4.2 hours played
Written 25 days ago
| Rating: 4 / 5 – Buy it on SALE if you want five hours of feline parkour, cyber-neon vibes, and a dedicated “MEOW” key |
Stray is what happens when a Studio Ghibli cat sneaks into Blade Runner, knocks over every cup on set, and then speed-runs the exit route. It’s a cozy cyberpunk postcard crammed into 6 GB—smaller than most day-one patches—yet big enough to make you pause, purr, and screenshot every neon alley.
You’re not a magic lynx, a talking tiger, or Garfield with DLC lasagna powers—you’re just a regular orange alley cat who accidentally yeets itself into a robot undercity. That mundane heroism is the sell: squeeze through vents that would make Sam Fisher jealous, scratch rugs like you’re auditioning for DJ Catnip, and press the Meow button with reckless abandon (bonus: robots react with emojis).
Gameplay splits between two moods:
Linear chase-n-puzzle runs – outrun Zurk tribbles, lure drones into walls, and solve “Cat-lever” puzzles that mainly involve knocking precarious items off high shelves. No jump button; you Assassin’s-Creed auto-vault to highlighted ledges, so the only true boss fight is the camera angle.
Open hub hangouts – vertical sandbox towns where you fetch sheet music for a synth-bard bot, hack safes, and vibe on rooftops like a furry Spider-Man. Optional collectibles and hidden stories stretch the ~5-hour campaign into “one more catnap” territory.
Your drone buddy B-12 handles the talking, flashlight work, and exposition while you handle the adorable. Together you unravel a surprisingly heartfelt plot that starts “lost kitty” and ends “robots deserve sunlight too.” Expect wholesome feels with a sprinkling of existential dread—plus sudden horror beats when the Zurks swarm like bubble wrap with teeth.
Catnip Pros
Gorgeous art direction: neon puddles, rusted rooftops, and cozy robot apartments you’ll wish were Airbnb-able.
Atmosphere so thick you can taste the rain-soaked RGB.
Every cat trope lovingly weaponized: paw prints in paint, ankle-trip NPCs, mid-cutscene naps.
Soundtrack is lo-fi chill meets synthwave purrfection.
Hairball Cons
Platforming is on rails; wannabe speedrunners may feel declawed.
Story ends just as you fully master tabletop-pushing physics—call your therapist.
$30 for ~5 hours might sting—use those nine lives to wait for a sale.
Verdict: A short, shimmering adventure that nails the fantasy of being a curious cat in a world that desperately needs one. Play it, spam the Meow button, scratch every couch, then uninstall before your real cat sees you cheating with digital stray-felines.