Out of Words features one of the cutest videogame characters I've ever seen, but there's a tinge of Kafkaesque darkness to it, too

After yapping about nothing but videogames for three days at Summer Game Fest, I tried my best to talk about anything else, but I just couldn't stop bringing up Out of Words.

It's a sidescrolling tale of young love brought to life by a charming handicraft world and striking stop-motion animation. Being the type of person who's always experimenting with amateur arts and crafts and playing Jim Henson's Labyrinth on repeat must make me the perfect target for this, but the creations here benefit from a team of real artisans.

When it launches, you'll be able to play Out of Words with a friend on the couch or connect with them online, regardless of platform. In my demo, I played with game director Johan Oettinger, while game design lead Jeff Sparks joined us for a chat. It's a strictly co-op adventure, and how its protagonists play will change throughout the journey to reflect the emotions and story connecting the kids, Karla and Kurt.

An "Alice in Wonderland" moment happens almost immediately, dropping the friends into an unfamiliar and troubled world that hinders their ability to speak. It's also when you meet Aleph—the darling manta-like creature that's a manifestation of their friendship and feelings for each other.

The Out of Words duo are cute as a button, but screenshot stills don't do Aleph justice. The bubbly blue baby purrs, coos, and squeaks while twirling about to lighten the mood. It makes perfect sense Aleph is born from good feelings between kind, gentle people. It's gotta be the cutest thing I've ever seen, and it's not just a me thing, either. Characters in later scenes seem drawn to its warmth in a way I suspect will have some special meaning for the big picture.

When the demo skips ahead, it takes Kurt, Karla, and the painfully precious Aleph underneath the City of Nouns, aptly named Nounberg. To navigate the dangers of the catacombs, the friends toss Aleph back and forth, juggling its magic to avoid obstacles.

The player holding Aleph floats along the ceiling, while the other runs along the ground like normal. Oettinger never dropped me, but I did let him go tumbling once or twice before finding our pace as a team. If you can learn to give up a little control and trust your partner, the mechanic turns into a comfortable dance. It's not difficult, but it's quite satisfying.

"There's enough of a challenge to feel like you're overcoming, but we really want to keep it modest," Sparks said. "So that you can play it with your child, a non-gamer partner or parent. Someone who's a little less versed in videogames. We really want to make this as approachable as possible."

Despite Kurt and Karla's predicament, the introduction to the catacombs feels surprisingly calm, almost meditative. Character puppets, blades of grass, and books—everything in the world of Vokabulantis is a real object that was made by hand and filled to the brim with tiny details. Set pieces are individually placed, while scenes are lit with actual studio lighting.

The whole presentation felt like a diorama I could reach out and touch. It's no small feat, but Oettinger tells me he's been fabricating crafts like these for over twenty years as the founder of his animation studio, WiredFly.

Immediately, the studio's approach makes me think of Ghibli, but not in the exclusively cute and cozy way popularly associated with the studio today. Out of Words is dark, beautiful, and comforting. I didn't see anything quite as terrifying as Princess Mononoke's headless Forest Spirit, but I did encounter strange creatures and unease more familiar in films like Spirited Away. Oettinger notes Hayao Miyazaki is among the artists who inspire him, along with Franz Kafka, Michael Ende, and David Bowie.

There's a point when Kurt and Karla's own anxieties and miscommunication manifest, and the darker side of those influences emerge. Whatever happens triggers a new low in their friendship, and the two become an abomination of something called Primordial Clay. It's a divine substance that makes up much of the life in the strange world, and seems to sense how the duo feels.

I was a little taken aback by how monstrous their insecurities take shape. Karla and Kurt are stuck together, the darling little Aleph sandwiched somewhere in the middle. Their movements no longer complement each other; instead, they move together as a messy, bumbling skull-like creature with two arms—one for each player to control.

It destroys pieces of the city as it tears through alleyways and shops, desperate to catch a frightened clay citizen who may have more answers about how to help them find their words again. The rhythm of controlling their embodied ugliness came slower, but I found my groove with time. That's intentional, too. Sparks explained the transition demonstrates "just how dramatic the gameplay changes are between sequences."

Out of Words is a coming-of-age story, but the complexities of communication are a lifelong challenge, even in old age. My first trailer impression misread the game, and I assumed the only communication happening would take place through actions, but I was wrong. There's plenty of direct language involved, and it brings the same artistry from the art style to the names of places and people thanks to poet Morten Søndergaard.

My only disappointment came when the demo ended—I miss Karla, Kurt, and Aleph already. There's so much craftsmanship in the words, in the interactions, and in the placement of trinkets; it's a real showcase of specialist talent. While my demo experience wasn't very long, only some 40 or so minutes, I can't help but walk away feeling like Out of Words could be one of those games that endears me to the medium all over again.