It’s curious how people describe Omori. To me it’s about a lonely, broken boy in the middle of a 2000’s small town quaint suburbia, (even if almost as scenery only) that has his home shaken by death and loss. He’s soon moving from the town that he virtually doesn’t live anymore, and reality is knocking at his door. Can he give life another chance? That’s what Omori is about. And if you ask me, every person needs a rite of passage story to call his own, and this one resonated with me.
Its characters, and there’s no way around this, are just kids. The circle affected by
Mari's death are still dealing with loss, craving for the way things were, when they were closer, being themselves. The dialogue can be superficial, but it captures how kids deal to uncomfortable situations, — not dealing with it, really — with Kel wanting to resolve everything even if not possible, Hero stumbling to keep the older, responsible brother façade, Aubrey growing rebellious and antisocial, contrasting with her old, bubbly and social child personality, and Basil growing melancholic, acting as a protector of the group memories guarding their old, good moments photo album - Everyone of them is scarred, and every moment between them does not feel right.
But Omori really shines in its portrayals of Sunny’s inside lingering trauma in a raw, adolescent way, unfiltered, confusing, at times with grand cold images of his alter ego at the same time he adventures through the dream world dwindling naivety. Omocat managed to transmit the feeling of feeling the external cracks of reality pouring into innaction, in an unique, intuitive accessible manner. There’s so much to feel! It shines juxtaposing the innocent, pure feeling of familiar love with dark, strong feelings of guilt. The duet scene does this well, being very emotional, after all the tussle he goes through. The real world feels like a constant dream, with its unfamiliarity, and going from raw emotion at times to living nightmares. Sunny almost has no control.
The visual interpretative cutscenes and Yume Nikki style segments dwindles the gamey parts, gamey parts that don't bother me, neither do I find them amazing. Sometimes the Dream World felt like a collection of cool quirky things too much, and seemed dull in retrospect, even if it represented escapism. With its long walkable sections, I saw myself running all the time. The music, scenario and enemies' art saved it.
An ambitious game that paid off. Six years in the making, with viral campaigns of crowdfunding, and a team of millennial artists of the likes of
Toby Fox and
bo en in it’s soundtrack, I would say that pulling off acclaimed status from a style that has Earthbound and MOTHER 3 as stepping stones is no easy feat, and it only shows how new games are as a media.
It's a lot of little things that contribute to this sense of failed realism, like Audrey carrying a baseball bat around like a character from a delinquent manga while leading a gaggle of bullies known as "The Hooligans" (some of which being self-described "candy junkies" in their late teens) in this town which is such a cartoonishly perfect American suburbia--generally, it all contributes to this fakeness, like the game is actually afraid to REALLY explore what adolescence is like. It's a depiction of adolescence that feels entirely informed by stories which also depict a fantastical idea of adolescence, rather than any serious real world experience.
The best example of this are Sunny's childhood memories--this perfect childhood friend group where they make scrapbooks and flower crowns and have amazing summer memories--that is a profoundly unrelatable depiction of what life is like when you're a preteen. The headspace segments are, to me, Sunny wishing to return to those days. It's escaping into a nostalgic fantasy, except that nostalgic fantasy is something which perfectly aligns with reality.
The aforementioned tweeness isn't a deliberate aesthetic specifically for the dream sequences--it's just what the whole game is like. The game, in of itself, is inadvertently escapism into this idealistic fantasy of adolescence. I hate to use Omocat's past obsession with shota stuff as a "gotcha", but it's really damning evidence of this fetishization of the concept of youth.
Even the darker elements fall victim to this, as complex and nuanced subject matter like suicide, poverty, psychological trauma, bullying, etc. are presented in a completely shallow way which feel disconnected from the real world parallels they fail to represent.
In a better, more well-written game, Omori would be the kind of game a character like Sunny plays that develops these fantasies which influence the content of his dreams, rather than being something which the creators genuinely enjoy and put into their work.
Even in its darkest moments, Omori is never "ugly" in this way. There is always this sense of romanticism which exists within everything