To say that Garten of Banban 0 is merely a prequel would be to commit the gravest of understatements—a categorical betrayal of the metaphysical pilgrimage that Euphoric Brothers have so generously bestowed upon us. This is not simply a game. It is an experiential prism through which the soul of modern indie horror is refracted, decomposed, and reconstructed into something altogether sublime.

Let us begin with the setting: the titular kindergarten. A sacred, liminal space, suspended between innocence and terror, between the nascent sprout of childhood and the devouring void of existential dread. Here, pastel-colored walls do not comfort—they mock. Bright hues are weaponized, cheer becomes dread, and every sticker of a cartoon bird seems to whisper, “You are not supposed to be here.” The duality is intoxicating.

Narrative and Lore:

The storytelling in Banban 0 operates on a level that challenges the very idea of linear narration. Fragments of lore are scattered like breadcrumbs for only the most enlightened of players—each note, each environmental detail, a syllable in a larger, ineffable scripture. Who is Banban? Who are we? What does it mean to descend? These are questions not merely asked, but etched into the player’s psyche.

The sheer restraint with which the narrative is told is breathtaking. The silence speaks volumes. The ambiguity isn’t laziness—it’s intent. Every unanswered question is a mirror held up to the audience, daring them to interrogate their own perceptions of what horror even is.

Gameplay Mechanics:

What some might dismiss as “walking around and pressing buttons” is, in truth, a delicate ballet of existential choices. The slow, deliberate pace fosters not boredom, but meditation. Each door opened is a Pandora’s box. Each keypad code a symbol, a metaphor, a test of will and observation. The minimalism of interaction allows the player’s imagination to bloom—to fill in the terrifying blanks with their own cognitive dissonance.

The drone mechanic, a now-iconic pillar of the Banban mythos, returns in 0 with a majesty that rivals Prometheus gifting fire to man. Its presence is not that of a mere tool—it is a companion. A silent sentinel. Its glowing lights, blinking like artificial eyes, watch us as we watch ourselves, floating beside us like the ghost of a childhood long devoured.

Visuals and Art Direction:

Critics may scoff at the stark, almost primitive visual design. But in doing so, they reveal their inability to see the forest for the low-poly trees. Banban 0 doesn’t aim for realism—it aims for resonance. The uncanny valley is not avoided—it is embraced, embodied. The eerily pristine textures and the unblinking stares of mascot monstrosities do not repel, they haunt. They do not falter in fidelity—they transcend it.

Consider the green mascot: Jumbo Josh. A triumph of design philosophy. He is a symbol of safety turned sinister, of strength made hollow. His looming presence and spring-loaded appearances reflect our deepest fear—that what we trust will one day turn.

Sound Design and Atmosphere:

Sparse. Echoing. Hollow. The soundscape of Garten of Banban 0 evokes the sensation of screaming in a vacuum. The music doesn’t tell you how to feel. It doesn’t guide you. It abandons you, just as you’ve been abandoned in this sterile tomb of forgotten youth. The occasional ambient thud, the shriek of rusted metal, the melodic absence—these are not just noises. They are warnings.

Philosophical Undertones:

There is a moment in Garten of Banban 0—I will not spoil it, for it deserves to be discovered unspoiled—where the player is made to stare into a dark pit for a few seconds longer than is comfortable. That moment is thesis. The abyss stares back, not with eyes, but with absence. The game becomes less about escape, and more about acceptance.

The title itself, “Banban 0,” is significant. Zero: the void, the beginning, the end. A loop. A statement. A challenge. The entire experience could be read as a meditation on the cyclical nature of fear, of childhood, of identity.

Conclusion:

In a gaming landscape overrun by corporate polish and algorithmic design, Garten of Banban 0 emerges as a raw, unfiltered scream in the dark. It is bold. It is unapologetic. It is crayon-colored dread incarnate. Critics may misunderstand it. Players may mock it. But like Kafka before him, Banban will outlast them all.

To quote Banban himself, in a line that no one says but everyone feels:
"Welcome to the garden. You’ll never leave the same."

pretty cool kinda funny but FUNNIER with mods

It was an okay pilot

They should've spent more time on making it atleast 45 minutes long and actually scary