Orten Was the Case

Orten Was the Case is a survival horror adventure game set in rural Sweden, where players are thrust into a gripping 12-minute time loop, blending puzzle-solving, open-world exploration, and action elements to uncover a dark narrative of mystery and terror in a haunting European landscape.

Orten Was the Case: Review

Introduction

Imagine waking up in a dingy apartment, barefoot and amnesiac, with only 12 real-world minutes before an apocalyptic explosion levels your entire hometown—only to relive that doomed cycle endlessly until you unravel the cosmic threads binding you to it. This is the claustrophobic, mind-bending hook of Orten Was the Case, a 2023 indie gem that transplants the existential dread of Groundhog Day and The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask into a gritty, hand-painted Swedish suburb. As a game historian, I’ve seen time-loop mechanics evolve from experimental curiosities in early 2000s adventures to narrative powerhouses in modern indies like Outer Wilds and The Sexy Brutale. Orten fits squarely in this lineage, but its solo-dev origins and watercolor visuals set it apart as a passion project that feels like a living, breathing painting come to life. My thesis: While Orten Was the Case masterfully weaves a dense, lore-rich mystery that rewards patient detectives, its ambitious fusion of puzzle-solving, platforming, and real-time dynamics is hampered by clunky controls and technical rough edges, making it a flawed yet unforgettable entry in the indie time-loop canon—one that prioritizes atmospheric immersion over polished execution.

Development History & Context

Orten Was the Case emerged from the singular vision of Oskar Thuresson, a Swedish developer and lead animator on Hazelight Studios’ critically acclaimed It Takes Two (2021). Published and developed under Thuresson’s own Woodhill Interactive AB banner, the game was a near-solo endeavor, with Thuresson handling art, design, programming, and narrative—exceptions being sound direction and music by Robin Carlheim-Müller and Max Galax (credited as Max Sjunnesson in some sources). This bootstrapped approach echoes the indie ethos of the early 2010s, when solo creators like Jonathan Blow (Braid, 2008) or Edmund McMillen (The Binding of Isaac, 2011) pushed boundaries with limited resources, but Orten arrives in a post-Hades (2018) era where Unity-powered indies dominate Steam and consoles.

Thuresson’s inspiration traces back to 2015, when he painted a sprawling, detail-rich cityscape titled Orten Was the Case That They Gave Us—a nod to Snoop Dogg’s “Deep Cover.” Fascinated by animating this static artwork, he imported it into Unity, prototyping a dynamic world where events unfolded in real-time. The game’s core 12-minute loop mechanic evolved from this, drawing from childhood influences like Swedish illustrators Jan Lööf and Sven Nordqvist, whose whimsical yet detailed worlds informed the hand-drawn aesthetic. Thuresson cited LucasArts classics (Day of the Tentacle, 1993) and Amanita Design’s Machinarium (2009) for puzzle logic, Majora’s Mask (2000) for time-loop urgency, and Outer Wilds (2019) for knowledge-based progression. The setting, a fictional mid-1990s Stockholm suburb called Orten, mirrors Thuresson’s hometown, blending graffiti culture, urban decay, and subtle mysticism to critique suburban ennui.

Released on November 29, 2023 (with some sources citing November 26 for early Switch access), Orten launched amid a crowded indie landscape saturated with narrative-driven adventures like Cocoon and Dredge. Technological constraints were minimal—Unity’s flexibility allowed cross-platform support for PC (Steam, Epic), PlayStation 4/5, Xbox One/Series, and Nintendo Switch—but Thuresson’s solo status meant compromises. The watercolor style was achieved by hand-drawing assets in Photoshop with four custom brushes, then projecting them onto 3D models using unlit shaders to preserve the 2D illusion in a 3D space. This innovative technique, while visually striking, contributed to navigation issues, as the flattened perspectives clashed with platforming demands. In an era of AAA polish, Orten‘s raw ambition highlights the indie scene’s strength: unfiltered creativity over budgetary bloat, though it underscores the challenges of solo development in a multi-platform world.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

At its heart, Orten Was the Case is a lore-driven detective yarn unraveling millennia-old secrets beneath a facade of suburban normalcy. You control Ziggy, a lanky, bug-eyed teen who awakens in his cluttered apartment with amnesia, a mysterious hand-mark granting time-loop powers, and no shoes—symbolizing his vulnerability in a world that’s already discarded him. The plot kicks off with Ziggy piecing together his identity: Where was he last night? Why does the town explode every 12 minutes? Initial loops are frantic survival dashes, but progression reveals a web of intrigue involving the Gravel Pit’s 60-year-old mining disaster, the shadowy Midnight Council (a cult-like group dabbling in occultism), and corporate overlords hiding eldritch horrors in Orten’s underbelly.

