Better check the desert dunes again Caravan SandWitch, someone's buried the title. An open world you can explore in a few leisurely evenings? A world where you'll prefer the breezy free-form excursions of Elden Ring or Breath Of The Wild; a world where you'll climb vast expanses of industrial concrete on scavenging missions for curious frogs, undisturbed by irritating checklists?
OK, rain check on that last point. SandWitch can't help but channel the freedom of cruising around in your chubby yellow van into restrictive collecting marathons. Yet for most of its relaxed running time, this game is a veritable panacea for the game's more bloated map-hunters. And even if you're sent hamster-cheeked foraging for components before you can make any progress, there's very little in this world that isn't intentional. Side quests and bits of storytelling are deliberately scattered throughout, and every building is a thoughtful concrete puzzle box. In short, it's a good time.
You play as Sauge, a space traveler who returns to the planet Cigalo after receiving a distress signal from her missing sister. Cigalo is a cheerful place, but it has been economically and environmentally devastated after being exploited by an evil space corporation called The Consortium. It's full of small human settlements, big talking frogs called Reinetos, and the occasional friendly robot. Everything is friendly, even gravity. There's no danger, death, or damage that comes from launching yourself from the tallest building you can find. You're just helping your friends in the desert, upgrading your van with more gadgets to solve puzzles, or trying to figure out exactly where Sauge's sister has gone.
While SandWitch is too benign to be framed as a critique of anything, its world design certainly feels like a gentle parenting, “yes, and…” dialogue with what might be called archetypal, stubborn map-making. Case in point — the towers. There were hints when Far Cry 3 started us down this dark path (then up, then up again), that the yellow-jagged ledge-jumping would eventually morph into something more fun. Reductively put, that’s still what you’re doing here: scaling structures to reveal more of the map. The difference is that each of these buildings really feels like its own thing. Riffs on a formula, to be sure, but delicious ones.
I really struggle to put into words why I love these puzzles so much. They’re both so easy and yet so satisfying, it feels like witchcraft. They don’t require any real lateral thinking or fine-tuning of your thumbs. All you really have to do is pay attention and be a little bit aware of the gadgets you’ve already unlocked with your van. Many of the early puzzles require you to reach and disable a series of electronic jamming devices scattered around the map. For example, you might need to activate a series of switches to open a path for your van to pull a loose door free with a hook, which gives you access to a ladder. I love them so much. I don’t want my brain to be stirred up all the time. Sometimes, it’s enough to tickle a feather from an extremely rare “very cool puzzle” chicken (The Gallus Gallus Riddle).
Besides, why would you look into a gift hen’s mouth, eh? I’ve seen what’s inside those beaks, and it’s not pretty. Not like the landscapes here. Almost irresponsible: an environmental apocalypse of exploration so pretty to look at could make you slack off in preventing global catastrophe. SandWitch’s world is one where dead and disused things are made alive, and discarded things are brought back to life. Dull concrete is animated by splashes of painterly erosion, vaguely reminiscent of a brighter Revacholian impressionism. Solar panels bend their necks gently and hopefully toward the sky. Your truck’s scanner will occasionally reveal the vast folds of a mycelium network slithering happily underground, and the horizon is home to a smoldering uh-oh crowned by swirling, menacing clouds.
That's right, checklists. In a concession to channel free-form exploration into progression points that mark a new chapter, the game occasionally demands a pile of oddly rare components to upgrade your truck with a new tool. The components aren't hard to find. They're all over the world, and they're also doled out for side missions. Still, I suspect everyone will hit a wall at some point and be forced to do some real scavenging. The numbers aren't really that overwhelming, it's just that it's so noticeable that you're suddenly being asked to play at the game's pace rather than your own.
There’s also a slight mismatch—perhaps not tension—between the game’s stated mission statement as a comforting game about harmonious communities in an “environment hostile to all civilizations due to overexploitation” and its “environment hostile to all civilizations due to overexploitation.” Fundamentally, the game’s reluctance to make you feel even slightly bad about anything makes its environmental metaphor ring hollow. Your friends worry loudly about food supplies over a table full of loaves of bread and fruit. The evil Consortium is mentioned but never present—and so the problems feel presented but never explored beyond their promising implications. The problem with perfect vibrations, I suppose, is that even the wrinkles are essentially just an aesthetic choice.
Still, there's an undeniable air of gorgeousness, a slight melancholy that the game leans into rather than trying to clear up. I don't want to spoil that. more There's a lot about frogs, but learning about their place as natives of the planet is a real highlight. But the main thing I want to convey here (especially if you're starting to feel consciously 'comfortable') is that there's real thought and craft that goes into creating an experience that's a genuinely relaxing, pleasant place to spend time, and also feels nice and fulfilling as a mini open-world game. Even after a thousand words, it's a good time.
I took last week off work because I was completely exhausted. If it weren’t for the little space Caravan SandWitch gave me to escape to for a few evenings, I’m not sure I would have made it back just yet.
This review is based on the game review structure provided by the publisher.