Have you ever wondered what it might feel like to be dropped into the Paleolithic era with nothing but your bare hands and a hunger for purpose? In that case, Neanderthallica answers that question with a resounding grunt-oengaboenga at its finest, and not necessarily in a bad way. Somewhere buried beneath the flint-knapping and mammoth-marrow gathering is a game that could have told a rich, tactile story of early humanity but much like the Neanderthals it seeks to emulate, it struggles to articulate its ideas beyond a primitive murmur: Oeh-oeh-bahhhbah (rough translation: let’s dive in).
Let’s get the positives out of the way: there is a world here, a genuine sense of place. The murky, dangerous wilderness is atmospheric, with hand-crafted environments that evoke forgotten myths and the age of survivalists (with a touch of sci-fi even). The visual language is intentionally primitive yet cohesive, and almost feels like texting with a teenager using only emojis. The problem is that, after a few hours, those whispers begin to repeat themselves and instead of unearthing narrative depth, you’re just… digging.
Crafting: more than just stone tools, less than Civilization
So, let’s focus a bit on gameplay first, it will make my point of view much clearer, and explain why I think there is more to this game than it currently shows. Crafting is a core pillar of Neanderthallica, and at first, it’s gratifying. You gather things like leather, bone, and stone, and soon you’re building, upgrading clubs, and unlocking the next tier of very slightly less miserable survival. But eventually, the system begins to feel more like busywork than evolution. There’s a distinct lack of meaningful progression for every new crafting recipe you unlock, you’re often just greeted with a more expensive version of something you’ve already built. And herein lies a philosophical divide: crafting should serve narrative or mechanical momentum. Here, it primarily serves as a means to an end. And often, without explanation, what you need to craft to progress in the story.
The grind: survival as sisyphus
Speaking of grinding (did I mention grinding?), Neanderthallica doesn’t just flirt with grind it settles down, and raises a family of repetitive fetch quests. Whether it’s hoarding animal hides or foraging for obscure plants only found in distant, enemy-infested pockets of the map, everything feels like it takes slightly too long, not in a deliberate, survivalist way, but in a ‘we didn’t balance this loop yet’ way. You often find yourself retracing paths, slowly trudging across the same terrain, only to realize you forgot to craft a tool for the one thing you needed. The game’s glacial pace might have made sense in a thematic context after all, early man didn’t have fast travel or a map. However, in practice, this lack of friction results in a thick, tar-like experience. It wants you to feel lost, which is fine, but then it punishes you for it, which isn’t. Especially with the amount of dying, you’ll die searching for items, since enemies hit hard (a bit too hard sometimes).
Story:
What surprised me most was the almost poetic attempt at storytelling through environmental cues and tribal symbology, a kind of caveman noir where glyphs do the talking. But these elements never truly change into a compelling train of thought. Something is fascinating about the idea of telling a story without modern language, but what’s left is a project that’s too ambiguous, too sparse. The dream sequences hint at ancestral memory or mythic struggle, but they never anchor the player emotionally. Ultimately, you don’t feel like you’re progressing through a story. You feel like you’re wandering through disconnected pieces of a storyline that might mean something, or might be cave doodles. And that’s a shame, since there is so much room for an awesome Metroidvania.
Directionless by design, but also by mistake
To its credit, Neanderthallica deliberately forgoes modern HUD clutter, tutorials, and even a clear objective structure. In theory, this should foster exploration, force intuition, and immerse players in the mindset of early man. But theory is not practice. What happens is that players, especially those without clairvoyant instincts, will find themselves fumbling. A lot (like me). And while that might be thematically appropriate, it doesn’t make for an engaging experience after hour three of “where do I go next?” The most damning thing I can say is that I spent more time figuring out what the game wanted from me than actually doing it. And that’s a problem no amount of mammoth skulls can fix.
Conclusion:
There’s a beautiful, almost meditative experience buried somewhere inside Neanderthallica, but it’s wrapped in layers of grinding and underdeveloped storytelling. With more narrative scaffolding, a tighter crafting loop, and a gentler hand guiding the player through its prehistoric fog, this could have been a genuinely profound journey. Instead, it’s a slog through promising terrain that rarely rewards the effort it demands. Still, if you have the patience of a shaman and the tenacity of a saber-toothed tiger, there’s something raw and primal here. Just be prepared to work for it. And work. And work. Did I mention work?