I first discovered Yume Nikki when I was eleven years-old and at first, I didn’t think too much of it.
Mainly because I didn’t actually play it. I only experienced it through playthroughs by popular let’s players in 2012. At the time, I didn’t have the money to get into playing video games (despite the fact that Yume Nikki is free, but little me didn’t know that), so watching walkthroughs was my cheat into enjoying them without paying a single cent. As a consequence of being a child, the idea of a game involving no story, dialogue, or interactive elements didn’t have a lot of appeal for me. The only thing that kept me engaged was seeing the funny Youtube men gawk and react to the strange imagery. As much as I wish I played the game for myself back then, I am grateful for those channels for developing my appreciation for RPG Maker horror. The subgenre was definitely huge in the early 2010s and being exposed to it at such a young age likely played a huge part in my love for it now. Ib, Mad Father, Corpse Party, The Crooked Man and Ao Oni are all responsible in one way or another for developing my taste in horror games.
In 2022, I played Omori for the first time. And just like that, my love for RPG Maker horror was instantly reignited.
That game, which has now become my all-time favorite, encouraged me to go back and revisit all the main RPG Maker staples. I replayed Ib and scoured through a ton of video essays on the subject, but most importantly, it made me go back and play Yume Nikki. One night, I decided to download it and try to wander around as far as I could without the use of a walkthrough (which I tend to be very guilty of doing with other games…..cause I’m dumb). I started at 1 AM, in the dead of night, and spent two whole hours roaming around aimlessly.
After that night, it became one of my all-time favorite pieces of art.
That might be confusing to some, considering the vague nature of the game and how there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot to it on the surface. As previously mentioned, there’s a lack of narrative or any proper characters. Madotsuki, the protagonist, is less of a fully-defined character and more of a vessel for the player to insert themselves into. Even the game’s creator, Kikiyama, is just as mysterious. No one is aware of their appearance, gender, real name or intentions behind making it. There is absolutely no official insight on what this game is trying to say or if there even is a deeper meaning beyond looking at cool trippy imagery.
However, if you’ve been paying attention to its loyal, undying fanbase, you’d quickly realize that its indefinite narrative is the driving force behind its staying power.
To this day, there are hundreds, if not thousands, of readings of Yume Nikki’s potential symbolism. This game has been analyzed through every possible lens and thus, has the ability to resonate with just about everyone. This makes sense, as the game is an absolute onslaught of psychedelic spectacle. There’s so much on the screen at all times that there’s bound to be at least one thing you’ll latch onto. People have interpreted the game as a metaphor for sexual abuse, suicidal thoughts, escapism, a dying dream, and gender dysphoria/transgenderism. Its universal resonance is so widespread that there’s an entire community dedicated solely to creating Yume Nikki fangames, each with their own recurring motifs and ideas. Yume 2kki and .flow have managed to both be iconic games in their own right and have well-established fanbases of their own despite being derivative fan projects.
So, all this rambling begs the question: why does Yume Nikki resonate with me? What makes it near and dear to my heart enough for me to believe it’s one of the greatest things to ever happen in the history of forever (or something like that)?
There’s only one image that can sum it all up:
This moment occurs in the wilderness level, if you know where to look. Here, Madotsuki comes across a group of toriningen, NPCs scattered throughout the game that you (interestingly) cannot touch without being thrown into a prison you can’t escape without waking up, gathered together and having a party. They’re all listening to music and having a picnic, while all you can do is watch from behind the plants. You are completely closed off. It’s impossible to join them and all you can do is watch from afar.
I have a huge place in my heart for dream-like, atmosphere-driven stories with minimal dialogue (Eraserhead, Angel’s Egg, Under the Skin, etc.) and I think a big reason why is that I heavily identify with them. I am a person with both an abundance of free time and yet hardly anyone to share it with. That’s what makes me feel safe in saying that I’ve probably spent the majority of my life up in my own head. When you’re stuck living in your head for a sizable chunk of your existence and a solution for it doesn’t seem to be in sight, your relationship with life looks different from most people’s. For me, an average day is hours of pure silence with nothing to do but to swim in my own head. It’s endless ruminating over every choice I’ve made and impulsive feeling I’ve felt. One of Yume Nikki’s greatest assets is its atmosphere, as many will tell you, but I think what makes it especially powerful to me personally is how it perfectly captures the feeling of drifting through the world while isolated and alienated.
