Review: Onirism

Developer – Crimson Tales

Publisher – Shoreline Games

Platforms –   PC (Reviewed)

Review copy given by Developer

Onirism is one of those games that sounds almost too wild to work when you describe it. A stolen plushie, a mysterious portal, and a girl bursting with attitude are the starting pieces, but what unfolds is a massive dreamlike odyssey filled with candy forests, alien moons, and megalomaniac scientists. You step into the slippers of Carol, a kid with more energy than sense, and follow her into the surreal world of Crearia in search of her beloved Bunbun. The setup is simple, but the execution is anything but. What begins as a chase quickly spirals into a fast-paced, endlessly inventive platforming adventure that feels like your imagination got a sugar rush.

The first few moments set the tone perfectly. Carol doesn’t tiptoe into this strange world—she leaps, blasts, and smirks her way through it with an infectious confidence. Crearia itself wastes no time showing off its variety. In one level, you’re bouncing across oversized candy mushrooms that feel pulled from a child’s storybook. In another, you’re climbing up desert pyramids, sliding down shifting sands while dodging traps. Soon after, you’re standing on the eerie surface of a moon base, surrounded by bizarre machinery and enemies that look like they crawled out of a science experiment gone wrong. The sheer tonal whiplash sounds like it shouldn’t work, but it does, because that unpredictability is exactly the point.

Exploration is always rewarded, and this isn’t a game that wants you to rush. Secrets are tucked into every corner: hidden rooms behind false walls, clever puzzles that open up shortcuts, and bizarre Easter eggs that feel like in-jokes from the developers themselves. At one point I stumbled into what I thought was just a small alcove, only to find a goofy costume hidden inside. Another time, poking at a seemingly ordinary block revealed a hidden weapon that turned out to be one of my favorites for the rest of the level. That thrill of discovery never really goes away, because Onirism makes sure every chapter has something special hidden just out of sight.

Enemies add to that sense of surprise. With over 300 distinct foes, you never know what you’re about to face next. A bouncing blob might seem harmless until it splits into smaller versions of itself. Floating jellyfish enemies lull you into underestimating them before zapping you with unpredictable movement patterns. Heavily armored knights march methodically, requiring patience and well-placed shots. My favorite encounter was with an enemy shaped like a living jack-in-the-box that would literally spring at you out of nowhere—it was hilarious and terrifying at the same time. The sheer creativity in enemy design keeps combat constantly engaging, because you can’t ever just coast on autopilot.

Boss fights, though, are where Onirism truly flexes. There are over 20 of them, and each one is memorable in its own way. One standout for me was a towering carnivorous plant that lashed out with vines, forcing me to dodge in tight spaces while looking for a window to attack. Another had me facing down a mad scientist who hopped between giant machines, turning the battlefield into a death trap of electricity and projectiles. Each boss is essentially a test—of your patience, your adaptability, and your ability to think creatively with the tools at your disposal. They’re tough, but never cheap, and every victory feels like a major accomplishment.

The arsenal you use in these battles is equally over the top. Onirism doesn’t just give you a few weapons and call it a day—it floods you with options. With more than 300 gadgets and weapons, you’re spoiled for choice. One moment I was using a bubble gun that trapped enemies in floating spheres, and the next I was unloading with a rocket launcher that sent them flying off platforms. Some weapons are practical, others are purely ridiculous, but all of them feel distinct. The fun is in experimenting—switching between guns mid-level to see which one clicks against a particular enemy type is a joy.

Costumes are another layer of madness, offering over 200 outfits for Carol to strut around in. Some are slick, like space suits that make you feel ready for the moon base levels. Others are utterly absurd, like novelty hats and animal-themed getups that make it impossible not to smile. Changing Carol’s look doesn’t affect gameplay, but it affects the mood—and in a game this lighthearted, that matters. Saving Bunbun while wearing a rubber duck hat somehow feels perfect.

Vehicles shake things up even more, and they’re not half-baked throw-ins either. The Buzzard Plane makes aerial levels thrilling, letting you soar through skies filled with enemies and hazards. The Royal Hovercraft glides smoothly over obstacles, changing the tempo of exploration. And stomping around in mechs is as fun as it sounds, letting you plow through groups of enemies with sheer power. There are over 20 of these rides, and they’re integrated smartly into the campaign, ensuring the pace never grows stale.

