Escape From Ever After Review

I started Escape From Ever After expecting a familiar indie homage. What I found instead was a confident riff on Paper Mario that uses its influence as a baseline, not a crutch. Escape From Ever After opens inside a fairy-tale castle already hollowed out by a corporation, and that framing sets the tone for everything that follows. This is a game where storybooks double as job assignments and legendary creatures sit in cubicles, and it commits to that idea without blinking.

The first stretch drops me into the role of Flynt Buckler, a human hero who walks straight into the lair of Tinder the Dragon, only to discover the place has been converted into Ever After Inc. The stone halls are gone, replaced by office rows staffed by fairies, gnomes, unicorns, geese, and familiar storybook figures. The visual joke lands immediately, and it keeps escalating. Via Polygon, the game’s early footage undersells how dense these spaces feel when you are actually moving through them.

A short exchange at the front desk sends Flynt to management, where Mr. Moon offers him a job instead of a fight. When Flynt refuses, the response is swift and dismissive.

“didn't have time for deluded lunatics”

— Marloes Valentina Stella, Polygon

That line ends with Flynt in a dungeon, sharing a cell with Tinder herself. The dragon has been stripped of her size and power by a corporate collar that reduces her to a chibi version of her former self. The setup flips the expected rivalry into a partnership, and the game wastes no time making that alliance central. The plan becomes simple in concept and strange in execution: get hired, climb the corporate ladder, and dismantle Ever After Inc. from the inside.

The transition from escape attempt to job interview happens quickly, and the game treats it as normal. That matter-of-fact delivery sells the satire better than exaggerated jokes would. Once employed as an intern, Flynt’s first assignment sends him into a living storybook based on The Three Little Pigs. Instead of rescuing anyone, the task is to stop locals from interfering with a real estate project. The pigs are developers, the wolf is a peaceful resident, and the village marked for demolition turns into the first real exploration zone.

This is where Escape From Ever After starts trusting the player. Objectives loosen. Houses open. Puzzles appear without explanation. One task simply tells me to find a mouse. There is no marker, no hint trail. I eventually find the mouse stranded on a windmill, annoyed and vocal about it. That discovery feels earned because the game steps back and lets curiosity do the work.

Combat exists alongside that exploration, but it never overwhelms it. Battles borrow directly from Paper Mario’s mix of turn-based planning and timed inputs. Dodging requires precise button presses just before impact. Attacks demand similar timing. Flynt can throw his buckler multiple times if I hit the input window cleanly. Musical abilities from the Big Bad Wolf rely on short button sequences. When these prompts are timed, they reward focus and feel good to execute. When they are not, such as holding a button to extend Tinder’s fire breath, they feel like chores layered onto otherwise solid mechanics.

What helps balance this is choice. Minor enemies can be avoided entirely. I spent long stretches weaving around roaming threats, including a rainbow-spewing unicorn that chased me across the map. Skipping fights slowed my leveling, but it made boss encounters sharper. When the game wants me to engage, it makes sure the encounter demands attention.

The first real test comes in Ever After Inc.’s dungeon against the Three Blind Mice. The fight forces positioning, awareness of enemy weapons, and smart use of party members. Spears punish careless melee attacks. Shields demand fire. Ranged pressure matters. It is the first time Escape From Ever After asks me to read the battlefield instead of reacting to prompts, and it works.

The pacing to reach that point is uneven. It took roughly 45 minutes to hit that dungeon fight and over two hours before Wolfgang joined the party and environmental puzzles became common. I explored thoroughly, but even accounting for that, the opening drags. The payoff arrives, but it asks for patience.

What carried me through that slow start was the writing. The game’s take on late-stage capitalism filtered through fairy tales is not new, but the execution stays sharp. Characters are defined by small details rather than broad jokes. Tinder’s irritation feels earned. The pigs’ smugness fits their role. The wolf’s laid-back demeanor contrasts cleanly with his reputation. Flynt himself is intentionally plain, locked into the role of traditional hero while everyone around him bends the rules.

Beyond the main path, Escape From Ever After packs in side activities that reinforce its setting. I decorated my office. I handled odd jobs that solved problems in literal ways, like fixing a computer by turning it off and on. Conversations are available with nearly every character, and they are short enough to encourage checking in without stalling progress. A jazz-inflected soundtrack runs underneath it all, giving the corporate spaces an unexpected rhythm.

Escape From Ever After succeeds because it commits to its premise mechanically and narratively. It does not rush to impress with systems, and it does not bury its satire under noise. It trusts the player to notice details and to decide how much friction they want from combat. If the game continues building on this foundation, it stands as more than a tribute. It becomes its own space, one where fairy tales and office politics collide without apology. The experience is already substantial, and it makes a strong case for spending more time inside Escape From Ever After on Steam.