Madotsuki is heavily implied to be a hikikomori, a Japanese term referring to someone who barely leaves their home and is disconnected from society. Every time she’s awake, we’re confined to the small living space of her bedroom. You can approach the door and attempt to leave, but she’ll only react with a shaking head of refusal. This could just be a way of telling the player the door’s only there as a part of the background, but me and many others choose to see it as a dismissal of the outside world. Madotsuki is afraid of what lies beyond that door, and prefers the comfort of her strange yet familiar dream world. What’s equally fascinating to me is that the base of the dream world consists of nothing BUT doors. This makes me feel like deep down, Madotsuki does have a yearning to explore the world and connect with others, but is far too burdened under the weight of her emotional traumas.
The fact that there’s no possible way of interacting with any of the NPCs strengthens the lonely feeling of the game. Madotsuki is much like a ghost in her whole world. She can look at and follow the bizarre characters she meets, but you can’t talk to them. Most of them don’t even react to her presence (except for the toriningen, who only see her as someone to be punished). The mall, one of the most haunting levels of the game, makes this especially apparent.
In the mall, Madotsuki is surrounded by mysterious figures. They’re the closest thing resembling humans in this world, and yet they’re faceless and make static, unintelligible noises whenever you try to talk to them. I think it’s already obvious how one could connect this to the inability to relate to others. When you live with a constant lack of meaningful connection, people don’t really feel like…well, people. They become abstract within your memory and only register in your head as just another daily occurrence that comes and goes. The sounds they make also hit me as a great representation of miscommunication. A life of feeling misunderstood and failing to understand others can make words themselves feel like empty noises devoid of meaning. Similarly, one of the most striking things about the game is its usage of eyes. Eye-related imagery is scattered all across the world, such as the eye people in the white desert or the pair of eyes staring at you in the dense woods. There’s even an entire level called “eyeball world”, where various eyes of different shapes and sizes litter the area. Their recurrence brings a lot of the game its uneasy, uncomfortable energy, which effectively communicates what social anxiety feels like. Living with social anxiety can make you feel threatened by even the smallest amount of attention, or like the entire world is surveying and judging you constantly. Whatever trauma Madotsuki has endured in her life has made her feel unappealing, unworthy, and separate from others.
Madotsuki’s disconnect from a few of the only humanoid-looking in the game brings to light another implication. Her dream is filled with creatures of all kinds, which are all surreal, grotesque, and strange. Amongst her own world, she sticks out purely by being the only normal and relatable thing we can latch onto. When one lives with isolation, self-hatred, and little intimacy, it can be hard to see yourself as human. You often see yourself as an intruder amongst people. Something walking around, only masquerading as a person, and failing to justify yourself. This idea, however, comes with a fork in the road. Does the dream world lack humanity as a method of comforting Madotsuki, if she feels like she doesn’t belong with other people? Or is it a representation of how she views others (as threatening, confusing creatures)? Like with everything else about the game, it’s very much up to interpretation. Both resonate with me strongly, as someone who has failed to find connections and has always felt attached to monsters, and strengthen the depiction of complete alienation.
Yume Nikki really couldn’t have returned to my life at a better time. I am currently experiencing the loneliest phase of my life, with no estimate as to when it’ll ever end. Life, as of now, feels like an endless dream more than it does solid reality. I won’t go too much into detail but everyday, I feel more and more like Madotsuki. I am trapped inside my bedroom, looking at my door with yearning but never daring to go out. I dream of leaving this house and giving myself to whatever experiences come my way, but I have a head full of nightmares and demons. I hope one day I can finally pinch myself awake and leave this dream once and for all, so that I can live a life of love and understanding.
I hope Madotsuki can wake up one day too.
(don’t play dream diary it sucks)
