MIO: Memories in Orbit Review: The Metroidvania That Respects Your Time [2025]

Last year felt like watching the gatekeepers of Metroidvania double down on brutality. Hollow Knight: Silksong arrived like a boss rush marathon nobody asked for, and it was brilliant but unforgiving. Then January 2026 hits and Douze Dixièmes drops something different—MIO: Memories in Orbit.

This isn't a game trying to break you. It's not trying to be "the hardest Metroidvania ever." Instead, MIO understands something that gets lost in the hype cycles: what makes the genre actually special isn't pain, it's discovery. It's exploration. It's finding a secret you didn't know existed and realizing you could've reached it five areas ago if you'd been paying attention.

After spending 15+ hours with MIO across PS5, I can tell you this is the real deal. Not perfect, sure. The combat gets repetitive, some boss runs are tedious, and those vertical lifts between areas feel purposely slow. But the core design is so smart, so intentional, and so refreshingly thoughtful that these issues barely matter.

Here's what surprised me most: MIO never tries to trick you. It respects your intelligence. The moment you see a grapple point you can't use, you know why, and you know exactly what ability will unlock it. The moment you hit a locked door, the game's already shown you what you're looking for. Veterans of Super Metroid or Hollow Knight will feel that instant comfort—a sign of genuinely good design.

But this isn't just a competent throwback. The setting—an AI-controlled spaceship called The Vessel slowly dying in the void—creates this contemplative atmosphere that most games miss. You're not saving the world. You're racing against time to prevent a civilization's peaceful shutdown. That's weirdly poignant for a game about bouncing between robot corpses and spike traps.

Let's dig into what makes this worth your time, what holds it back, and whether this should be on your radar if you loved Hollow Knight, Blasphemous, or Ori.

TL; DR

• Metroidvania done right: Smart level design, intuitive ability gating, and zero bullshit tutorials—if you've played the genre, you know what to do
• Gorgeous art and sound: Hand-drawn 2D visuals pop with color and life, backed by an original score that ranges from ethereal to pulse-pounding
• 12+ hours minimum, 20+ hours for completionists: Solid value with meaningful secrets and post-game bosses that'll punish your overconfidence
• Combat isn't the focus: Enemy variety is basic, boss runs are slow, but the platforming more than compensates—this game wants you exploring, not fighting
• Story hits different on second playthrough: Lore crumbs and NPC dialogue become devastating once you understand the context

Each biome in MIO features a distinct color palette, enhancing the visual identity and aiding navigation. Estimated data.

The Setup: A Spaceship on Life Support

You play as Mio, a nimble robot crew member aboard The Vessel, a colossal AI-controlled spacecraft that's been humanity's home for generations. The ship is dying. Its core systems are failing. The AI is shutting down.

Your job: collect five Mac Guffins scattered across the ship's dying systems, restore them to the central hub, and prevent a civilization from going dark forever.

It's a simple premise—five things, collect them, save the day. But the execution transforms this into something resonant. You're not fighting an evil overlord or stopping an apocalypse. You're performing triage on a home. The story unfolds through environmental storytelling, NPC conversations, and readable terminals scattered throughout the ship. Nothing's forced. Nothing's explained through dialogue dumps.

The Vessel itself becomes a character. Early on, it's sterile and organized: the Metropolis district with its gold-plated buildings and imposing geometric architecture feels like a memory of prosperity frozen in time. As you progress deeper, things deteriorate. Gardens overgrow with hostile flora. Mechanical sections rust and break apart. The further you go, the clearer it becomes that The Vessel was dying long before the story started.

This environmental decay matches the game's pacing perfectly. The first few hours feel breezy. You're learning platforming basics in well-lit, relatively safe areas. Then you enter the Vaults—the mechanical bowels of the ship—and the difficulty ramps hard. Suddenly you're threading through laser corridors and performing pixel-perfect jumps over spiked pitches. The world's collapse mirrors your progression from tourist to veteran explorer.

Estimated data shows a steady progression in abilities and power boosts over 12 hours of gameplay, enhancing player capabilities without overwhelming them with stats.

Exploration and Level Design: The Genre's DNA Done Right

Here's the thing about Metroidvania design: it's not complicated. You lock players out of areas until they have specific abilities. You scatter those abilities across the world. The fun is in the "aha" moments when you realize you can finally reach that high ledge or break through that cracked wall.

MIO executes this formula with surgical precision. You'll explore an area, hit a roadblock, grab a new ability three levels later, and suddenly 40% of the map opens up. It clicks. It feels natural. Nothing feels arbitrarily gated.

