The term “interactive experience” has been thrown around a lot over the past few years, especially with the rise of VR. More often than not, it feels like a marketing safety net — a way to justify a three-hour game with a $50 price tag by insisting what you’re buying isn’t a game, but an experience. That thought kept circling in my head while playing Goodnight Universe, the latest title from the developers of Before Your Eyes. Their previous game was one of the rare VR releases that genuinely justified the technology, standing shoulder to shoulder with Half-Life: Alyx, not through scale or spectacle, but through emotional intimacy. It was also one of the few games that left me red-faced after taking off the headset — not from discomfort, but from crying. Its central mechanic was elegant, purposeful, and never overstayed its welcome. VR wasn’t a gimmick there; it was the entire emotional engine. Every blink mattered. Every moment felt fragile. Goodnight Universe is the studio’s attempt to bring that same emotional ambition to a non-VR audience, and on paper, it makes sense. Not everyone wants to strap a device to their face to be moved by a story. The problem is that once you strip away the physical intimacy of VR, what’s left here feels thinner — not broken or incompetent, but noticeably diminished.
The pacing also quietly undercuts things. The game moves at a steady, almost overly controlled rhythm, rarely allowing moments to breathe beyond their intended emotional window. Scenes transition just as they begin to settle, and beats that could have benefited from silence or player-led reflection instead glide past on rails. It creates the sense that the game is carefully escorting you through its themes rather than trusting you to sit with them. Where this studio once excelled at letting discomfort linger, Goodnight Universe feels quicker to move on, as if worried the player might disengage if left alone with their thoughts for too long.
Narratively, the story aims for a familiar emotional register: quiet moments, existential undercurrents, a sense of melancholy wrapped in warmth. Characters are likable but underdeveloped, their arcs hinted at rather than fully explored. Big emotional beats arrive on schedule, but they feel expected, even rehearsed, like the game knows what kind of reaction it wants but doesn’t fully earn it. That’s not to say Goodnight Universe is bad. There are moments of genuine beauty here, marked by soft visual compositions, a restrained yet effective soundtrack, and a tone that feels sincere rather than cynical. It’s clear the developers care deeply about emotional storytelling, and that sincerity goes a long way. The issue is that sincerity alone doesn’t carry an entire experience, especially when the central hook feels muted.
Ironically, the game’s biggest strength, its restraint, also becomes its weakness. Refusing to challenge the player mechanically or structurally creates an experience that’s easy to admire but hard to feel. I never disliked my time with it, but I also never felt consumed by it. When the credits rolled, I appreciated what the game was trying to say, but I didn’t feel changed by it. And that brings me to the title itself: Goodnight Universe. It’s a name that feels broad, abstract, and strangely impersonal for a game that’s trying so hard to be intimate. It gestures toward cosmic reflection, but the story itself is much smaller and more grounded. Compared to Before Your Eyes, a title that perfectly encapsulated both its mechanic and its emotional core, this one feels vague, almost evasive, like a placeholder that never quite found its true shape.
Ultimately, Goodnight Universe feels like a transitional project: a studio proving they can tell emotional stories outside of VR, but not yet fully understanding what replaces that lost intimacy. It’s thoughtfully made, gently written, and occasionally affecting, but it lacks the mechanical poetry that made their earlier work unforgettable.
Score: 6 out of 10
Reviewed on PC