky skies and long chilly nights - creating a constant sense of melancholy, reflection and quiet change. Autumn isn't just used as a backdrop, but as a metaphor for everything this game explores: the end of something, the fading warmth and the feeling that time slipping away. The art style leans into deep oranges, browns and muted purples that evoke a comforting yet fading world, much like the town of Possum Springs itself. It’s the perfect visual match for a story about decay — of towns, of relationships, of certainty — and the longing for something that might never return. The autumn setting makes the game feel timeless and transient all at once, grounding its emotional weight in every falling leaf and overcast sky.

Closely tied to the game’s seasonal atmosphere is its distinct and unforgettable art style. Night in the Woods uses a flat, paper-cutout aesthetic with bold silhouettes, warm colours, and minimalist character designs — yet somehow, it manages to express a staggering amount of emotion and personality. The characters may be stylised animals, but their expressions, postures and movements feel incredibly human. Every environment in Possum Springs is layered with detail: crooked storefronts, rusty railings, fading murals, and scattered leaves tell a story of a town that’s been quietly falling apart for years. There's a dreamlike quality to the visuals — surreal yet grounded, charming yet sad — and that duality defines the game’s tone. The dream sequences in particular are visual standouts, shifting the palette to cooler blues and abstract shapes that contrast the warm, familiar spaces of the town. It’s a rare case where the visuals don’t just support the narrative — they are the narrative, silently reinforcing everything Mae and her world are going through.

The narrative structure of NITW is just as deliberate and layered as its art. Rather than relying on a traditional plot-driven arc, the game unfolds slowly over the course of day-to-day life. You wake up, wander town, talk to friends, explore, and repeat — a rhythm that feels mundane on the surface but becomes emotionally powerful through repetition and small, evolving moments. It's a structure that mirrors real life: change comes gradually, and meaning is found not in big events, but in conversations on rooftops, awkward silences, and the feeling of being stuck. This loose, slice-of-life pacing is bold for a game — it trusts the player to engage with the emotional undercurrents without constantly pushing forward with major plot beats. Yet when the story does shift into darker or surreal territory, those moments hit harder precisely because they interrupt the routine. The balance between the ordinary and the mysterious is where the game shines — and it's what makes the narrative feel so honest, so lived-in, and so unforgettable.

What truly gives NITW its emotional weight is its cast of complex, deeply human characters. Mae is a rare kind of protagonist in games — flawed, impulsive, emotionally raw, and yet instantly relatable. Her journey isn’t just about solving a mystery; it’s about coming to terms with herself, her past, and the people she left behind. Her friends — Gregg, Bea, and Angus — aren’t just side characters; they each have their own struggles, fears, and hidden depths. Whether it’s Gregg’s chaotic energy masking his anxiety about growing up, or Bea’s burden of adult responsibility weighing her down, the game never reduces anyone to a stereotype. You choose who to spend time with each day, and those decisions shape how much of their personal stories you uncover.

This branching paths in the game means you can’t see everything in one playthrough — and that’s part of the beauty. Choosing to grow closer to Gregg over Bea, for example, completely changes your emotional arc, and the scenes you share with each friend are filled with vulnerability and nuance. That limited perspective mirrors real life: you don’t get to see everyone’s full story, only the pieces they share with you. It’s what makes replaying the game so rewarding — not just to explore alternate content, but to gain new emotional context. Each playthrough offers a different angle on Mae’s world and deepens your understanding of what Possum Springs means to its people. It’s not just a story you consume — it’s one you live in, and that’s what keeps drawing you back.

To conclude, NITW isn’t just one of my favourite games — it’s one of the most meaningful experiences I’ve ever had in any medium. It captures something raw and real about growing up, about the fear of stagnation, the ache of memory, and the fragile comfort of being seen. Through its beautiful visuals, haunting soundtrack, and unforgettable characters, it tells a story that lingers — one that doesn’t offer easy answers, but does offer understanding. It’s a game that made me feel less alone at a time when I needed it most. Whether you’re drawn in by the writing, the atmosphere, or the emotional honesty, there’s something deeply human at the heart of NITW. It stays with you — and in a world that often feels cold or indifferent.