REVIEW / Caravan SandWitch (Switch)

Caravan SandWitch is that cozy road trip you didn’t know your gaming heart needed. It’s like if you were put in a Mad Max movie, but it ditched the chaos and went on a slow, soulful adventure through a post-apocalyptic world. You play as Sauge—who, yes, is as effortlessly cool as their name sounds—rolling through the dusty remains of your home planet in a slightly busted, extremely lovable van, searching for his long-lost sister. There are no guns and no game-over screens. It’s all just vibes, discovery, and a whole lotta heart.

The moment I booted it up, I was hit with the game’s art style like a warm sunbeam through a cracked window. The world of Caravan SandWitch is straight-up gorgeous. Think soft brushstrokes, glowing sunsets, and rustic ruins wrapped in flora that seem to have a story of their own. Whether I was zipping across sand-swept hills or poking around the skeletons of old industrial sites, every stop along the way felt like a painting I wanted to live in. And the character designs? Adorably weird in the best way. Everyone I met looked like they belonged in an indie comic, complete with their own quirks that make them lovable.

The narrative unfolds gently, like a letter from someone you haven’t heard from in years. It’s intimate, earnest, and packed with moments that tugged at my soft gamer heart. I wasn’t just chasing after Sauge’s sister; I was talking to strange, beautiful people who’d carved out lives in this crumbled world. There’s no dramatic exposition dump, no over-the-top cutscenes—just genuine connections and slow-burn storytelling. Also, side note: the quest log is styled like a social feed, which is weirdly charming and made keeping track of tasks feel like I was scrolling through a very wholesome version of Instagram.

Now, about the van—my rusty, trusty travel buddy. Driving around Caravan SandWitch is a treat…most of the time. It’s got that quirky indie-game physics feel, which is cute until you’re trying to do a tight turn and accidentally barrel-roll off a cliff (yes, that happened, and no, I don’t want to talk about it). As you progress, you get some funky little upgrades, like a scanner and a grappling hook that opens up new exploration routes. However, the lack of fast travel did test my patience. Sometimes I just wanted to skip the scenic route and get back to the plot, but the game was like, “No no, darling, enjoy the journey.” 

What I really appreciated was the game’s bold choice to go full pacifist. There’s no combat here, and honestly, it was a breath of fresh, post-industrial air. Without the pressure of enemies or dying, I could just…exist, explore, and soak in the mood. It was therapeutic in a way that few games dare to be. It let the emotional beats breathe, and gave me time to connect with the world at my own pace. Not every game needs to raise your blood pressure, and Caravan SandWitch knows that.

That said, I’d be lying if I said it was all smooth sailing. I ran into a few technical oopsies: frame rate drops and awkward animations. There also seem to be one too many side quests that felt like glorified errands (e.g., go talk to X, then back to Y, rinse, repeat). None of it broke the game, but it did make me sigh and breathe in a little deeper. A little polish and variety in the quest design would’ve gone a long way to keep the momentum flowing.

But despite those rough patches, I found myself lingering in Caravan SandWitch longer than I expected. There are nooks and crannies begging to be explored, tiny environmental details that whisper stories if you’re paying attention, and a hauntingly hopeful atmosphere that sticks with you. Even after the credits rolled, I found myself hopping back into my van just to revisit places I’d missed and check in on the characters I’d grown weirdly attached to.

Bottom line? Caravan SandWitch is a soulful road trip through a world that feels forgotten and beautiful at the same time. It’s not trying to be a blockbuster—it’s here to tell you a story, hold your hand, and maybe make you feel a little something in that dusty gamer heart of yours. Is the game imperfect? Sure. Is it worth the ride? Absolutely.

This review is based on a retail copy of the game provided by the publisher.