The level layouts themselves are gorgeous interconnected webs. Douze Dixièmes clearly studied how Super Metroid and Hollow Knight use verticality to create natural flow. You're constantly moving between heights, using momentum to cross chasms, managing your wall-jump energy strategically. The platforming challenges escalate gradually but meaningfully—by the midway point, you're performing navigation sequences that require all your learned skills simultaneously.

What impresses me most is how the game trusts your spatial awareness. It doesn't paint glowing paths or use quest markers. It shows you possibilities through visual design. See a grapple point? You'll use it later. See a door with a distinctive symbol? That symbol appears on new weapons once you obtain them. The game speaks the language of the genre fluently.

Secret areas are placed thoughtfully—not as punishment for missing obvious shortcuts, but as rewards for players willing to explore every corner. The game sprinkles optional challenges throughout: hidden boss encounters, alternative paths that require mastery of a specific mechanic, rooms containing upgrade-equivalent currency. By late game, completionists can find power-ups that increase health, defense, and attack power—so hunting secrets becomes mechanically meaningful, not just for story nerds.

One area I found myself returning to repeatedly is the Crystalline Caverns. It's this glittering underground network where the visual geometry creates natural landmarks. You navigate by environmental memory, not by following paint-by-numbers directions. That's phenomenal design.

Combat: The Genre's Weakest Link (But Not Here)

Let's be direct: combat isn't what makes MIO special. The game knows this and doesn't pretend otherwise.

Your main attack is a swipe with your blade. You unlock additional weapons as you progress—a heavy overhead strike, projectiles, a spinning attack for crowd control. By endgame, you have maybe five weapon variants. You'll encounter maybe fifteen enemy types: basic corrupted robots, flying variants, ones that explode on death, a few with special telegraphed attacks.

On its surface, this sounds repetitive. And honestly? It gets a little stale in the mid-game when you're fighting the same corrupted robots for the hundredth time.

But here's where MIO's encounter design saves it: combat situations are sparse. This isn't an action game pretending to be an exploration game. This is an exploration game that includes combat as a pacing tool. Most rooms let you skip or bypass enemies entirely. Early encounters exist to teach you attack patterns. Mid-game fights integrate with platforming—you're dodging attacks while navigating moving platforms. Late-game encounters demand you use environment awareness, not just button mashing.

Boss fights are where combat actually shines. There are roughly twelve boss encounters, including optional superbosses. The best ones feel like platforming challenges wrapped in boss skin. You're memorizing attack patterns yes, but you're also managing the arena—when the ground becomes dangerous, you're climbing walls to stay safe; when certain zones get hazardous, you're using mobility tools to navigate. The final boss is genuinely spectacular, forcing you to use every tool you've learned across the entire game.

The frustration point is boss runbacks. Several boss encounters require 3-5 minute approach sequences before the actual fight. Dying means redoing those corridors. It's artificial difficulty padding and it shouldn't be there. Douze Dixièmes understood good design everywhere except in this one area, and it sticks out.

Difficulty balancing is solid. Normal mode is accessible for newcomers while still providing meaningful challenge. Hard mode (unlocked post-game) takes the superbosses from "tough" to "you need to respect the patterns" territory. I'm not talking Elden Ring punishing, but there's meat on these bones.

Estimated data suggests that players spend a balanced amount of time across various post-game activities, with superbosses and new game+ mode taking up the largest share.

Presentation: Where Budget Becomes Art

Here's what hits you first: MIO looks phenomenal. The hand-drawn 2D art style doesn't compete with AAA photorealism or cutting-edge 3D animation. It doesn't need to. Instead, Douze Dixièmes nailed something harder—cohesive visual identity.

The color palette shifts with each biome deliberately. The Metropolis uses golds, grays, and cool blues—giving it a maintained-but-abandoned feel. Gardens explode with greens and threatening reds. Deep mechanical sections are rust browns and dangerous purples. Crystalline areas sparkle with translucent whites and cool teals. This isn't just pretty; it's functional. You visually understand where you are without maps or markers.

Character design deserves its own paragraph. Mio is instantly iconic—a small robot with a flowing cape (where does it go when she runs? mystery), with data streams leaking out the back of her head like digital hair. It's weird. It's charming. It communicates personality instantly. The NPCs you encounter are equally memorable: big-headed robots with googly eyes, their expressive animations creating emotional beats without dialogue.

