Stray

Stray understood the assignment before you even start it: you are a cat. Not a person with a cat, not a cat sidekick. A real, slinking, curious cat loose in a soaked cyberpunk city built for no one your size.

Most of the joy is just being that cat. You can curl up and sleep, you can meow at strangers, you can scratch a rug for no reason, and you can absolutely walk along a shelf and push a can into the void while making eye contact with the game. That it is an actual button tells you everything about the mood.

The city does most of the heavy lifting, and it is one of the best-looking places we visited all year.

The puzzles are gentle. This is a vibe first and a challenge maybe fifth. A little drone companion tags along and handles the talking, which keeps the plot moving but also means the cat stops being the whole show for stretches.

The honest note

It is short, six hours or so, and once the novelty of being a cat settles you can feel how light the actual gameplay is. We did not mind. Some games are a place you visit rather than a wall you climb, and this is a lovely place.

If you want the "did too much" opposite of this, our Dave the Diver review is waiting, and if you want more lovingly retro adventure, try Sea of Stars.