Summary
Dark fantasyand platforming may seem like an unusual marriage, but the genre has quietly birthed some of the most atmospheric, haunting, and mechanically rich titles in gaming. These aren’t just games that look gloomy—they’re saturated with loss, mystery, and worlds that feel long past saving. And yet, through tight jumps, eerie soundtracks, and brutal boss fights, they manage to pull players through unforgettable journeys.
Some lean toward action, others prefer environmental storytelling. Some want to break your soul with difficulty, others with beauty. But they all share one thing: a sense of dread wrapped in brilliance.
It didn’t take long for people to start callingSalt and Sanctuary“2D Dark Souls,” and honestly, it’s not hard to see why. There’s a heavy, oppressive atmosphere, a labyrinthine world filled with shortcuts and secrets, anda combat systemwhere every swing counts. But it’s more than just Souls with sprites—it’s a genuinely rich platformer with its own twisted identity.
Hand-drawn in stark, grimy lines that look like a nightmare scrawled in a notebook, the game’s visuals lean hard into bleakness. Towns are deserted, castles rot from the inside, and the world feels like it’s been slowly drowning for centuries. The class-based system lets players carve out wildly different builds, while the massive skill tree lets even similar runs diverge dramatically.
Platforming often takes a backseat to the brutal melee combat, but make no mistake—mobility and positioning are key here. One poorly timed jump can mean falling into a pit of poison or being cornered by something wearing too many bones.
Little Nightmares 2doesn’t just embrace dark fantasy—it practically suffocates players with it. It’s agame where childhood fears come alivein grotesque, exaggerated forms, where schoolteachers stretch their necks down hallways and faceless viewers stare endlessly from flickering TVs. And somehow, it’s still a platformer.
Set before the events of the first game, the sequel follows Mono and, eventually, Six, through a journey that gets darker the deeper they go. What starts in a haunted forest escalates into a television-obsessed metropolis that feels like a waking fever dream. The side-scrolling puzzles are tight, but what really makes them sing is the context—crawling through vents while being hunted, running from collapsing buildings, hiding under beds while the world above twists.
Platforming here is slow and deliberate, not built for speedruns but for suspense. Every gap jumped feels like it might be a trap. And it often is.
There’s something hauntingly beautiful aboutEnder Lilies. It’s a game where the world has ended, where once-holy knights have become tortured spirits, and where the only thing left standing is a young girl named Lily. Her silence says everything.
What makes this game special, aside from itsethereal soundtrackand watercolor-painting visuals, is its summon-based combat system. Lily herself never attacks. Instead, she calls upon the spirits of fallen warriors to fight for her, each with their own distinct move set. This builds a weirdly touching relationship with the very enemies players have to defeat. Kill them, then carry them with you.
The platforming is fluid, growing more complex as Lily gains new abilities like double jumps, air dashes, and water traversal. And the world—a ruined kingdom called Land’s End—is stitched together in true Metroidvania fashion, where every shortcut unlocked feels like an act of reclamation.
There’s not a single frame ofBlasphemousthat isn’t absolutely dripping with grim Catholic iconography and grotesquereligious horror. From the thorny crown nailed into the protagonist’s flesh to the enemies whose heads are literal censers swinging burning incense, this is a world where faith has curdled into punishment.
Set in Cvstodia, a land cursed by the miracle of divine suffering, the game leans into its platforming as a means of penitence. Spikes line the ground like accusations. Saw blades whirl in the halls of holy places. Players climb bell towers and descend into sepulchers, always with that same goal: to atone.
The sword combat is sharp and weighty, and the boss fights are unforgettable—giants stitched from bodies, crying statues, and bleeding saints. And while the Metroidvania structure lets players go back and forth freely, the real challenge is piecing together what the hell happened here. It’s all cryptic. Intentionally.
Everything inLimbois black and white, and yet it says more with shadows than most games do with colors. It’s a platformer stripped to its rawest form: one boy, a hostile world, and a whole lot of ways to die horribly.
There’s no dialogue, no music for most of the game, and not even a proper introduction. Players are dropped into the forest and left to figure things out. That forest, by the way, contains bear traps, giant spiders, and other children who definitely aren’t here to make friends.
Despite the minimalism, the platforming is tight, oftenpuzzle-focused, and occasionally cruel. Players will almost always die the first time they encounter a new trap. But death isn’t a punishment here—it’s a mechanic. The game teaches through trial and error, often toying with expectations before pulling the rug out in a blink.
IfLimbowas bleak,Insideis refined bleakness. A spiritual successor in every way that matters, it takes the minimalist formula and adds just enough new pieces to make everything worse, in the best way.
Players control a nameless boy fleeing something unseen, then something seen, then something incomprehensible. The world is a series of sterile laboratories, drowned farms, and dystopian cities. People march in lines, lobotomized by some unseen force. Pigs are mind-controlled meat sacks. And somewhere deep underground, something is waiting in a tank.
The platforming here is deceptively simple but masterfully designed. Every puzzle teaches without ever telling. Every chase sequence is choreographed like a nightmare ballet. And the animation, especially how the boy reacts to near-death, adds more tension than any soundtrack ever could.
Then there’s the ending. No spoilers, but it’s one of the most jarring tonal shifts in modern gaming, and somehow, it fits perfectly.
Hollow Knightdoesn’t need loud cutscenes or massive exposition dumps to tell its story. It tells it through abandoned cities, cryptic dialogue, and the corpses of once-great warriors slumped against broken thrones. Hallownest is a kingdom of insects, sure—but it’s also one of the richest dark fantasy worlds in indie gaming.
Platforming inHollow Knightis a precise dance. Jumps have weight, enemies punish poor timing, and entire areas like the White Palace push platforming to near-precision levels. And once players unlock the Monarch Wings, Mantis Claw, and Crystal Heart, the map opens up into something massive, interconnected, and absolutely dripping with hidden secrets.
Combat is deceptively deep, with charms that alter not just abilities but entire playstyles. Bosses range from tragic to terrifying, and the music knows exactly when to go quiet and when to scream.
There’s a reason this game became a cultural phenomenon. It’s not just a platformer. It’s a pilgrimage through a world that never got its ending—just an infection that refused to die.