The animation is fluid without being excessive. Movement feels responsive. Mio's idle animations tell you what's happening—she straightens up when discovering secrets, slumps when approaching danger. Combat animations have weight without slowing down gameplay.

But the real MVP is the soundtrack. Composer (name not credited clearly in my notes, but major respect) created this diverse score that ranges from ethereal choral singing to funky electronic beats to pulse-racing boss themes. There's this one section—I won't spoil which—where the music becomes so perfectly suited to the environment that I literally stopped playing to just listen. That's rare. That's the mark of an artist who understands their medium.

Sound design supports the music perfectly. Footsteps have weight. Weapon impacts feel weighty. Enemy attacks telegraph clearly through audio cues. The ship's ambient noises—humming machinery, creaking metal, distant warnings—create this sense that The Vessel is actively deteriorating around you.

Performance on PS5 is locked at 60fps with no drops I noticed. I tested on Switch as well (a review copy was available)—it runs at 30fps and the frame rate feels consistent. Visually, both versions look nearly identical, though the docked Switch version has slightly more visual pop than handheld due to screen size.

Progression Systems: Subtle But Effective

MIO doesn't overthink progression. You collect new abilities that unlock new traversal options—standard Metroidvania fare. You find upgrade items scattered throughout the world that increase health, defense, and attack power slightly. Collecting all of them gives you roughly a 20-30% boost by endgame, but they're optional.

Weapons don't have tiers or rarity ratings. You unlock new attack types, but your basic blade remains viable throughout the game. This is deliberately humble—the game isn't trying to make you feel weak to sell you upgrades. You're strong enough. The challenge comes from enemy placement, arena design, and your own skill.

One clever system: Mio learns passive abilities that modify her core stats. Collect enough ambient orbs hidden in the world, and you unlock passive bonuses like "increased wall-jump height" or "faster recovery after taking damage." These feel impactful without being numerically overwhelming. You're not tracking a spreadsheet of stats; you're noticing that you move a bit smoother, hit a bit harder.

There's also a basic upgrade currency dropped by enemies and found in chests. This converts into additional stat bonuses. It's minimal but functional—grinding isn't necessary, but if you hunt enemies strategically, you can eke out a small advantage.

The progression pacing is excellent. You acquire new abilities every 1-2 hours on average. Each ability either opens new traversal options or changes how you approach existing platforming. By 12 hours in, you've accumulated a toolkit that lets you pull off sequences that felt impossible 8 hours earlier. That power fantasy—not through stats, but through mastered mechanics—is incredibly satisfying.

Post-game unlocks harder difficulty, additional boss challenges, and new game+ mode that lets you keep your abilities while raising enemy difficulty. That's solid endgame content for players who want more punishment.

MIO excels in technical performance with high ratings across frame rate, load times, and controls, showcasing a rare polish for a midbudget indie game. (Estimated data)

The Story: Lore That Hits Harder on Reflection

MIO's narrative won't win literary awards. It's straightforward: civilization is dying, prevent the shutdown, collect Mac Guffins, restore the system.

But the way it unfolds is sophisticated. The game doesn't explain the backstory through cutscenes or exposition dumps. Instead, you piece it together from NPC dialogue, readable terminals, audio logs, and environmental storytelling. The more you explore, the clearer the picture becomes. On second playthrough—and there absolutely should be a second playthrough—everything lands differently.

Without spoiling anything: the story asks a genuinely uncomfortable question about what people owe to each other, and whether preventing suffering through forced shutdown is mercy or tragedy. It's not heavy-handed about it. The narrative trusts you to find meaning without hitting you over the head.

The NPCs you meet are the emotional core. There's a scientist obsessed with understanding why The Vessel is dying. There's a maintenance worker who's spent decades alone in the lower decks. There's the captain, trapped by duty and failing systems. None of them are particularly complex, but they're present—their struggles feel genuine within the world.

One NPC in particular has a story arc that completely recontextualizes their early interactions once you realize what's happening. That's excellent writing.

The ending (both of them—normal and true ending) provides closure without everything feeling convenient. The true ending requires hunting secrets and defeating optional bosses, which makes sense narratively. The game rewards curiosity with story payoff. That's how you do post-game content.

Is this going to blow your mind if you're coming from games with complex, novel-length narratives? No. But for a Metroidvania, it's remarkably thoughtful. The story serves the game, not the other way around.

Technical Performance: A Rare Case of Polish

Here's something that shouldn't be surprising but somehow is: MIO is technically excellent. There are no game-breaking bugs. Performance is stable. Load times are quick. Controls are responsive.

