There was this moment in Moroi that truly made me sit up and pay attention. You know that instant when everything clicks into place, and you feel that electric jolt of realization? For me, it was when my in-game character willingly tossed himself into a talking meat grinder. “Something inside says do it!” he justified. Now, most games might have given a cheeky game-over screen after that stunt. But not Moroi. Instead, you go head-first into the grinder, which promptly rejects you because, apparently, you taste awful. This picky machine doesn’t make a fuss about it; however, later, it’s quite delighted when you offer it a severed hand (yes, you read that right) and then happily provides you with some bone dust. This “souvenir” turns out useful for an elderly woman needing to whip up some “soup”. You can see where this is going. After the machine digests the hand, it explodes, and your character, almost with a shrug, notes, “You are on fire.” And now armed with bone dust, you’re off again, causing chaos. It struck me then — this game ventures into wonderfully bizarre territory. And I was hooked.
The word “moroi” comes with some creepy connotations in Romanian folklore — referring to spirits or vampires feeding off the living. Honestly, I’m not quite certain how Moroi the game ties into these legends, but here’s what’s clear: you’re playing as this rugged, bearded man who wakes up in a peculiar prison, completely clueless about how he got there. Everyone around seems to recognize him, yet he draws a blank. Maybe, as one extravagantly dressed gentleman suggests, that’s actually a blessing in disguise.
Your initial challenge is all about breaking free, which involves tackling simple puzzles that boil down to “find an item, take it elsewhere.” One standout encounter is with a self-cannibalizing artist convinced that if his act isn’t his masterpiece, lightning should strike him down. Lo and behold, it does. You grab his severed hand, take it to the sentient meat grinder, and out pops some bone dust before it combusts. The tall, hat-wearing man acts as a guide, directing you to share this “salt” with an old soup-making woman who, how do I put this… gets a little too personal with her cauldron. “I’m starting to think that wasn’t soup,” your avatar quips dryly.
The game switches gears occasionally, incorporating combat after all those puzzles. It’s unexpectedly immersive. Fighting is straightforward — a top-down, twin-stick style that seems odd for puzzles but fits combat like a glove. The action is fluid, hits feel powerful, and on top of that, you get a nod to Doom’s intense Glory Kills that teleport you for satisfying slow-motion finishes. Oh, and let’s not forget the minigun that shoots harpoons. Now that’s hardcore.
Moroi’s beautiful madness unfolds as you find yourself solving quirky puzzles alongside chaotic combat. One memorable bit has you rescuing a duck with human teeth from a culinary fate, only for it to kindly offer up its teeth to enhance your gear. Thankful, it guides you away through its toothy means. Throughout, cryptic messages sporadically appear, hinting at deeper stories, while intriguing collectibles flesh out the world. Case in point: there’s an item hinting at a dish called Duck of Eternal Torment. Not to mention, there’s a letter from a fed-up maid resigning because all the furniture incessantly shifts overnight — she’s convinced the hauntings are real.
What truly shines is how unapologetically weird Moroi can get. Towards the end of my demo, I was cast as a peculiar winged doll, compelled by a larger doll (my mother, apparently) to help my tree-like siblings fend off a looming threat. It was odd but captivating in a way that grabbed my interest right at the start of the credits. I can’t quite pin down what Moroi plans to do next, but it’s piqued my curiosity nonetheless.
That said, the demo wasn’t without its flaws. There were bugs — once, the game crashed, and on another occasion, I got wedged between a door and a bookshelf, and even plummeted straight through the floor. Some parts of the script also felt a little shaky, but these are fixable issues. Ultimately, Moroi thrives on its eerie blend of mystery and dark humor. It kept taking me to unexpected places during my half-hour with it. I may still be puzzled about what a moroi entails in this context, but who wouldn’t want more of a game that features a meat grinder with refined tastes and a dental-defying duck?
