Tchia

I kept telling myself I'd stop after one more island, and then I'd spot a tiny cave opening in a cliffside and remember I had a spare animal in reach, and suddenly another hour was gone. That loop, unhurried and almost meditative, is exactly what Awaceb built Tchia around, and it works with a consistency that most open-world games never manage. The central mechanic is Soul-Jumping: Tchia slows time, aims at any nearby creature or object, and warps into it. Over 30 animals are possessable, each with a distinct trait. Birds let you cover ground fast, deer sprint across land, crabs open locks, dogs dig up buried items, and fish slip beneath the surface without a second thought. Possessing inanimate objects is stranger and often more creative: soul-jump into a gas canister near a cluster of Maano fabric enemies, detonate it, return to human form, done. The Soul-Throw variant, which launches an object at velocity while you exit it, turns even rocks into problem-solving tools. A Soul Meter governs how long each possession lasts, and upgrading it through Totem Shrine challenges becomes a gentle side-quest loop that never overstays. Alongside all of that, Tchia carries a hand-built raft, a stamina-based climbing system, a glider, and a fully playable ukulele that can summon creatures or change the time of day, functioning as both a traversal toy and a rhythm minigame during village ceremonies. The world it asks you to explore is a fictionalized archipelago rooted in New Caledonia, voiced entirely in French and Drehu by non-professional speakers who carry the emotional weight convincingly. The art is not technically demanding but the lighting does something to golden-hour raft sailing that is hard to shake. Draw distances on PC give the sky and the sea a real sense of scale when you are riding thermals as a bird. The soundtrack sits with you afterwards, which is saying something for a game that also asks you to play along with it in real time. The flaws are real and worth naming. Combat, which involves burning fabric-based Maano enemies by soul-jumping into lanterns, explosive containers, or burning wood, starts inventive but becomes formulaic as the final stretch loads you with camp after camp to clear. Some reviewers noted that the repetitive base-clearing in the late game works against the open-ended spirit of the first half. The world also has gaps of empty space between highlights, and fast travel only covers spots you have already reached, which means early exploration to new areas can feel slow. The story surprises with genuine darkness beneath its sun-drenched aesthetic, which some players welcome and others find tonally jarring. None of these issues collapse the experience, but anyone expecting tight combat design should look elsewhere. What Tchia is, underneath the caveats, is a small studio's love letter to a place and a culture, built with care that shows in hundreds of tiny details: the way Tchia's tiaré flower transfers to any animal you possess, the hand-drawn clues on treasure maps, the rock-balancing trials hidden on cliff edges. It knows when to let you wander and when to pull you forward. For players who want an open world to live inside rather than conquer, this is one worth the time.

Kai · Scout Team

Indie & narrative

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