Multiplayer takes all of this chaos and multiplies it. You can team up locally or online, blasting through bosses together or turning the weapons loose on each other in competitive modes. Playing alone is great, but there’s something about laughing with friends as you all try to wrangle the game’s madness that feels just right. It’s easy to imagine this being a couch co-op staple, the kind of game you pull out when you just want to have fun without overthinking it.

Carol herself is the glue holding all this together. She’s full of energy, full of sass, and full of determination. She doesn’t just wander through Crearia timidly—she meets its strangeness with humor and confidence. Watching her bounce, laugh, and push forward gives the game a personality that keeps it from ever feeling generic. Her connection to Bunbun is simple, but it gives the journey an emotional anchor amid the dreamlike weirdness.

Presentation makes all of this sing. The environments are drenched in color, each one vibrant and distinct. The forests feel sugary, the deserts feel vast, and the moon base feels alien and unsettling. Enemies are equally wild, ranging from goofy to grotesque, always straddling the line between funny and frightening. The soundtrack supports this variety, bouncing from upbeat, adventurous tunes to darker, more atmospheric pieces when the tension ramps up. Together, it all feels cohesive, even when the ideas themselves are wildly different.

The pacing is near perfect. Levels flow from one set piece to the next without ever dragging, and just when you think you’ve got the hang of things, the game throws in a new mechanic or a surprising twist. One level might have you focused on platforming precision, while the next leans into puzzles, and the one after that throws you into pure combat mayhem. It’s that constant shifting that keeps you hooked—every level feels like a fresh challenge rather than a recycled idea.

Replayability is off the charts. With so many weapons, costumes, and secrets, it feels like you’re only scratching the surface on your first run. Going back to levels to search for hidden paths or test new weapons is rewarding, and multiplayer ensures the fun doesn’t end once you’re done with the campaign. Onirism feels like a game you can keep revisiting, always finding something new to laugh about or master.

Now, it’s not without its flaws. The sheer volume of content can sometimes feel overwhelming. There were moments when I had so many weapons, gadgets, and costumes that it felt like too much to juggle. The chaos can also become disorienting, especially in busier combat encounters where enemies, projectiles, and environmental hazards all collide at once. But these are small quibbles in the bigger picture. The game embraces chaos as part of its identity, and once you lean into that, the overwhelming parts start to feel intentional.

What makes Onirism truly special is its creativity. Every aspect feels designed with the idea of play in mind. It’s not about rigid systems or carefully balanced mechanics—it’s about letting you experiment, explore, and have fun. Whether you’re trying out a new gadget, dressing Carol in something ridiculous, or just poking around for secrets, the game rewards curiosity and imagination at every turn.

The bosses exemplify this perfectly. They’re not just tests of skill, they’re showcases of the game’s philosophy. Each fight is unique, forcing you to think differently, adapt your tools, and pay attention. Winning isn’t just satisfying because of the challenge—it’s satisfying because you beat the dream on its own terms, with creativity as much as skill.

By the time you’ve sunk hours into Crearia, you realize Onirism isn’t really about Bunbun at all. The plushie may be the narrative hook, but the journey is about exploring a world built on imagination, embracing the chaos, and finding joy in the unexpected. Carol’s energy, the game’s humor, and the sheer variety of content make it feel like a celebration of play itself.

Onirism isn’t perfect, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s messy, chaotic, and overwhelming in places, but that’s what makes it feel authentic. Dreams aren’t tidy, and neither is this game. What it delivers is a ride filled with laughter, color, and surprises at every turn—a game that understands fun better than most of its peers.

At its best, Onirism captures the pure joy of childhood imagination. It’s a platformer, a shooter, a puzzler, and a playground all at once, packed into a package that never stops giving you reasons to smile. Carol’s quest might start with a stolen plushie, but it ends up being something much bigger: a reminder of how games can surprise us when they let go of rules and lean into pure creativity.

For anyone craving a colorful, unpredictable adventure that doesn’t play by the usual rules, Onirism is an easy recommendation. Onirism’s narrative is less a linear tale and more a collage of emotions, imagery, and imagination. It trusts the player to piece together meaning from its chaos and rewards curiosity with secrets tucked into every corner. Carol’s journey is deeply personal, but it opens a window into something universal—the way dreams can be both terrifying and liberating, both nonsensical and profound. And when you finally set the controller down, you might just find yourself wishing you could dive back into Crearia, if only for one more wild, dream-soaked adventure. It’s not just a dream brought to life—it’s a dream you’ll want to stay in, just a little longer, to see what other madness might be waiting around the corner.