On PS5, the game runs at locked 60fps with 1440p resolution. I played handheld on Switch for about three hours and the experience was smooth at 30fps. Frame drops don't occur. Input latency is imperceptible. For a midbudget indie game, this level of technical execution is genuinely rare.

The HUD is minimal and unobtrusive. It doesn't take up mental space. Map design is open enough that you rarely feel lost without constant marker references. When you need to check your map, it's there; otherwise, it stays out of the way.

Menus are snappy. Saving is automatic at benches and checkpoints, preventing progress loss. The game has autosave functionality as well. Douze Dixièmes clearly understood what frustrated players with previous Metroidvanias and designed around those pain points.

One technical note: the game's color scheme is deliberate but can be challenging for color-blind players. There's an accessibility option for colorblind modes, though I wasn't able to test comprehensively how well it addresses all scenarios. It's appreciated that the developers included it.

MIO emphasizes atmosphere and exploration over combat difficulty, while Hollow Knight: Silksong focuses more on challenging combat. Estimated data.

Where MIO Stumbles

This is important: MIO is excellent but not flawless. Knowing the weaknesses helps you decide if it's worth your time.

Combat Fatigue: By hour 8, you've fought roughly the same five enemy types dozens of times. The basic corrupted robots with minor variants get old. Bosses are memorable, but standard encounters lack the visual variety or attack pattern complexity that would keep them engaging. The game knows this and spaces combat encounters thoughtfully, but it's still present.

Boss Runbacks: Here's the frustration point. Several boss encounters require 3-5 minute approach sequences before the actual fight begins. Dying means redoing those corridors. It's artificial difficulty that doesn't match the game's design philosophy elsewhere. Checkpoints mid-approach would fix this instantly. As it stands, it's padding that feels unmotivated.

Vertical Travel Time: The lifts between major areas are slow. Aesthetically, it works—you're ascending a dying spaceship and the slow mechanical movement emphasizes isolation. But practically, it creates some tedious load-bearing-wall sections that feel designed to make you stop and appreciate the music rather than move the plot forward. Fast-travel unlocks would help here.

Early-Game Pacing: The first 3-4 hours are deliberately gentle. Some players coming from Hollow Knight's wall-of-pain reputation might find it too comfortable. The difficulty ramps eventually, but if you need immediate challenge, MIO doesn't deliver it early on.

Plot Complexity: The story works well as a contemplative meditation on endings, but it won't challenge players seeking intricate narratives. The themes are solid but not profound. If you're looking for Blasphemous-level narrative depth, adjust expectations.

These aren't dealbreakers. They're tradeoffs in design philosophy. MIO prioritizes exploration and deliberate pacing over relentless challenge or narrative complexity. That's a legitimate choice.

Comparisons: How MIO Stacks Against Genre Peers

If you're deciding between MIO and other current-gen Metroidvanias, here's the honest breakdown:

vs. Hollow Knight: Silksong: Silksong is harder, more complex, demands mastery. MIO is more welcoming, focuses on exploration and atmosphere. Both are excellent; they serve different audiences. Silksong if you want to prove something; MIO if you want to experience something.

vs. Blasphemous 2: Blasphemous leans heavy on gothic horror and brutality. MIO is contemplative sci-fi. Blasphemous has more varied combat; MIO has better level design. Both are worth playing, but they're tonally opposite.

vs. Ori and the Will of the Wisps: Ori is more action-focused with emphasis on speed and combat. MIO emphasizes deliberate exploration. Ori's presentation is technically more impressive; MIO's is more artistically cohesive. If you loved Ori, you'll appreciate MIO's different approach.

vs. Salt and Sanctuary: This is MIO's closest spiritual cousin—2D action RPG with Metroidvania elements. S&S leans darker and more souls-like. MIO is more forgiving and less complex mechanically. Both have solid atmosphere; MIO wins on exploration clarity.

The real question: What kind of experience do you want? MIO isn't competing for "hardest" or "biggest." It's competing for "most thoughtful, most respectful of the player's time, most visually cohesive."

On that metric, it wins.

Post-Game Content: There's Meat Here

So you've beaten the main story in 12-15 hours. What's next?

There are superbosses—optional encounters significantly harder than the final boss. There are hidden areas gated behind the hardest platforming challenges. There's a true ending that requires hunting specific secrets. There's new game+ mode that increases enemy difficulty while letting you keep abilities, which fundamentally changes encounter balance.

