Koira review: Of dogs and dulcimers

Normally, a game trying so hard to be emotive like Koira does would make me wonder if it's using sentiment to cover for a lack of substance. Its delicate piano themes, the animal emphasis, the music swelling at just the right moments, and using a dog as its central point of attention – all these things seem tailored for easy emotional appeals, but Studio Tolima doesn't just want to make you protect a dog and smile at cute forest critters. The team uses these emotional connections to tell dozens of poignant little stories and give meaning to Koira's puzzles.

Won't you be my friend

Koira starts with you, alone in the woods. Shadows obscure your vision, and the only sound echoing through the forest is an ominous creaking from branches, upon which the only sign of life is a set of evil-looking owls. The nameless protagonist is visibly anxious, and even the forest's soft, pastel colors seem threatening. Then, they find a dog stuck in a trap, and everything changes, thanks in part to the dog's magical glowing nose that dispels shadows. Think of Zero in Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas, only not dead. 

At a glance, Koira seems like a modern spin on the 1946 Disney animated short Peter and the Wolf. In that adaptation of Sergei Prokofiev's story, an instrument represents every character – an oboe for the duck, a string quartet for Peter, and so on. Every vocalization is an instrument. Hearing staccato musical blasts every time the dog runs is adorable, but Koira also makes a little statement with it. 

It's a bit of the Land of Make Believe in Mr Rogers' Neighborhood. Fred Rogers used puppets, animals, and music to convey simple truths about the value of kindness and caring for one another, and Koira does the same, minus the puppets. Alone, the notes the player character, the dog, and even other wildlife make aren't enough to influence the world around them. When they take the time to learn the other's songs and sing together, they make friends and bring light to the forest.

The heroine's fear and gloom evaporate after they find this dog and begin caring for it. The forest takes on a less oppressive appearance as a result, with birdsong and light filling the air, and a palpable sense of joy in everything from your movement to the colors around you.

That darkness only stays at bay for a short time, though. The dog steps in a bear trap and becomes too scared to move, let alone to sing anymore. Seeing such a violent act in what, to that point, presents itself as a meditative game seems shocking at first. However, it's a striking reminder that wolves – to use the Peter and the Wolf comparison again – are prowling and won't hesitate to shred what little safety you create for yourself in an instant.

That's just one interpretation, of course. There's even a valid case one could make about it standing for the loss of innocence as a child grows up and encounters the world's evils, where games like hide-and-seek that they played in their youth take on more significance as you hide in fear of your life. If you want it to just be a cute puzzle game about escorting a happy dog through the woods, that's fine too. Koira is more interested in layers of meaning and symbolism than it is with making an effort to convey a central, specific message, and it's a better piece of art for it.

A different puzzle

The opening segment, where Koira teaches you how interactions with the dog work and what to expect while you're traveling through the forest, seems like a tutorial, but Studio Tolima resisted the urge to indulge in typical puzzle game structures and turn all this emotional setup into a gimmick. What you see at the start is what you get. Bigger and more serious things do happen afterward, frequently, but Koira never loses its balance. 

For every tense segment where you and the dog hide from a gun-wielding hunter or when fear extinguishes your companion's hopeful light, there's a quiet moment with the freedom to build a snowman or a chance to frolic with rabbits and watch butterflies float past. The rhythm makes Koira's quieter, beautiful moments feel even more poignant, and it acts as a strong complement to the underlying idea of taking time to find joy in small things, even when the outside world is frightening and overwhelming. On a more practical level, it keeps Koira from feeling predictable and stale. Saying you never know what's coming next is a bit of a hackneyed phrase, except it's completely true here.

Harmony in all things

Even better, Studio Tolima's approach to puzzle design leans more toward natural integration over challenge, and it's an impressive achievement. Sure, guiding petals to a highlighted spot on the map, figuring out how to avoid a hunter, or dealing with any of the obstacles Koira throws at you might not be mentally taxing, but it also doesn't take you out of the journey. There's no arbitrary progress blocker you have to tackle with tools or ideas that don't fit with the world's logic or the player character's abilities. Challenge is nice, but thoughtfulness in design is even better. Whether it's magical, malicious, or mundane, everything in Koira just works together. 

And Koira is frequently magical. Even the smallest, most seemingly insignificant moment, like watching the dog playfully run after a rabbit or picking flowers, feels like something special, a noteworthy occasion worth remembering.  Koira's character designs are a big reason why these moments work, too. They might be simple – the main character is almost literally just a silhouette with eyes – but Studio Tolima made them and their instrumental accompaniments exceptionally expressive to the point where it's almost impossible not to feel a sense of emotional connection.

Reading about Koira doesn't convey just how well-designed it is. It's a rare case where every piece of it, from the visual direction to the smallest part of audio design, exists in exquisite harmony. Sure, it still relies heavily on a specific kind of emotional appeal to pull you in, but when everything beyond that is this good, it's easy to overlook.

The publisher provided the Steam copy of Koira used for this review. Koira is available now for PC and PlayStation 5.

Josh Broadwell

Contributing Editor

Josh is a freelance writer and reporter who specializes in guides, reviews, and whatever else he can convince someone to commission. You may have seen him on NPR, IGN, Polygon, or VG 24/7 or on Twitter, shouting about Trails. When he isn’t working, you’ll likely find him outside with his Belgian Malinois and Australian Shepherd or curled up with an RPG of some description.