In a way, Neverending Nightmares is a walking simulator. In each segment, you rise from your bed, you traipse down the hallways, and you wish like hell you would wake up. You walk, and walk, and walk, and walk, but you seldom get that feeling like you're going nowhere. You know you're eventually going somewhere; you just dread getting there...
You see, this title sends you down hand-drawn hallways or exterior pathways, the terrain dotted by horrific imagery that hints at the truth behind your nightmares. You enter a kitchen at one point and stare down at a blood-stained meat grinder, a fresh paddy of red chunks glistening on the table next to it. Or you mosey down a dark hall lit only by the scant, intermittent moonlight shining through windows, sometimes revealing that a dark figure watches you from behind the glass.
At first, you think this horror-adventure only seeks to disturb you with visions. The second level seems to reinforce this by surrounding you with myriad deteriorating dolls, some with missing eyes or sport droplets of blood streaking their face. You think stuff like this might be creepy to look at, but it's no real threat. I mean, come on! Dolls? How are those going to be imposing? And never mind that Stuart Gordon movie... You find that answer a few corridors later, when a massive doll-faced ogre thumps his way down the hall, snatches you up in his arms, and gives you a delightful, blood-gushing hug.
Bear in mind: since these are nightmares you're experiencing, you never truly die. You simply wake up in another dream, ready to be further tormented by your own mind. You exit a room and meet a straight-jacketed patient, his eyes now gory, oozing holes. He greets you by pouncing on you and tearing out your jugular with his teeth. Later on, you meet a girl dragging a blade who splits you nearly in half, separating you in two at the shoulder down to your gut.
Oh, and to answer your question again: how are dolls supposed to be imposing? You find that one out later on, when a walking baby doll latches onto you and eviscerates you with naught but its bare hands.
Obviously, this game is gruesome and shocking, filled with visceral scares aplenty. However, it uses those blatant frights to get into your mind and work your nerves. You eventually become reluctant to enter almost any room, fearing that whatever happens to be dogging you at the moment will be waiting there. It conditions you to the point that you expect only one hazard to get you, only to ambush you with a completely unexpected and awful death that leaves the protagonist screaming in pain or misery.
You see, you get no reprieve in Neverending. You exit one hallucination and you end up in another, where you once again wander the halls looking for an event item or key location that will trigger a cutscene leading you to your next night terror. And you just keep doing it again and again, believing that you're never going to find any sort of happiness the longer you remain in Slumberland.
There is, obviously, more to the story than just some ambiguously-aged man-child voyaging down scary, liminal spaces before getting sucked under a bed by an unseen force or being compelled to tear his own blood vessels out of his arms. Our hero, Thomas, has an obsession with a girl named Gabby, who happens to be his...
His, what? Sister? Wife? Therapist? All of the above? It's impossible to figure out which of these versions of Gabby exists in reality, but all of his nightmares revolve around her and untimely death. At first, the game suggests that Thomas murdered her for whatever reason, plunging a knife into her torso before turning it on himself.
Through each version of Gabby, we see different ways in which we can antagonize ourselves. Variant actions taken during your travels lead you to one of three different endings, where the tale explores concepts like guilt, depression, or even childhood trauma. You begin to understand one thing that this game is trying to convey: that the mind can be the worst prison because we can never truly escape it.
Fans of the genre sometimes speak about how cathartic it can be for them, and the different ways it's helped them to cope with the harsh realities of life. Neverending is just such a title for me, as someone who lives with mental illness and occasionally guilt. I know full well how imprisoning your own brain can be because I've been locked in its cells many times. For my part, it's great to see a game that understands and conveys what I feel. I don't feel like the title is calling me out or putting me down; rather, it's saying it comprehends my struggles, and through that attestation I feel less alone.
Neverending Nightmares is terrifying, both in a visceral and cerebral sense. However, it's also a way telling us that it's only natural to find ourselves racked with terrible thoughts or stuck in nasty dreams because sometimes life isn't pretty. Sure, you get dollops of sweet moments that you will remember for ages, but you also deal with heartache, headache, and strife. Games like this are why some of us love this genre. It's not just about the wild movies with goofy characters running away from maniacs or demons or vampires or whatever. It's also about the stories that explore the mind in ways other mediums can't quite match, presenting its purveyors with content that's equal parts haunting and empathetic.
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Community review by JoeTheDestroyer (October 20, 2025)
Rumor has it that Joe is not actually a man, but a machine that likes video games, horror movies, and long walks on the beach. His/Its first contribution to HonestGamers was a review of Breath of Fire III. |
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