Completionists are looking at 25+ hours minimum to unlock everything. That's substantial value for a

The superboss gauntlet is legitimately challenging and worth undertaking. One in particular—the Vault Guardian—is a five-minute perfect execution test. Another tests knowledge of every platforming mechanic you've learned. These aren't cheap difficulty; they're skill checks.

The hidden areas follow the game's design philosophy: if you're observant and curious, you'll find them. No guides needed if you're willing to explore thoroughly.

Who Should Play This (And Who Shouldn't)

You should play MIO if:

• You love Metroidvanias and respect the genre's fundamentals
• You appreciate thoughtful atmosphere and environmental storytelling
• You want a beautiful, well-crafted 15-hour experience without endless grinding or excessive difficulty spikes
• You enjoy exploring and discovering secrets at your own pace
• You're tired of games that waste your time with busywork and padding
• You liked games like Ori, Blasphemous, or Salt and Sanctuary

Consider passing if:

• You're seeking the hardest possible Metroidvania experience (that's Silksong)
• You need constant combat engagement and variety
• You prefer fast-paced action over deliberate exploration
• You want a game with 50+ hours of content
• You're not a fan of sci-fi settings
• You need frequent difficulty spikes and challenge

MIO is specific in its vision. It's not trying to be everything to everyone. It's trying to be one thing exceptionally well: a respectful, beautiful, thoughtfully-designed exploration game that trusts the player.

The Verdict: A Quiet Masterpiece

MIO: Memories in Orbit doesn't announce itself. There's no viral marketing campaign. No celebrity voice acting. No crowdfunding story. It just... exists. A competent, charming, beautiful game from a small French studio that gets the fundamentals right.

In a genre crowded with games trying to be "the next Hollow Knight," MIO has the confidence to just be itself. It's not trying to outpain Silksong or out-weird Blasphemous. It's exploring what a Metroidvania can be when developers prioritize atmosphere, thoughtful design, and respect for the player's time over spectacle.

The combat isn't groundbreaking. The story won't change your life. The platforming challenges won't humble you like Celeste. But take them together—the gorgeous hand-drawn visuals, the masterful level design, the original soundtrack that does emotional work without overwhelming the experience, the story that rewards attention—and you get something genuinely special.

Is it a must-play? For Metroidvania fans, absolutely. For anyone who appreciates craft and thoughtful game design, it's worth the 15 hours. It's the kind of game that respects your intelligence, respects your time, and trusts you to find meaning in exploration and discovery.

After Hollow Knight: Silksong punished me for three months, MIO felt like an exhale. But it's not an easy exhale—it's the exhale of someone who finally found a game worth their attention, worth their time, and worth playing twice.

That's enough. That's more than enough.

FAQ

What is MIO: Memories in Orbit?

MIO: Memories in Orbit is a 2D Metroidvania developed by Douze Dixièmes, released January 20, 2026. You play as Mio, a robot crew member aboard a dying AI-controlled spaceship called The Vessel, tasked with collecting five Mac Guffins to prevent the ship's systems from shutting down completely. It combines exploration-focused level design with thoughtful platforming challenges, environmental storytelling, and a contemplative sci-fi atmosphere across roughly 12-15 hours of main content.

How does MIO's Metroidvania design work?

MIO uses the classic Metroidvania formula: new abilities unlock areas previously inaccessible. You acquire traversal tools (grappling, wall-jumping, gliding) and combat abilities that open new paths. The game trusts players to understand this language—if you see a grapple point, you know you'll use it later; if a door has a distinctive symbol, you'll find a weapon with that symbol. The level design is interconnected and rewards exploration without forcing it through mandatory side quests or markers.

What makes MIO different from other Metroidvanias?

MIO prioritizes atmosphere, thoughtful pacing, and respect for player time over relentless difficulty. Unlike Hollow Knight: Silksong (which emphasizes challenge), MIO focuses on exploration and discovery. The game doesn't waste time with padding—encounters are sparse and purposeful, level transitions flow naturally, and the story unfolds through environmental storytelling rather than exposition dumps. Visually, the hand-drawn 2D art style with a cohesive color palette for each biome creates an immediately identifiable aesthetic that most indie Metroidvanias lack.

Is MIO's combat difficult?

Combat isn't MIO's focus. Basic enemies use straightforward attack patterns and feel like obstacles to navigate rather than engaging encounters. Boss fights are the exception—they demand pattern memorization and often incorporate platforming challenges into the battle arena. Normal mode is accessible for players new to Metroidvanias; hard mode (unlocked post-game) significantly increases difficulty for experienced players. The frustration point isn't combat itself but boss runbacks—several encounters require 3-5 minute approach sequences before the actual fight, and dying forces you to replay them entirely.

