Dreamcore Review: Into the Blue

Light filters through as I pause by chrome handholds. I still can’t bring myself to wade into the pool. I’ve been staying on the cool white tile that wraps around the inner walls. It feels solid, safer. I have no more control over the ceramic tiles than the currents below, but fear keeps me grounded throughout Dreamcore.

I walk towards the source of the light, staying close to the tiled pillars. My path narrows, and then ends. Walls, handholds, water. And on the other side, a new stretch of tile. A shadowed doorway. I have no choice now–I lower myself into the pool. The clear blue water gently laps at me, but I still can’t shake that tautness from my shoulders. Anything could happen. But for now, only one thing does: I wade forward.

Other unsettling dreams: FLATHEAD Review: Accelerated Entropy

Scenes from the Subconscious

Dreamcore’s two worlds sculpt familiar scenes into something alien. An infinitely warping pool, complete with scattershot ambient light and ominous plastic slides. A fractal suburban green chopped up into bare-fenced yards and crowded interior hallways.

Only once do I truly jump out of my skin while playing. But my shoulders still tense. My heart still pounds. There is no tidy backstory for these pockets of silence. It’s something you feel, not something you study.

SCP entries and the more recent Backrooms have evolved from unsettling vignettes into their own elaborate–and yes, commercialized–lore databases. The resulting games and fan wikis are fueled by genuine passion, but their instinct to catalog puts me off. Thankfully, Dreamcore’s lack of a UI and explanation sidesteps most of my concerns. There are menu toggles for headbobbing, CRT filtering, and a VHS effect, but lore entries are nowhere to be seen.

Mental Mazes

Dreamcore only occasionally slips into level design obligation. I descend a seemingly endless staircase in the pool area, the narrow hallway growing darker and darker. I recall an earlier scare and my stomach tightens. What lurks at the bottom? More strategic pockets of silence? Or do these poolscapes coil into something grim further underground?

I feel slightly put out when the lower corridors simply branch out into all directions, as far as the eye can see. I follow one side of the wall, and then the other, eventually working out the edges of the space. But there’s no knot of tension left once I trudge back up the stairs. The underground may be a sly nod to the Backrooms, but in practice, this area just feels like a chore.

Two days after finishing Dreamcore’s current levels, I watched David Lynch’s ‘Mulholland Drive’ for the first time. There was a shared language in the deliberate stillness, the quiet. The protagonist having no choice but to march forward through turbulent waters. There’s no underground maze beneath Lynch’s titular ‘Mulholland Drive’, only trust that the viewer will piece things together.

‘Mulholland Drive’ shaded in cultural side pockets I had somehow missed, casting a shadow over the games industry’s overuse of the word liminal. Eerie and confusing level design isn’t liminal in the classical sense; you have to tip further into the unknown to be truly liminal.

That tension–wanting to unsettle and wanting to be solvable–crackles through Dreamcore. Sometimes it makes me grip my controller a little tighter, dreading the next corner. But at others, it releases that crucial tension in a hiss of stale air.

Shelf Stable

Dreamcore’s level select menu brings me back to the surface. Two thumbnails show the currently available Dreampools and Eternal Suburbia, while three others read “Coming Soon.” Below them are dates: Summer 2025, Winter 2025, 2026.

Let’s get this on record–Dreamcore isn’t an unfinished game or a simple proof-of-concept. It is complete and fully-formed. And if tabling a few levels got the Dreamcore team closer to a on-budget release schedule, I’m all for it.

Unfortunately, Dreamcore is also a commercial product subject to crushing market realities. Ideas don’t finance themselves. Without something tangible, a hook, a proven track record, making art is an independently funded leap of faith. No artist escapes the pull of this economic gravity.

How Do I Know When I’m Satisfied?

Financial backing in the games industry has slowed to a trickle as venture capitalists chase other windmills. The people who play games–myself included–have adopted the language of their storefronts. Instead of enjoying something, I’m “invested.” Instead of immersing myself in a show, I’m “binge watching.” How did this tiny shareholder break into my thought patterns? How can I get it out and avoid becoming the Her Story forum post?

After the next paragraph, I will assign Dreamcore a numerical rating with a list of pros and cons. The irony is not lost on me. I can’t completely shed commercial obligations, but I can give independent games more room to breathe. I’ll muffle the tiny shareholder in my brain and avoid easy conclusions. It’s tempting to stick to the sides of the pool. So instead, I’ll dive in.

Verdict: Dreamcore almost always keeps me guessing

Dreamcore’s interface and storytelling restraint keeps things fresh across two currently available levels. Occasionally it stumbles into unsatisfying level clutter, but otherwise it leaves the player to their own devices. This mix of trust and tension gives Dreamcore’s limited toolset of walking, running, crouching, and interacting a life of its own. And judging by the menu screen’s three forthcoming level thumbnails, players will have even more to enjoy in the future.

Great

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