Herdling: Turns Out, Herding Digital Goats Is Exactly What Our Souls Needed This Year
AI Gaming News Author · Polygon ·
Forget what you thought you knew about herding games; *Herdling* by Okomotive turns a simple concept into a profoundly moving journey through a broken world, proving that even pixelated goats can teach us about loss, connection, and finding hope.
Right, so I’ve been tinkering with this story all morning, and bloody hell, it’s wilder than it first appeared. When you hear "sheep herding game," your digital wizard brain probably conjures images of... well, farming sims or something similarly chill, right? Maybe a bit of micromanagement, a lot of green pastures, and probably some wool. But then along comes *Herdling*, and it completely flips the script, mate. Polygon called it "the most human game of the year," and after digging into it, I’m starting to think they’re not just blowing smoke.
First off, the developers, Okomotive, aren't exactly new to bending reality and messing with our emotions. Their previous works, *Far: Lone Sails* and *Far: Changing Tides*, were absolute masterclasses in atmospheric storytelling and evoking feelings through desolate, beautiful landscapes. So, it's perhaps no surprise that *Herdling* kicks off with you, as protagonist Via, waking up under a grimy underpass in a deserted city. Not exactly your typical fluffy sheep farm, is it?
The noise that yanks you from your slumber? A car alarm. The cause? A giant, horned, red-eyed creature called a Calicorn. And this, my friends, is where the magic begins. This beastie, which you can name yourself (or let the game pick one for you, if, like me, you're terrible at naming anything beyond your Wi-Fi router), becomes your first companion. Our reviewer, Aimee Hart, ended up with one named Isa. Sounds about right. Soon enough, you pick up Szu and Calico, and that's when the core gameplay loop kicks in: herding.
Now, let's talk about the actual herding, because it’s not as straightforward as it sounds. The game demands that you position Via *behind* your growing herd to usher them forward. On a Steam Deck with controller controls, our reviewer admitted to crushing "MANY cars" with her trusty herd before even escaping the opening city. Fair dinkum, I can picture it – trying to navigate a growing cluster of digital animals through a minefield of abandoned cars, fences, and traffic cones. It sounds like trying to herd a bunch of bewildered cats through a laser grid, doesn't it? Apparently, going slow is an option, good for those trophy hunters among us, but even that can be a bit of a slog. It’s got that classic gaming frustration where the simplest mechanic becomes a delightful, chaotic challenge.
But here’s the kicker, the point where the initial frustrations just… melted away like a dodgy spell. The starting city is all shadows and urban decay, with flaming dumpsters as your primary light source – proper grim. Claustrophobic, even. So, when our reviewer’s herd rounded a corner and saw the rising sun illuminating the staggering mountaintops in the distance, it hit different. The Calicorns' fur, previously dull brown, blazed into an astonishing auburn. It’s that perfect moment of relief and hope, the kind you get when you finally break free from a dungeon into a sun-drenched, open world. The music swells, you ascend into the valley, and you just… keep going. Turns out, the journey isn't just about escaping a grim city; it's about searching for something undefined.
And this is where the game gets profoundly *human*. Our reviewer brought up a Welsh word, 'Hiraeth' – a homesickness tinged with grief, a yearning for something lost. It's a cracker of a word, isn't it? The game doesn't spell it out for you, doesn't throw exposition dumps in your face. Instead, it embodies this feeling. The old world is gone, broken even, and all you can do is move forward, searching for a new home, for connection, for *something*.
Your journey takes you through meadows, forests, glades, and even cavernous landmarks. Unlike the city's tight corridors, these open spaces let you truly *run* with your herd, stampeding with a surprising sense of grace. There’s a "run" gauge that fills up not by grinding, but by – wait for it – leaning into the game's core themes. You fill it by connecting with your Calicorns: running through fields of blue flowers, feeding them special blue fruit. This isn't just a mechanic; it's a narrative device. The more you connect, the more you learn about your Calicorns (one was apparently a 'rascal,' which, let’s be honest, we all have that one friend). And the more you learn about them, the more you learn about the world itself. It's cleverly observed, building lore through interaction, not text logs.
And the world itself? Absolutely gorgeous. Speckles of light, snow-capped mountains beckoning in the distance. Even without dialogue or other humans, the journey itself becomes the story, an otherworldly beauty in motion. This beauty is amplified in the quieter moments, those delightful checkpoints where you and your herd can just… *be*. Picture it: an abandoned garage, a cavern filled with multi-colored wall art, or just an open, snowy field. You can gather sticks, start a fire, and simply sit with your furry companions. You can even decorate their horns with trinkets, pet them, clean their fur. These aren't just cosmetic flourishes; they're moments of overwhelmingly loud bonding, even in their hushed simplicity. It's the kind of subtle magic that genuinely makes you care about these pixelated creatures.
But just because *Herdling* is quiet and enthralling doesn't mean it's all sunshine and cuddles. The broken world still holds dangers. Mountain paths crumble, giant owls eye your Calicorns with hunger. Our reviewer recounted moments where she was "near tears," desperately pulling her companions away from danger, their cries of fear ringing in her ears. It’s a testament to the game's design that even with a short playtime, the attachment to these digital companions is undeniably real. That's the hallmark of a truly innovative indie game, isn't it? One that makes you feel genuine emotion for what's on screen.
So, what does this all mean? *Herdling* defies expectations. It takes a seemingly simple concept – herding – and infuses it with a profound sense of melancholy, loss, and ultimately, hope. It’s a game that acknowledges the pain and grief of a broken world but insists that they aren’t insurmountable. Home might be gone, things might never be the same, but there’s always goodness to be found. You just have to be brave enough to reach out for that bond, and hope that it reaches right back. Reckon that's a pretty powerful message for any digital wizard navigating this chaotic reality, eh?
Original review by Aimee Hart for Polygon. You can check out the full review
Tags: IndieGames, Adventure, EmotionalStorytelling, Atmospheric, Exploration
Original article: Polygon