Without a Dawn Review

I resisted. I’m still here.

Trigger Warning: this page contains references to themes of suicidal ideation, self-harm, and other psychological issues which some individuals may find distressing’

There’s something gnawing away at me in the back of my mind when I play a game like this. An agonizing feeling that I am never really able to shake. Whenever a game deals in earnest with mental illness or suicidal ideation, I begin to feel a bit like a bug under a magnifying glass in the hot sun. Or maybe the bugs are just beneath my skin, ready to break out and consume me. I can’t help but squirm in my chair, restless. But I am still here. I persist.

Without a Dawn is, without a doubt, a deeply upsetting title to work through. My own fears and past are dredged up every step of the way. As are painful reminders of loved ones I’ve lost along the way.

Frankly, this is a phenomenal display of artistry.

Publisher: Jesse Makkonen

Developer: Jesse Makkonen

Platform: Played on PC (Steam)

Availability: Released on May 19, 2025 for Windows PC (Steam).

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Without a Dawn is a visual novel in name only. There are minimal choices to make, and no branching paths or objects to interact with. Instead you’re guided through an emotional and evocative exploration of one person’s struggles with anxiety, suicidal ideation, and self-doubt.

The art and music are outstanding, with the visuals made with something akin to ASCII art, but they shift and flow to create these stunning scenes where little changes creep up on you over time. Impactful audio, such as rain pattering, ticking clocks, and other normally mundane sounds create an isolating atmosphere, enhancing the text in a way that makes big moments much more impactful.

This is complimented by the strong writing, which does an excellent job of crafting an intense sense of dread and isolation. There were moments where I began to feel anxious myself — not a feeling I’m accustomed to. Its vivid imagery — visually and linguistically — are reminiscent of poetry, allowing us insight into the emotions and experiences of the subject without flatly describing them. There’s so much tension and buildup in every single scene, it becomes unnerving and unbearable, able to push and pull you in an intended direction emotionally. 

Without a Dawn has a unique and disorienting art style.

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Perhaps thankfully, Without a Dawn is extremely short, taking under an hour to run through. That’s not a negative for me on this one, as I thought it got all of its emotional impact and story-telling across quite well in that brief span. It fits into that really unique space where it really only works as a game, but the why might seem a tad counterintuitive. See, the choices don’t matter much, with many of the options being false. You can choose to advance and select the intended option, or you can try and hold out through the night. In the end, you must give in to continue the story. But I always resisted anyway. To be honest, I think I always will, given the choice. There’s something about it that just feels so personal, so familiar. Having gone through my own struggles and knowing those feelings intimately, I felt compelled to resist. Perhaps that was more for me. I refuse to let myself go there again. I will persist. Alas, there is no way to really do so. I tried — god did I try.  

By forcing you to make these choices and move things along, you become party to the events in a way that’s just not possible in something like a film or novel. It gives you personal connection to the events unfolding, or maybe even forces you to bear a little responsibility for the way things go. I can’t let go of that feeling. The feeling like I could have, or should have done more. But what more could I have done? The game made me continue in that way, right? I suppose I could have turned it off, just closed it and moved on with my life, oblivious to the events portrayed, ignorant to the loss I would contend with. Of course, that’s not really true. For better or worse, I was compelled and unable to divert myself from it.

It fits into that really unique space where it really only works as a game, but the why might seem a tad counterintuitive.

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At the end of the game, I was a bit shaken. Or perhaps it was more disgust? Dread? I am not sure what the overarching emotion was, but I know I felt powerless in a way that’s uncommon after playing a game. So much of the visual novel feels like a car crash in slow motion. You know where it’s going, you see the signs, but you can’t stop it. No matter how much you fight, it feels inevitable. Maybe that’s why when it was over, I felt a bit of relief — a release from the burden of care imposed on me. It’s funny, when I was working through ideas in my head about how to write this review, I kept thinking about ways to incorporate the number 15, a reference to the game. I wanted to try something a little more unique, maybe make it a bit fun. But you know what? I’m a little tired, too.

Verdict

Without a Dawn is a powerful and moving, albeit short, experience. A distilled shot of emotion and anxiety wrapped into a surreal package. It made me feel deeply uncomfortable in all the ways art like this is meant to. In playing it, I had to once again reckon with a part of me long buried, and in having done so I feel a bit stronger.

Image Credits: Jesse Makkonen