A grandfather sinks into despair and needs a jar of cherries, which proves sufficient pretext for a dream-logic chain of body-swaps through bulbs, dogs, sausages and a pill, ending in a finale that reveals itself as exactly what it appeared to be. The loose frame is barely a frame at all, more a clothesline for absurdist set-pieces, and the game never pretends otherwise. It runs roughly two hours, matching its predecessor’s length, and its whole posture is broader and brighter: full colour replaces the original’s green wash, and the art style improves across every scene. Controller support arrives properly for the first time too. This is a sequel that openly trades its inheritance for a lighter register.
Mechanical reinvention keeps that short runtime constantly changing. Possession hops between characters, light-bulb wiring snaps circuits together, a sausage-body construct stretches and crouches through its own sequence, and dual-character control arrives in time for the finale. Standout set-pieces stack oddly and delightfully: a fuse-restoration intro, a light-gun bug-shooting section pitched like an arcade light-gun shooter, a sentient-table boss with grabbing arms, and an enchanted-jar crafting quest assembled from jar, candle and dead fish. The item-combination loop stays central throughout, and almost no two rooms solve the same way.
The light-gun section deserves specific attention, because it fails on one detail: the cursor moves too slowly and cannot be adjusted, which turns a fun arcade homage into an early wall for anyone who misses the initial timing. Everything else about the segment works, the shooting rhythm generous, the bug-swarm gag well judged. A cursor-speed slider would have made it an unqualified highlight. As it stands it is the game’s sharpest mechanical frustration.
Many puzzles hinge on hidden logic with no readable hint. The flea-and-sandwich solution, a cobweb repurposed as a lasso, and a sock doubling as a water-carrier are all solved, if they are solved at all, by brute force through bafflement rather than deduction. The design compounds this deliberately: interactable hotspots are kept deliberately few, so finding the actual answer is harder not because the puzzle is deep but because the vocabulary is hidden. One flea puzzle stumps hardest of all, hinging on a character ability that is never telegraphed.
The finale’s split-attention boss fight, commanding dog and boy simultaneously against a turkey-chicken creature, is the hardest stretch by design. The attention split itself is a good idea, but the absence of any cooldown between attacks turns it into a reflex test that sits oddly in a game built on thought. It is a finale that demands faster hands than the preceding two hours ever trained.
Horro-adjacent atmosphere has thinned noticeably. The original’s gross-out horror edge barely registers here, and the tone now sits squarely in absurdist puzzle comedy. The recurring butt-crack character design, amusing once and constantly in frame thereafter, epitomises the trade: sillier, more visible, less unsettling. Whether that trade improves the series depends entirely on which entry one preferred.
Overall, this is a fun, breezy, roughly two-hour absurdist puzzle game that trades scares for smiles, with improved full-colour art, proper controller support and mechanical variety that never repeats itself. The guessy hidden-logic puzzles, the unadjustable light-gun cursor and the cooldown-free finale are real friction, but all of it is local rather than systemic. An ending that reads as deliberate setup only strengthens the case for continuing.
