Wenjia

My first proper session with Wenjia ended with me sitting quietly for a moment after the credits, not because I was moved to tears, but because the art had genuinely held me the whole way through. That is both the game's greatest achievement and the seed of its frustration: everything beautiful about it makes you wish there were twice as much of it. You play as a cat-shaped energy entity that can phase-shift between the Matter Realm and the Energy Realm with a single button press. The Matter Realm is lush, colorful, almost pastoral. The Energy Realm sits opposite it: pale, drained, strangely quiet. Switching between the two is the core loop. You spot a gap in one world, flip to the other, find an air current or a platform that exists only there, time your jumps, and move on. A cooldown on the phase-shift stops you from spamming it mindlessly, and the game is smart enough to use that cooldown as a difficulty dial. Early levels are gentle. Later sections, particularly the infamous lava-escape sequence, will punish you with a checkpoint frequency that seems to forget you are a mortal. Spikes, lava, water, fire: the hazard vocabulary is familiar, but the realm-flipping gives every obstacle a second layer of reading that keeps your brain active even when your fingers are doing routine platformer work. The hand-drawn art deserves a paragraph of its own. Background scenes feel hand-painted, and the sharp contrast between the two realms carries real emotional weight. The soundtrack, assembled with audio collaborators from Russia, leans into melancholic piano and atmospheric texture. Some reviewers felt the track variety was thin, and they are not wrong. A handful of levels recycle the same music, and while each individual piece is lovely, the repetition dulls its impact by the midpoint. Still, there were moments where the soundscape and the visuals locked together in a way that felt genuinely crafted, not assembled. Where Wenjia disappoints, it does so consistently. The story involves a catastrophic earthquake threatening spirits trapped inside a mountain, with a lore backdrop about an ancient conflict over the Energy Realm's power. It is a genuinely interesting premise, and the game barely touches it. Text-based exposition carries most of the narrative weight, and the English localisation was notably rough at launch, with grammatical errors that fragmented the little worldbuilding the game attempted. The cat protagonist never gains abilities beyond a double-jump and the phase-shift, which is a conscious design choice but also a ceiling that you brush against well before the final level. Critics and players alike noted that the realm-swapping mechanic, while good, is underused; the game rarely invents new puzzle configurations around it when it could. At two hours for a casual run, and perhaps three or four if you hunt the hidden orbs scattered through each chapter (collectibles that unlock cosmetics but never feel mandatory), the runtime is what it is. Who is this for? Honestly, anyone who responds to hand-crafted 2D art and a quiet, meditative pace will find enough here to justify an evening. Platformer veterans chasing the Ori comparison will leave wanting: the depth simply is not there. But players who treat the runtime as a feature rather than a flaw, who want something that sits close to a playable illustration with intermittent precision-platforming spikes, will find Wenjia holds its ground. It knows when to be peaceful. It just does not always know when to be surprising. Kai, Scout Team

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