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Dreamcore Review: Rooms With A Perplexing View

Dreamy? Not quite.

Dreamcore Review
Source: Screen capture

Dreamcore? More like Nightmarecore/Snorecore. AmIright? During some Steam Next Fest event or another, I’d had the pleasure to give Dreampools – the first chapter – a run through and was pleasantly surprised at the enchanting aesthetics and ambience. Though it was only a demo, I didn’t finish it, but liked what I saw.

The core game has a steady release calendar of chapters, with Liminal Hotel being the latest, and presented with the opportunity to cover, I started anew from the first chapter in anticipation of Montraluz’s release. An element of regret kicked in relatively quickly, with a slow-burning level of frustration I don’t quite recall ever having with a game.

Starting with Dreamcore’s Dreampools, you enter an enormous underground complex that resembles a modern spa, though it is essentially a 500-room, perplexing maze. Part of the Backrooms subgenre, the game is an acquired taste. There are no HUDs, no NPCs, no puzzles, and one objective: escape. Without knowing anything about it, the enjoyment factor that began was delving into the unknown, with the thought that something sinister was lurking around every corner.

Dreamcore Review - Suburbia
Suburbia. Source: Steam

An oversized ball with a ’90s acid face rolls towards me as I pass for the second time, but other than that, there’s nothing else going on. Visually, Dreampools is stunning, as too is the subdued sound production of echoes, footsteps, and Brian Eno ideas. But that is all. After two hours of aimlessly wandering, it becomes evident that I need a flashlight. Eventually, I find it, then head down into a basement, completely void of light and entertainment.

What ensued was an incredibly frustrating experience where I was quietly raging inside, stubbornly aiming to finish it and not be defeated. Five hours later, as I left it running as I wasn’t sure if there was an autosave, I looked up a walkthrough and started again, following some sanity-saving influencer so I could see what the reward would be. A lift. Cue credits and nothing else, and it was now a case of waiting for Liminal Hotel’s release so that I could get on with that.

I got my daughter to play the second chapter, Eternal Suburbia, who immediately created her own experience, which was far more entertaining than the actual game. She woke up, headed outside into a sea of similar homes, noticed the sun was setting, and then immediately headed back home to bed. She did this three times, complete with a running commentary (infuriated that the alarm clock remained the same while night became day). Shortly after this, she asked to play something else. I agreed.

Dreamcore Review - Check-in
Check-in. Source: Steam

Going into Dreamcore’s Liminal Hotel was a reasonably clean slate. I like to be both optimistic and somewhat diplomatic in my assessments, but based on just two of three chapters, I wasn’t completely sold. Still, benefit of the doubt, it was time to play Liminal Hotel and hopefully this would be a better experience. While I haven’t seen the light, nor am I committed to selling you this fine ol’ snake oil, the experience has been better. Mildly frustrating that I had to wait until the release date, the same as you peasa- fellow gamers, I’ve managed to steamroll through it, at the sacrifice of achievements, and come away in a better mood.

Anyone entering a Premier Inn, Holiday Inn, or whatever chain you’re familiar with will know those corridors, the same-looking doors, a lick of paint, or ‘duck feathered’ pillows that grace each room, only distinguished by the number on the door. Only, Liminal Hotel doesn’t have that number on the door, and each room you walk into feels like the one before, only… different. Like a dream. Somehow, this fourth encounter with Dreamcore has me a little spellbound. Sure, the template is the same: listen carefully, pay attention, and display just an ounce of patience to get through the grind, but the scenario now feels <ahem> real.

If we’re talking lucid mazes of confusion, distress, and still, impatience, then Liminal Hotel fits the bill. It doesn’t have that same vaporwave aesthetic of Dreampools, though it’s much more indulgent, surreal, and somewhat escapist. Yes, this is the best iteration thus far. It hasn’t sold me on the Backrooms subgenre or whatever it’s classed as, and I’m still quite irritable at the time spent in the first chapter. However, I’m gradually getting it, and by the time of the final chapter in 2026, maybe I’ll never want to leave…