Cats and the Other Lives

My first impression was that this would be a cute, low-stakes adventure about pawing at furniture and knocking things off shelves. That impression lasts maybe twenty minutes. Cats and the Other Lives is a pixel-art point-and-click set almost entirely inside the Hartford mansion of the recently deceased Bernard Mason, whose surviving family has gathered for the wake. You play as Aspen, the household's aging orange cat, free to roam every room, eavesdrop on every uncomfortable conversation, and generally be a cat while a quiet, increasingly grim family drama unfolds around you. The writing is genuinely sharp. By the time the credits roll you have a clear picture of who Bernard was, why his four adult children are so estranged from each other, and what secrets the house has been holding since the 1960s. That last part is where the game pulls a tonal left turn most players won't expect: what starts as warm domestic drama pushes into territory involving domestic violence, substance abuse, and some genuinely dark mythology threading through the Mason bloodline. The content warnings are real. On the gameplay side, the cat perspective is the cleverest thing here. Aspen can jump on shelves, track scents across rooms, squeeze through vents, chase mice, scratch furniture for attention, and use those feline abilities as the mechanical backbone for light puzzles. None of the puzzles are hard - this is not a game where you get stuck - but they do a good job of making you feel like a cat with accidental agency rather than a human brain in a cat body. The flashback sequences, where ghostly younger versions of family members replay pivotal moments from decades past, are used sparingly and land with real weight. The structure spans three chapters across three story days, and the pacing holds up across all of them, though a handful of longer dialogue stretches in the middle act can drag slightly. The few chase sequences involving mice or running from danger have been consistently flagged as the weak link: lane-switching feels a little unresponsive and the one tree-climbing chase in particular trips up most players at least once. Visually, the 2D pixel art earns its atmosphere. Aspen's animations are the star - chunky, unhurried, physically convincing in the way only a well-observed chunky cat can be. The mansion itself is detailed enough to feel lived-in and slowly decaying, which suits the story's preoccupation with inherited grief and unfinished business. The soundtrack is understated to the point where some players barely notice it, though that restraint fits the sombre mood better than a more intrusive score would. The game runs around six to seven hours on a first playthrough with minimal replay value beyond hunting collectible memory objects scattered through the environment. Who is this for? Anyone who gravitates toward narrative-heavy indie games - think Telling Lies or Gone Home in spirit, not in structure - and who is comfortable with adult themes handled seriously rather than sensationally. Pure puzzle-game hunters will find too little friction. Players who bounce off heavy text-based dialogue will find too much of it. But if you are the kind of person who finishes a short story and immediately needs to talk to someone about it, Cats and the Other Lives is very much in that space. The cat framing is not a gimmick. It earns its premise.

Alex · Scout Team

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