What’s On The Shelf | Games, Music & Culture

Originally released in 2024 by Geometric Interactive, Cocoon arrives as another entry in Annapurna Interactive’s long run of indie standouts. Their catalog reads like a greatest hits list: What Remains of Edith Finch, Outer Wilds, Gone Home, Flower, Unfinished Swan, Neon White, Stray. It’s a track record built on distinctive ideas and a willingness to take risks, even if the post-2024 chapter is a bit more complicated.

Of those titles, I’ve played most, and while the gameplay can vary in quality, the storytelling almost always lands somewhere between memorable and exceptional. At minimum, Annapurna projects tend to swing big in an industry that often plays it safe. Cocoon continues that trend, with additional pedigree behind it—director Jeppe Carlsen previously worked on Limbo and Inside, two games that also leaned heavily into atmosphere and environmental storytelling.

Cocoon approaches its narrative in a way that feels both familiar and distinct compared to those predecessors. There’s no dialogue here. No exposition, no hand-holding. Everything is communicated through environment, motion, and implication. It’s a strange, abstract world, and the game makes no effort to explain itself in conventional terms. You play as a small beetle-like creature, an odd little freak moving through alien spaces, collecting orbs that function as both keys and entire worlds.

That central mechanic defines the experience. Each orb you collect contains a world within it, and those worlds can be entered, exited, and manipulated as part of the puzzle design. What starts as a simple concept gradually unfolds into something far more intricate. You’re not just traveling between areas—you’re carrying them with you, stacking layers of reality in ways that constantly reframe how you think about space and progression.

The opening desert world establishes this tone well. It’s a landscape of sharp geometry and warm, muted reds and oranges, where natural formations are interrupted by alien machinery pushing through the surface. That tension, organic versus constructed, runs throughout the game. As you unlock additional orbs, each new world introduces its own identity, both visually and mechanically. A water-based environment feels entirely different from the arid opening zone, not just in appearance but in how it asks you to think.

Mechanically, Cocoon is stripped down to its bare essentials. You can move, and you can interact. That’s the full toolkit. From there, the game builds increasingly complex scenarios out of very simple inputs. Orbs aren’t just portals, they’re power sources, puzzle pieces, and spatial anchors. You’ll use them to activate machinery, create pathways, manipulate terrain, and solve layered environmental challenges.

Progression is gated by a series of boss encounters, each requiring you to apply the game’s systems in slightly different ways. Given how limited your controls are, it’s notable how distinct these encounters feel. They don’t rely on reflex-heavy mechanics or traditional combat. Instead, they function as extensions of the puzzle design, asking you to understand and apply the rules you’ve been learning in new contexts.

Where Cocoon is most effective is in its atmosphere and sound design. With no dialogue to carry the experience, these elements do most of the narrative work. The audio is subtle but deliberate, reinforcing both tension and discovery. Visually, while some environments lean on familiar sci-fi archetypes—deserts, water worlds, mechanical ruins—the execution keeps them from feeling generic. There’s a cohesion to the art direction that makes each space feel intentional rather than derivative.

As someone who doesn’t typically gravitate toward puzzle-heavy games, Cocoon never pushed me away. The difficulty curve is measured. Challenges can require a moment of reconsideration, but rarely escalate to the point of frustration. The game consistently guides you toward solutions without making them obvious, which keeps the pacing intact. It avoids the common pitfall of overcomplicating its own ideas.

That balance is what ultimately earns Cocoon a Top Shelf Game Award. It’s a puzzle game that remains accessible without becoming simplistic, and inventive without losing clarity. Not every idea lands perfectly, but the weaker moments pass quickly as the game continues to introduce new mechanics and variations.

Players who already enjoy puzzle games will likely find a lot to appreciate here. Those who don’t may still find themselves pulled in, provided they’re willing to engage with something a bit unconventional. Cocoon doesn’t explain itself, and it doesn’t try to meet the player halfway in traditional ways—but that’s exactly what makes it stand out.