How long is MIO and what's the post-game content?

Main story completion takes 12-15 hours depending on exploration pace. Collecting all secrets, defeating optional superbosses, and unlocking the true ending extends playtime to 20-25+ hours. Post-game includes harder difficulty modes, additional boss gauntlet challenges, and new game+ that increases enemy difficulty while letting you retain learned abilities. Superbosses provide genuine challenge—not artificial difficulty, but skill checks that demand near-perfect execution.

How does MIO's story work?

The narrative is straightforward—prevent a spaceship's systems from shutting down by collecting five power sources. However, Douze Dixièmes tells the story through environmental observation, NPC dialogue, and readable terminals rather than exposition cutscenes. The deeper context (why the ship is dying, what happened to humanity) unfolds gradually, and the true ending recontextualizes everything you've experienced. Thematically, the game asks uncomfortable questions about mercy versus coercion, making it more philosophically interesting than typical Metroidvania plots.

How does MIO perform technically?

MIO is exceptionally polished for an indie release. PS5 version runs at locked 60fps with 1440p resolution; Switch version runs stably at 30fps. No game-breaking bugs were encountered. Load times are quick, controls are responsive, and autosave prevents progress loss. The UI is minimal and non-intrusive. Accessibility options include colorblind modes. Overall, the technical execution is a standout for a midbudget indie game.

Should I play MIO if I loved Hollow Knight: Silksong?

Maybe. Silksong is significantly harder and prioritizes challenge; MIO emphasizes exploration and atmosphere. If you want another wall-of-pain experience, MIO won't deliver. If you want something thoughtful, visually beautiful, and mechanically sound but less punishing, MIO is worth playing. Both are excellent Metroidvanias serving different audiences—think of MIO as a contemplative experience versus Silksong's prove-yourself gauntlet.

Is MIO worth $30?

Yes, for Metroidvania fans and players who appreciate craft. Fifteen hours of well-designed content with zero unnecessary padding, plus 10+ hours of post-game material for completionists, offers solid value. The visual and audio presentation exceeds what you'd typically expect at this price point. If you're genre-agnostic or exclusively seeking extreme difficulty, manage expectations—MIO isn't the hardest game in its class, but it's among the most thoughtfully designed.

Conclusion: A Game That Knows What It Is

There's something refreshing about a game that doesn't apologize for what it isn't. MIO: Memories in Orbit never pretends to be the next Hollow Knight or the hardest Metroidvania ever made. It's content being a respectful, beautiful, smartly-designed exploration game that trusts its players.

In an industry obsessed with scale and spectacle, that confidence feels radical.

Is it perfect? No. The combat gets repetitive. The boss runbacks are tedious. Those slow vertical lifts between areas test patience. But these are minor quibbles with what is fundamentally a solid game made with genuine care by people who understand the genre deeply.

The real takeaway: MIO respects your time. It doesn't pad content with grinding or busywork. Abilities unlock naturally. Secrets reward curiosity without punishment. The story trusts you to find meaning. The atmosphere builds organically from the visuals, the sound design, and the level design—not from exposition cutscenes.

For fans of Metroidvanias, this is essential. For players burned out on 100-hour open-world games, this is therapeutic. For anyone who appreciates craft and thoughtful design, this is worth 15 hours of your life.

Douze Dixièmes has created something special here. Not groundbreaking, not revolutionary, but special in the way that only thoughtful, patient game design can achieve. MIO: Memories in Orbit is a quiet masterpiece—and for the right player, it might just be the best game you play all year.

Key Takeaways

• MIO executes classic Metroidvania design with precision—smart ability gating, intuitive level layouts, and minimal hand-holding that respects genre veterans
• The game's real strength is atmosphere: hand-drawn visuals with cohesive biome color palettes, an original soundtrack ranging from ethereal to pulse-pounding, and environmental storytelling that rewards curiosity
• Combat is deliberately sparse and isn't the focus, but boss encounters shine through arena design and integrated platforming challenges; basic enemy variety gets repetitive by midgame
• Post-game content is substantial with optional superbosses, harder difficulty modes, and a true ending requiring secret hunting—easily 25+ hours for completionists
• This is a game that knows exactly what it wants to be: not the hardest Metroidvania, not the most complex story, but a thoughtful, respectful exploration experience that trusts players

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