The narrative unfolds non-linearly, with each loop building on retained knowledge logged in Ziggy’s journal—a digital scrapbook of visions, NPC schedules, and clues. Optional side quests flesh out Ziggy’s backstory (drug-fueled teen antics, fractured friendships) and Orten’s lore (graffiti hinting at ancient rituals, posters alluding to a larger Swedish metropolis). Dialogue is sparse but punchy, delivered via text boxes with grunts and whispers—no full voice acting, emphasizing isolation. Characters like the breakdancing cop (a wannabe action hero spouting cheesy one-liners) or the farting shopkeeper add quirky humor, contrasting the horror elements: goblins in caves, masked summoners, and a goblin boss evoking spiritual dread.

Thematically, Orten probes suburban alienation and the illusion of routine. Orten’s residents are trapped in loops of their own—addicts, dealers, and eccentrics repeating mundane rituals—mirroring Ziggy’s plight and critiquing 1990s Sweden’s underbelly of economic decay and hidden mysticism. Themes of consequence ripple through: Altering one NPC’s path (e.g., saving a friend from a bad decision) cascades into revelations about the explosion’s occult origins, blending Majora’s Mask‘s fatalism with Machinarium‘s environmental puzzles. Multiple endings (from speedrun “bad” loops to lore-complete resolutions) reward thoroughness, but the story’s density can overwhelm; some threads feel underdeveloped, like corporate ties, prioritizing atmospheric unease over tidy closure. Ultimately, it’s a tale of reclaiming agency in a decaying world, where knowledge isn’t just power—it’s the only escape from eternal repetition.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

Orten‘s core loop is a elegant yet demanding fusion of adventure, puzzle, and light action, all constrained by a 12-minute real-time timer that resets on explosion, death, or manual reload. Ziggy starts each cycle in his apartment, inventory empty (limited to two items), but with permanent access to a logbook tracking clues, NPC timelines, visions, and objectives. Progression hinges on observation: NPCs follow dynamic schedules (e.g., a dealer arrives at 3:45), so loops involve timing interactions, collecting items like keys or bats, and altering events to unlock paths—caves below Orten hide puzzles requiring prior knowledge, like distracting a guard with a looped conversation.

Puzzles are the star: Inventory-based (combine a rope and hook for climbing), environmental (manipulate mirrors for illusory visions), and knowledge-gated (use a past loop’s clue to bypass a locked door). The semi-open world—apartments, streets, gravel pits, tunnels—encourages exploration, with hidden passages and optional quests (e.g., restoring Ziggy’s memory via drug-trip minigames). Checkpoints and a timeline fast-travel system mitigate repetition, letting you quantum-leap to unlocked moments, turning loops into iterative experiments rather than grinds.

However, innovations falter in execution. Platforming demands precise jumps and climbs, but controls feel floaty and imprecise—Ziggy’s movement is side-view 3D with a tiny white landing indicator, leading to misjudged falls (he takes damage without shoes, adding tension). No sprint button exacerbates backtracking in the dense layout. Combat, limited to two optional bosses (a goblin and a masked figure), is melee-focused: Dodge-roll (with generous i-frames) and swing a bat, but telegraphed attacks make it trivial, feeling tacked-on and at odds with the puzzle emphasis. UI is functional—a minimalist HUD with timer, health, and logbook—but lacks mouse support on PC, forcing controller/keyboard navigation that’s cumbersome for pointing.

Flaws abound: Bugs block progress (vanishing items, untriggered objectives), and the real-time pressure clashes with finicky platforming, especially on Switch where low-res assets worsen spatial awareness. Yet, accessibility options shine—adjustable clue hints, checkpoint density, and “easy” combat modes—making it approachable for newcomers. At 8-12 hours (longer for completionists), the systems innovate on time-loop tropes, rewarding deduction over reflex, but demand patience amid the rough edges.

World-Building, Art & Sound

Orten pulses with a lived-in decay that elevates Orten Was the Case from puzzle game to atmospheric horror-adventure. The setting—a fictional 1990s Swedish suburb on the edge of a nameless metropolis—blends banal urbanity (graffiti-tagged apartments, littered streets) with subterranean weirdness (mossy caves, ritual altars). World-building is environmental: Posters hint at corporate scandals, NPC routines reveal social fractures (addicts trading in alleys, a cop patrolling with gymnastic flair), and the Gravel Pit’s lore unfolds via collectible visions, tying personal amnesia to ancient mining curses and the Midnight Council’s occult meddling. It’s a sandbox of secrets, where every loop peels back layers of a town that’s equal parts familiar and foreboding, evoking Machinarium‘s industrial whimsy but with a grimy, existential twist.

