Tunic review – it's a marvel

Tunic turns its many influences into something that feels both familiar and gloriously new.

Six months after it first hit PC and Xbox Game Pass Finji’s delightful Tunic is stepping out into the wider world, with the isometric adventure coming to Nintendo Switch, PlayStation 4 and PlayStation 5. It’s very much the same game as we first played back in March, so to mark its wider release here’s our original review – and if you’re looking for tips as you get started we’ve a beginner’s guide to Tunic.

These are my favourite worlds. The best worlds, if you ask me. The best of all possible worlds. Not open worlds, not free-roaming, certainly not endless or procedural worlds. Instead these worlds are a bounded place, a place as boldly self-contained – as compact and weather-tested – as a bird’s nest in the high branches of an old tree. And as intricate too: woven together, each piece locked in position by dozens of other pieces. Maybe scavenged, maybe stolen, a thing reflecting a thousand other mini-things that came together to make it.

Tunic review

  • Publisher: Finji
  • Developer: Andrew Shouldice
  • Platform: Played on PC
  • Availability: Out now on PlayStation 4, PlayStation 5, Nintendo Switch, PC, Xbox (Game Pass), and Mac.

How do birds even know when a nest is complete? For a world like this, a world in a videogame, rather than up high in an old tree, completeness shows up in the details. It will be a single detail that sticks in the mind and makes you think: Cor! Look at that. Maybe I should be taking notes here. A single detail. It’s not something big. Generally, it’s something small. Something hidden. Tucked away, say, under a bridge?

Yes! Under the bridge, a campfire. Just say the words and I am back there. Late on in A Link to the Past, which is still arguably the best Zelda game, and certainly the most committed in its Zeldaishness, I realised that there was a gap in the map: a bridge, which may have had something under it. I found a path eventually, and under the bridge was a sleeping fellow lying by a campfire. Rustic domesticity. A pocket of cosiness in an increasingly frightening world.