Step into a world where a lighthouse and a curious bird companion take you on a mesmerizing adventure in a game that’s truly a “Keeper”.
Prepare yourself for a surreal journey full of exploration, puzzles, and surprisingly emotional moments. I’m honestly not sure where to even begin with Keeper, and that shouldn’t be taken as a negative. The folks at Double Fine have always created emotionally surreal experiences, and after Psychonauts 2, it’s hard to imagine that they could get even weirder. But here we are: they absolutely have, with Keeper. It’s a tricky one to review.
In a lot of ways, Keeper is under-the-radar: if you were relying on Microsoft’s marketing to tell you about it, you’ve probably never heard of it. It’s surprising how little promotion this one got. I’ve seen far too many folks shocked to learn that Double Fine released another game. It’s a shame, because games like this matter.
When Microsoft funded this type of title, it delivered on the promise Phil Spencer made years ago: acquire smaller studios and let them work their magic. The game Keeper comes from Double Fine, the studio behind Psychonauts, but not from Tim Schafer’s direct hand this time. Instead, longtime art director Lee Petty steps in: he served as art director on Brutal Legend and Broken Age and directed projects including Stacking, Headlander, and Rad.
Here, he takes charge of what may be Double Fine’s most ridiculous idea to date: a platformer featuring an odd-looking bird and a sentient lighthouse with spider legs and a lighthouse that’s drunk, a narrative-led adventure with no spoken words, and a puzzle game with not particularly difficult puzzles.
The lighthouse does sober up quickly and find its land legs—and that’s when the journey begins. Where to? Well, that actually doesn’t matter. The point of the journey in games like this is not the destination but the experience.
You start with Twig, the bird companion, being chased by a dark cloud of critters known as the Withering. Twig finds refuge atop a lighthouse, which, for some reason, wakes up, tears itself from the earth, pulls in roots and rock to fashion spider legs, and learns to walk. This opening reminds me of something straight out of a Stephen King novel.
With Twig perched upon its lantern, the lighthouse strides off toward the mountain: the highest peak at the center of this surreal land.
The story is told without words, so it’s open to interpretation. Achievements you unlock contain more plot detail and world lore, though during my review, I couldn’t access them (they were disabled until launch). The narrative is conveyed through animation, sound, and world design: every area you step into feels like walking through a dream.
Gameplay centers on the lighthouse’s beam. At first, you use it to light things up; then you can focus it to affect the world: cause plants to bloom and weeds to wither. You’ll send Twig off to manipulate switches, shift rods, and solve puzzles.
The mechanics are layered gradually, so you learn like a baby learning to walk. A standout sequence: a city of mechanical beings made of lights and cogs—less terrifying than Return to Oz, but still odd and wonderful. This city is overseen by a larger machine that can manipulate time.
By manipulating time (and using your light mechanics), you collect parts, repair machinery, and watch the world shift from night to day. That moment when a building repairs itself before your eyes? Pure delight. It’s a shame the mechanic wasn’t used more.
One bold choice: you don’t control the camera directly.
Every shot in Keeper feels deliberate; the transitions and angle changes don’t mess with your controls (up doesn’t become down because the camera moved). It adds to the immersion of this bizarre world. That said, not everything is perfect. The fixed camera angles and art-driven design sometimes hinder intuitive movement.
In wide 3D spaces, the camera only slowly swings behind you when you move, meaning you can’t freely look around. It’s weird in 2025, when most games give full camera control, but here that limitation adds to the weird kind of charm they are going for. On several occasions, I couldn’t see what I needed to do because I entered a space at the wrong angle, and the objective was hidden. It never stopped me from enjoying the experience, but the friction is real.
Puzzle design is another mixed bag. The puzzles are simple—and for some players, that’ll be a hang-up. For me, puzzles in these kinds of games are more about pacing than challenge; they’re there to slow you down, not to test your brain. Others might disagree. Some mechanics repeat without strong variation.
At their weakest, puzzles involve time-shifting mechanics like moving back and forth to weigh down switches—sounds cool, but doesn’t always play to the game’s strengths.
However, the stronger puzzles are rewarding: for example, you reach a weird fairy-floss landscape covered in pink fluff, giving you the ability to fly, jump, and glide; you’re a lighthouse platforming in a candy-colored world. Simple stuff, yes, but elevated by the novelty of being a lighthouse in a platform game.
Movement’s got to be mentioned as well (despite the camera issues). The lighthouse starts wobbly, then strides confidently, dashes, and glides. Just when it feels like you’ve got it figured out, the game shifts: new movement mechanics. By the time the world is rushing by in a blaze with blistering electro beats behind you, you’re all in. Keeper becomes a blur of motion, color, and sound that sells itself through the feeling of momentum alone.
Floating turtle-like creatures, living rocks with gangly legs that dive into the ground when you shine your light on them, and gorgeous skyboxes create a living, breathing world. The HDR implementation is among the best I’ve seen in a while. Textures are rich and detailed—you’ll spot what looks like brush strokes on surfaces. It’s S for stunning.
The visuals aren’t alone. The soundtrack and atmosphere are fantastic, driving you through the world. Keeper is active, tapping along as you move and solve puzzles. It feels more like a traditional 3D platformer’s score than something purely an art venture. I’d compare it more to Grant Kirkhope than Austin Wintory.
Sometimes it feels like an odd fit—but it undeniably gives Keeper its own identity. In terms of sheer presentation, Keeper might be one of the most beautiful games yet. Whether you’re taking screenshots or simply soaking it all in, there’s rarely a moment across its five-hour runtime that won’t make you pause in awe.
From dusty plains and stampeding herds to red rock cliffs with sea views, your jaw and the floor will be touching at all times when playing this game. Each change is paired with a soundtrack that shifts restlessly. The visuals and audio merge seamlessly.
Now, I should note: Keeper isn’t exactly a long game. If you’ve got a free day, you can finish it in one sitting—and I did.
I was thoroughly captivated. The experience lasts around four to five hours, maybe slightly more depending on how much exploring you do. But the density of design means you never feel short-handed. Every moment counts.
That being said, if you’re the sort of player who loves massive open worlds and deep puzzle gaming, you might feel the puzzle design and progression are a bit too frictionless. The early hours are somewhat restrictive: you’re funnelled along a narrow path, with little experimentation allowed. But that’s by design—it prioritizes approachability over anything.
Later, the game opens up. The fixed paths give way to more agency, the puzzles become less obvious, and movement mechanics expand. Among cloud-kissed peaks and candy-floss spores, you’re allowed to become a platformer and drift past waterfalls and sky-whales—and then, if you keep going, you hit the really radical change of mechanics. It’s a revival of your sense of motion and space, and by the end, you’re sold.
Though talking about Keeper in this way in a review doesn’t do it justice. The best way to miss the forest for the trees is to break it down into its parts and evaluate each one separately. Individually, certain aspects of Keeper can creak a little, but never a lot.
Put together, all of these pieces harmonize to create something beautiful. And that’s the word I’d use to describe Keeper most of all. It doesn’t have the same mechanical reach as other games in this genre. It’s more comfortable sitting in the absurd than the overpowering. But its fantastical world and effortless flow make it the perfect chaser after you’ve just finished some 60-hour-long open-world RPG.
That is the sort of game that Double Fine regularly makes, and they’ve done it again here with Keeper. I recommend it to you. All told, I really enjoyed Keeper. It hooked me and didn’t let go until the credits rolled. I laughed, I gasped, and I beamed like a lighthouse. Double Fine, hardly a studio known to miss creative swings, came through once again.