Visually, Thuresson’s watercolor style is the game’s triumph: Hand-drawn Photoshop assets (using brushes mimicking paint strokes) are projected onto 3D models via Unity’s unlit shaders, creating a 2.5D illusion where Ziggy navigates flat, illustrated backdrops. The result is a “living painting”—grotty textures of peeling wallpaper and foggy tunnels contrast Ziggy’s cel-shaded, fish-lipped design, which some find creepy but thematically fitting for an outsider. Perspectives shift subtly (e.g., depth illusions in mirrors reveal hidden horrors), building unease, though low-res on Switch muddies details, and character models sometimes clash with the painterly environments.

Sound design amplifies the immersion: Carlheim-Müller’s ambient score dynamically swells—eerie synths for caves, jaunty folk for streets—synced to the loop’s progression, freezing during menus or puzzles for breathing room. No voice acting means text-driven dialogue, punctuated by grunts, whispers, and environmental SFX (dripping water, distant explosions), fostering a hushed, voyeuristic tension. Together, these elements craft an atmosphere of unsettling familiarity: Orten feels oppressively real, its decay not just visual but auditory, turning every loop into a descent into suburban surrealism.

Reception & Legacy

Upon launch, Orten Was the Case garnered solid but polarized reception, averaging 71% from 10 critics on MobyGames (7.0 overall Moby Score) and a “Generally Favorable” 8.8 user score on Metacritic from five ratings. Commercial performance was modest for an indie—priced at $14.99, it sold steadily on Steam (App ID 1785420) and consoles, bolstered by cross-platform availability, but lacked blockbuster hype. Critics praised the narrative depth and art: Adventure Game Hotspot (82%) lauded the “satisfying twelve-minute puzzle,” while GameGrin (80%) highlighted “interesting ideas” for genre fans. PS4Blog.net (75%) appreciated the “dark adventure” twists, and TheXboxHub (70%) enjoyed the “hand-drawn animation and strange characters.”

Detractors focused on execution: Adventure Gamers (60%) called it a “good game with noticeable flaws,” citing floaty platforming and weak combat; Niche Gamer (60%) slammed “spotty playability” on Switch, where assets looked “rugged.” Gameluster (70%) noted “wonky movement” undermining the emotional narrative, and Press Play Media (68%) urged post-launch fixes for bugs. Unscored reviews from Gameplay (Benelux) compared it favorably to Machinarium with a Groundhog Day twist, dubbing it a “toppertje” (gem). Player feedback echoed this: One MobyGames user rated it 3/5, appreciating the loop but critiquing controls.

Over time, its reputation has solidified as a cult indie, with patches addressing bugs and improving stability. Influencing the time-loop niche, Orten echoes Outer Wilds‘ knowledge progression while innovating watercolor 3D—paving the way for visually experimental adventures like 1000xRESIST (2024). As a solo project, it exemplifies indie resilience post-2020 pandemic boom, inspiring creators to blend personal art with genre tropes. Commercially niche, its legacy lies in proving small teams can craft dense, replayable worlds, potentially influencing future Unity indies blending 2D art with 3D mechanics.

Conclusion

Orten Was the Case is a audacious indie triumph wrapped in frustrating imperfections—a time-loop odyssey where Ziggy’s barefoot scramble through Orten’s underbelly unveils a tapestry of suburban horror, occult intrigue, and human frailty. Its narrative web and watercolor world-building captivate, delivering 8-12 hours of detective satisfaction that honors Majora’s Mask while carving a Swedish surrealist niche. Yet, imprecise platforming, sparse combat, and launch bugs temper the experience, reminding us of solo dev’s double-edged sword: boundless vision meets resource limits.

In video game history, Orten earns a spot among indies like Braid or Machinarium—not flawless masterpieces, but bold experiments that prioritize artistry and ideas. For puzzle enthusiasts and time-loop aficionados, it’s essential; casual players may balk at the quirks. Verdict: A qualified recommendation (7/10), destined for cult status as a testament to indie ingenuity, urging players to loop back and uncover its hidden depths. If Thuresson iterates on a sequel, it could explode into something truly transcendent.