ONIRIAM – Living The Dream?

When this game first appeared on the PlayStation Store, I had no idea what to expect. The trailer and gameplay videos offered no real insight, and honestly, it felt like just another low-effort AI-driven game that slipped through the cracks of the lackluster quality control we often see on modern platforms. Several reasons held me back from picking it up at launch, but the high price tag (£29.99) combined with my earlier doubts made it an easy decision to pass on it.

What Happened… ONIRIAM, WHAT IS THAT?

One thing I’ve noticed about videos, streams, or any kind of online content is that they’re often designed to appeal to the masses, to drive traffic, and to fit into what’s trending. In my opinion, this is one of those experiences you simply need to zone out and immerse yourself in. Don’t let anyone dictate whether you should like it or not—how ironic that I’m writing a review while saying this, right?

That being said, I’ll try to explain it through words and feelings, hoping it might spark your curiosity to give it a try—or at the very least help you determine if it’s completely outside your comfort zone.

To sum it up quickly: ONIRIAM is essentially a music-driven journey through dreams and nightmares, shaped by the choices you make. It revolves around a karma system and puzzles, offering both good and evil options. There are also personal questions woven into the experience, challenging how you might react to different situations and moral dilemmas. If that piques your interest, keep reading!

Vivid Dreams And Nightmares Form You…

Oh, you’re still here? I get it—you’re probably wondering whether there’s an actual game behind all this or if it’s just some kind of rolling video or passive experience. The answer is yes, it is a game—just not in the traditional sense.

In ONIRIAM, you wander through a series of surreal, dreamlike environments. Your goal is to open a portal to the next dream, but to do so, you’ll need to make karma-based choices. These decisions shape your path, sending you either into peaceful dreamscapes or darker, more haunting nightmares.

There’s no combat, no enemies—no “gamey” mechanics in the usual sense. It’s mostly about walking, climbing, and letting the atmosphere sink into you. The experience is subtle, meditative, and immersive—something that speaks more to your subconscious than your reflexes.

The Main Pull?

I actually ended up going through this “game” at least six times before I felt ready to take a longer break from it. My first playthrough was completely blind—I didn’t know what to expect, nor did I try to prepare myself. I took my time, exploring everything carefully, thinking there might be more hidden beneath the surface. When I finally reached the end, I had this moment of quiet realization—Oh! That was a genuinely pleasant surprise.

What struck me most wasn’t just the game itself but how deeply calming the entire experience was. It helped ease a lot of mental stress I hadn’t even realized I was carrying. And honestly, I believe the biggest factor wasn’t the gameplay, but the music—it constantly set the emotional tone in a way that felt truly immersive, something I feel many modern games have forgotten how to do. It added a spiritual layer that really resonated with me.

After finishing that first run—which took about an hour and a half—I was given a choice: to wake up or be reincarnated. I had earned positive karma, so naturally, I was curious. What would happen if I chose the opposite path? What if I pursued negative karma and made all the “wrong” choices? And so, I dove right back in to find out.

Let The Nightmares Begin…

After my first playthrough, I chose the wake-up option instead of reincarnation. I dove straight back in, this time aiming for negative karma—curious to see how the experience would shift. What I didn’t realize at the time was that choosing reincarnation would have offered a different perspective, a deeper dive into the dream world. But with such a short and intriguing experience, replaying it several times doesn’t feel like a chore—especially when the game is anything but boring.

As soon as the bad karma took hold, new environments began to appear—some of them haunting, both visually and sonically. They didn’t rely on cheap jump scares but rather evoked a deeper, more psychological tension. The atmosphere triggered my senses in a way that had me expecting something to leap out… but it never did. That restraint made it all the more immersive and perfect for those who usually steer clear of horror games.

The sound design in the nightmare sequences deserves special praise. The variety is striking, and each audio layer feels perfectly in sync with what’s happening on screen. It’s this kind of cohesion that creates a true emotional resonance.

The trailer mentioned that the music was composed by someone named Maestro Mario Rosini. I’ll be honest—I didn’t know who he was before this. But after experiencing ONIRIAM, he’s absolutely on my radar now. Whether the music was composed specifically for this game or carefully curated from existing work, I’m not sure. What I do know is that every track felt right, as if it was meant to be part of this journey.

The Verdict…

ONIRIAM is a bit of a mixed bag visually sadly. At times, it looks stunning—truly breathtaking. But in other moments, it can feel like the resolution drops or there’s a slight haze, almost as if your lenses have a subtle smudge. It’s never enough to break immersion or feel unpleasant, but it’s noticeable. With foveated rendering and a steady 90 FPS framerate, this could easily be improved, and I genuinely hope future updates polish these aspects. Why? Because let’s be honest—many people judge by visuals and performance before they even begin to connect with a game’s deeper essence.

That said, ONIRIAM is, like many VR experiences, something you absolutely need to play with a headset to fully appreciate. The sense of presence and immersion is everything here—it’s not something a TV /low stereo sound can convey.

For the trophy hunters out there: yes, the Platinum is well within reach. It’ll take multiple playthroughs, but if you connect with the experience, going back won’t feel like a chore—it’ll feel more like revisiting a meditative journey.

If you’re looking for something to compare it to, Tripp comes close—but that’s more of a guided wellness experience, not a game in the traditional sense. ONIRIAM blurs the line between interactive storytelling and therapeutic exploration.

Would I recommend it? Absolutely—but not to those expecting a conventional game. This is, first and foremost, a therapeutic experience. If you approach it with an open heart rather than a gamer’s checklist, you might just walk away feeling lighter, calmer, and more connected.