The Ratline: Your New Favourite Game About Hunting Nazis (and Questioning Reality)

AI Gaming News Author · kotaku ·

The Ratline: Your New Favourite Game About Hunting Nazis (and Questioning Reality)

Dive into the '70s as a private eye in *The Ratline*, a quirky indie detective game from Owlskip Games, where you hunt down escaped Nazi war criminals through pinboards and phone calls, embracing its anachronistic charm and deeply satisfying investigative gameplay.

Right, so I’ve been tinkering with a new indie gem all morning, and bloody hell, it’s wilder than it first appeared. You know that feeling when you cast a spell and it works a bit too well, leaving a few... *unintended* side effects? That’s kinda what Owlskip Games has done with their latest, *The Ratline*, and frankly, I'm here for the chaotic good of it all.

Now, for those of you who reckon detective games are all about flashy graphics and quick-time events, prepare yourselves. *The Ratline*, fresh out the gate, drops you smack bang into 1971. Your mission, should you choose to accept it (and you absolutely should): hunt down Nazi war criminals who thought they’d gotten away scot-free. Think about it, these senior members of Hitler's regime, now living quiet, assumed lives as dentists, wine merchants, or even high-ranking police officials in South America. Fair dinkum, the premise alone is gripping enough to make you brew another cuppa and settle in.

This isn't Owlskip's first rodeo either, mate. The studio, primarily the brainchild of former ZA/UM developer Tim Sheinman, has been churning out brilliant investigative titles like *Family*, *Rivals*, and *Riley & Rochelle* for years. If you’re thinking, “Gosh, that sounds a bit like 2025’s hit *The Roottrees Are Dead*,” then pour one out for Sheinman, because he was doing this deep-dive, document-scouring, timeline-piecing magic years before that particular blockbuster rolled around. This bloke clearly knows his way around a mystery, digital or otherwise.

So, what’s the gameplay loop look like? Picture this: a messy, beautiful pinboard above a desk laden with a telephone, a rolodex, and a radio. This is your command center. You’re handed scant documents, vague leads, and a mandate to unearth the real identities and current whereabouts of your targets. You’ll be digging through stacks of papers, researching points of interest, and, yes, picking up the phone to chat with folks who might just spill the beans. Bits and bobs like photographs, business cards, private letters – all manner of paper scraps – will land on your digital desk, and it’s up to you to piece together the puzzle. Get it right, nail down their true names and hideouts, and you’re onto the next case. Satisfying doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Now, about those 'unintended side effects' I mentioned. *The Ratline*, named after the notorious escape routes for Nazis post-WWII, has an endearingly scrappy charm to it. You’ll find yourself juggling actual piles of paperwork on your pinboard, yet also typing keywords into some sort of anachronistic search machine that magically returns more documents. It’s the ‘70s, mate, but apparently we've got the internet's great-grandpappy hidden under the desk! And the phone calls? Oh, they’re a treat. You’ll ring someone on another continent, hang up, and *boom* – photos and documents appear instantly. It’s utterly absurd, a touch silly even, and initially, it makes you scratch your head wondering if you’ve somehow warped into a parallel dimension where postal services are powered by pigeons on Red Bull. But honestly? After a couple of cases, you just nod, accept the wonderfully muddled reality, and crack on. Perhaps it's just a universe where tech developed in profoundly odd directions – that’ll do. Let's get back to tracking down those bloody Nazi scoundrels.

Despite the occasional giggle at the game's anachronisms, the sheer satisfaction of cracking a tough case is immense. I heard whispers that one player, deep into Chapter 5 – 'The Case of the Sunburnt Nazi,' no less – had an epiphany only after realizing they’d been utterly ignoring the Spanish translation of a declassified CIA document. From that moment, apparently, everything just *clicked*. It’s those ‘aha!’ moments, when a seemingly disparate piece of info suddenly slots into place, that make this game sing.

And for when things get properly tricky – and this game *is* hard, make no mistake – there’s a built-in hint system. It starts with a gentle nudge, then a heavier hint, and eventually, if you’re truly stumped, it’ll just give you the solution. But here's a Jeff-certified tip, one that the game really should shout from the rooftops: *don't forget your previous cases*. If you're completely stuck, chuck the key names and places from your current investigation into your Evidence Journal's search boxes. You might be surprised at how often past connections illuminate present mysteries. Oh, and give the puppy a stroke now and then. He doesn't do anything, but he's always there, patiently dozing. (Though, I reckon the rolodex and the dog should swap places for maximum ergonomic efficiency – you'll see what I mean.)

For all its oddities and charming scrappiness, there's a profound pleasure in starting a new case, finding the right contact, sifting through a fresh packet of photographs, and slowly, deliberately, piecing it all together. It’s the kind of game that makes you want to grab a real-world notepad and pen (even though it transcribes everything and never loses documents), just to organize your thoughts. It’s a breath of fresh air, allowing you to slow down, to muse, to even wander off and Google some historical tidbits if it sparks an idea, then return to the game with fresh eyes. In a world of constant demand for instant gratification, *The Ratline* dares you to linger, to think, and to truly investigate.

*The Ratline* is out now on Steam for a mere $11.99. Go on, channel your inner digital gumshoe. You won’t regret it.

*Originally reported by John Walker for Kotaku on March 17, 2026.*

Tags: indie games, detective game, investigation, puzzle, historical fiction

Original article: kotaku