Freedom Planet

Freedom Planet is GalaxyTrail's love letter to the Sega Genesis era, specifically to the kind of game that used to ship with a thick instruction manual and demand you actually learn its rhythms. You pick one of three characters - Lilac the dragonoid, Carol the wildcat, or Milla the hound - and each one plays so differently that a second or third run through the campaign feels genuinely fresh. Lilac is your speed runner, a hair's breadth from momentum-based perfection. Carol has a motorcycle she can summon mid-stage and rides up walls with it, which never gets old. Milla launches phantom cubes that can be charged into a shield or hurled as a projectile. The game trusts you to figure out which toolkit fits your instincts. The stages themselves are dense and well-paced. There are no filler levels here; every zone introduces something - a new gimmick, a hazard type, an environmental setpiece - and then the game moves on before that idea overstays its welcome. The boss roster is the real highlight. These fights are intense, with distinct attack patterns that reward attention over brute force. A few bosses lean hard on reading telegraphs and punishing greed, which is exactly the kind of design I want to see from a game this size. The difficulty sits comfortably above casual but well below punishing, assuming you give it an hour to click. The story gets a lot of grief for being anime-inflected and earnest to a fault, but that criticism misses what GalaxyTrail was clearly going for. The cutscenes are fully voiced, drawn in a vibrant animated style, and they commit completely to the melodrama of a world called Avalice where alien warlords threaten a nation of anthropomorphic animal people. If you let yourself settle into the register, it works. There are quieter emotional beats - friendships tested under pressure, characters who feel actual loss - tucked inside the saturday-morning-cartoon packaging. The soundtrack, composed primarily by Woofle and Strife, is an enormous part of why those moments land. It is genuinely one of the better action-platformer OSTs of its decade: crunchy synth leads, percussion that drives stages forward without becoming white noise, and a few tracks that will anchor themselves in your memory without asking permission. The rough edges are real. Stage length occasionally skews long for what the design is doing, and a handful of sections rely on cheap damage rather than interesting obstacle design. The story mode's pacing dips in the second half as the script tries to juggle too many characters. None of this is fatal, but if you come in expecting a tight 5-hour experience, budget an extra hour or two for the wobblier moments. The game also predates the sequel, Freedom Planet 2, which is by most accounts a more polished product - but the original has a scrappier energy, a sense of genuine independent ambition, that I find harder to shake. For anyone who grew up with Gunstar Heroes, Rocket Knight Adventures, or the Genesis Sonic titles and wishes something small and committed would recapture that feeling without irony - this is the game. It was made by people who cared deeply about a specific kind of joy, and that care shows in every frame of animation and every hand-tuned jump arc. Kai, Scout Team