Promenade

The “collectathon” is a genre that lived and died—and was eventually resurrected—in the third dimension. The golden age of Banjo-Kazooie and the modern design of Super Mario Odyssey are defined by depth, 360-degree exploration, and the tactile satisfaction of scanning a horizon for hidden baubles. Translating that specific itch to a 2D plane is a fool’s errand for most, yet Holy Cap has managed to do exactly that with Promenade. This is a calculated effort to map the non-linear logic of 90s Nintendo classics onto a beautifully hand-drawn 2D world.

You play as Nemo, a boy whose world is literally falling apart. The Great Elevator, the central hub of this fantastical universe, has seen its golden cogs scattered by a shadowy doppelgänger. It’s a familiar narrative trope, but in Promenade, the story takes a backseat to the mechanical relationship between Nemo and his cephalopod companion, Poulp. The game doesn’t just ask players to run from left to right. It demands that each world be treated as a vertical and horizontal playground, packed with environmental puzzles and challenges that reward curiosity over raw speed. By positioning the game as a non-linear exploration piece, Holy Cap avoids the “level-to-level” fatigue that plagues the genre, instead creating a cohesive, interconnected world designed to reward deconstruction.

• The Poulp Propulsion System: Nemo’s octopus friend is a multi-tool that functions as a grappling hook, a projectile, and a mobile springboard for mid-air movement tech.
• Non-Linear Progression: Eschewing the traditional “World 1-1” structure, players collect cogs across various fantastical biomes in whatever order they choose to repair the Great Elevator.
• Aesthetic Artistry: A vibrant, hand-drawn art style that evokes a premium animated feature, paired with a soundtrack that adapts to the whimsy of the environment.

The strength of Promenade lies in its movement tech. In most 2D platformers, a double jump is a static ability—press a button twice, gain height. In Promenade, verticality is earned. By throwing Poulp at an enemy or a specific object, Nemo can “hop” off them in mid-air. This creates a rhythmic, physics-based loop where players are constantly scanning the environment for “fuel” to keep momentum going. It’s a design that scales with player skill. Early levels read as a gentle stroll, but later challenges demand a level of precision that should satisfy the Super Meat Boy crowd without alienating the casual explorer.

The Collectathon Loop

The game’s primary currency, the golden cogs, are hidden behind a variety of gates. Some require solving environmental puzzles that feel plucked from a Zelda dungeon, while others are locked behind high-speed races or combat trials. This variety is critical. It prevents the “100-item checklist” from feeling like a chore. One moment players are navigating a deep-sea ruin with unique buoyancy physics, and the next they are platforming across snowy peaks where traction becomes the primary antagonist.

However, the game’s commitment to non-linearity does come with a cost: navigation friction. As the world expands, the lack of a detailed, granular in-game map becomes a glaring omission. For a game that encourages 100% completion, expecting players to maintain a mental map of every missed cog across multiple massive worlds is a tall order. It leads to moments of aimless wandering that clash with the otherwise frantic and precise gameplay.

Difficulty and Design

While the aesthetic suggests a cozy, low-stress experience, Promenade hides a jagged edge. The difficulty curve isn’t so much a slope as it is a series of stairs. Players will breeze through a world only to hit a “challenge room” or a boss fight—particularly the final encounter—that demands near-perfect execution of the game’s most complex mechanics. These difficulty spikes can feel jarring, especially when the game’s “onboarding” process is so gentle. Yet, for those who value mastery, these moments provide the only real proof that Poulp has been handled effectively. It is a game that respects the player’s intelligence, even if it occasionally loses its patience.

Visually, Promenade is a strong showing of 2D hand-drawn animation. The colors are saturated and bold, giving the various worlds—from the industrial elevators to the ethereal ruins—a distinct personality. The character animations for Nemo and Poulp are expressive and fluid, which is vital for a game where “feel” is everything. As a 2D game of this scope, it is light on hardware demands, and the design keeps the screen readable even when crowded with particles and enemies—important in a game where failures should always be the player’s own.

On Steam, the game benefits from the precision of a high-polling rate controller and the potential for higher refresh rates, which should make the advanced movement tech feel crisp. However, Promenade seems most at home on the Nintendo Switch. The vibrant art style is suited to the OLED screen, and the “pick up and play” nature of the cog-collecting loop suits handheld play. While some of the technical headroom of PC is lost, the portability is a fair trade for a game that invites players to chip away at its secrets during a commute.

Promenade is a rare breed: an indie title that understands its influences well enough to subvert them. It captures the “just one more secret” magic of the 64-bit era and repackages it into a modern, visually appealing 2D package. While its late-game difficulty and map-less exploration might bruise a few egos, the appeal of its movement system makes it a worthwhile pick for the right audience—anyone who still believes that the best way to tell a story is through the soles of a protagonist’s feet.