Little Nightmares 3: Is It a Spooky Gem or Just a Bloody Nightmare to Play?
AI Gaming News Author · Polygon ·
According to Polygon's Claire Lewis, *Little Nightmares 3* is less a chilling atmospheric horror and more an exercise in frustration, plagued by overwhelming darkness, unclear objectives, clunky controls, and an unhelpful AI companion that makes it a 'nightmare to play' rather than a genuinely scary experience.
Right, so you know that feeling when you're all geared up for a genuinely spooky adventure, perhaps a quiet night in with a game that promises to mess with your head in all the right ways? You’ve got the mood lighting, the headphones on, ready for some atmospheric creepiness. That was the vibe I was going for when I stumbled across a rather illuminating (or perhaps, un-illuminating, as it turns out) review of *Little Nightmares 3*. According to Claire Lewis, who braved the shadows for Polygon, what she found was less a chilling psychological thriller and more an irritating exercise in frustration. And fair dinkum, reading her account, it sounds like a wizard's spell gone spectacularly wrong, leaving players trapped in an abyss of… well, darkness.
Lewis, like many of us, was drawn to the series' promise: weird, atmospheric games, minimal dialogue, clever platforming, and puzzles that make your brain tick. *ABZÛ* and *Sword of the Sea* were mentioned as personal favourites – a similar vibe but with a creepy twist. *Little Nightmares 3*, developed by Supermassive Games (who we know can handle a good scare), seemed to tick all the boxes: spooky atmosphere, a story to piece together, platforming, puzzles. Even the title screen apparently had a haunting, beautiful score. But alas, the reality, as detailed by Lewis, was akin to stepping into a horror movie where the monster is actually the poorly designed environment and clunky controls, not the actual terrifying creatures.
Now, here's where my eyebrows started doing a little dance. Lewis highlights a 'plethora of accessibility options.' And thank the gaming gods for that, because apparently, without 'highlighted outlines' to show interactable objects, she wouldn't have made it past the *first puzzle*. You can also change the font and turn up the brightness. This is where the gentle skepticism kicks in, mate. While accessibility options are absolutely vital and commendable – always a win when developers consider a broader audience – if they're the *only* way to make basic gameplay functional, then it raises a few questions about the core design, doesn't it? It's like building a grand castle but forgetting to put stairs in half the towers, then adding a note saying, 'Don't worry, we've provided a jetpack in the accessibility menu!'
And speaking of darkness, Lewis was left in the dark quite literally. Even with brightness cranked and those helpful outlines, the game's visually striking environments and set pieces were lost to an oppressive gloom. You pick dark costumes, sure, but apparently, the default ones aren't much better. It’s like they designed these incredible vistas and then decided the best way to showcase them was to dim the lights until you’re practically squinting at a blank screen. This isn't atmosphere; it's an optometrist's cash cow. Honestly, what's the point of gorgeous design if you can't bloody see it?
Then there’s the tutorial, or lack thereof. Apparently, *Little Nightmares 3* throws newcomers into the deep end, assuming everyone’s played the previous titles. This feels like a missed opportunity, especially for a series that could always draw in new fans. Collectible dolls exist, but they don't seem to go into an inventory, just… exist somewhere in the unseen void. Even the mid-game flashlight, a classic horror trope, barely cuts through the gloom. It truly sounds like a magic trick where the magician forgets the grand finale and just leaves you with a tangled handkerchief – you know something's supposed to happen, but you're just left confused and slightly annoyed.
The visibility issues apparently culminate in the platforming sections. The game uses a 2.5D perspective – you walk horizontally but can also move closer or further from the camera. Combine that with the blinding darkness and weird camera angles, and suddenly, determining your position relative to a ledge becomes a high-stakes guessing game. Cue lots of lethal falls. It’s like trying to navigate a room full of tripwires in a power cut, only your character has the spatial awareness of a goldfish. And combat? As Low, one of the two protagonists, you need to get practically intimate with enemies to land a hit with your wrench, but they can kill you in one shot. The split-second fumbling around in the dark to line up a strike sounds less like tense combat and more like an exasperating dance of death.
The puzzles, oh the puzzles! Lewis describes them as 'wildly simple and deeply frustrating.' This is a special kind of hell, isn't it? A simple task, like turning a crank, becomes a monumental challenge because you can't tell what’s scenery and what’s interactable. Plus, your AI companion, bless its little cotton socks, seems to spend most of its time contemplating the meaning of existence rather than helping you out. You're left guessing when (or if) it’ll deign to assist. This isn't challenging; it’s just poor communication, design-wise. It screams for couch co-op, which, of course, isn't an option. Online co-op exists, but being able to tag in a real-life mate to deal with the AI's lethargy would've been a game-changer.
Ultimately, Lewis argues that the game's biggest sin isn't just the fumbling in the dark (which can be done well, when intentional), but that it isn't scary. It’s not even creepy. Past *Little Nightmares* entries apparently managed tension far better, making you truly fear getting caught. Here, death is just annoying, a consequence of poor visibility rather than genuine terror. The game relies entirely on darkness for its mood, but that mood, as Lewis concludes, is 'more frustrating than fear-inducing.' There's nothing interesting waiting for you in the darkness – just more darkness and a headache.
So, my fellow digital adventurers, while the concept of *Little Nightmares 3* held so much promise for a spooky, puzzle-laden journey, it seems the execution, at least according to Claire Lewis's experience at Polygon, left a lot to be desired. It's a stark reminder that even with great ideas and a pedigree of horror, the fundamental player experience – like, you know, being able to actually *see* and *interact* with the game – is paramount. Sometimes, less darkness, and a bit more light on the gameplay mechanics, is exactly what a nightmare needs to truly shine. Or, at least, be visible enough to be played without wanting to pull your hair out. It truly feels like a cautionary tale: don't let your art direction completely obliterate your playability. We're here for the scares, mate, not the eye strain!
Tags: Horror Gaming, Indie Games, Game Review, Accessibility, Platformer
Original article: Polygon