If he gets close enough to you he’ll vanish and take the flashback option from the main menu (this is a brief digest of previous dreams) with him – until your later wanderings cause it to return. The other instance is when a grey man appears at random and then floats slowly towards your starting location (he doesn’t actually pursue you, which is an obvious opportunity for some chase-themed nightmares sorely wasted).
You’re a passive observer in your own private world: the only times the game notices you at all is when it optionally kills you inside a waterfront warehouse (read: your point of view tilts to the ground and you briefly see a grey human standing to the side) – which only results in you appearing elsewhere anyway, completely unharmed and your disinterested anonymous murderer gone forever unless you actively try to seek them out… in the exact same place they were in last time.
You can’t stop a car from plunging into water even if you try to put your invisible self in harm’s way, you can’t curtsey to a toy-like king and queen as they dance around their brightly coloured throne room, you can’t touch a single handle in a corridor lined with doors or show any care towards the sick person who sometimes appears in the apartments. The only way “you”, silent detached camera that you are, can interact with things is to walk into them, and all that does is (mostly) randomly warp you to a different setting where you can repeat the process until your day runs out of time – and when that happens you’re taken back to the main menu so you can do it all over again. LSD’s “dream emulation” doesn’t even attempt to offer anything close to those experiences, reducing dreams to nothing more than a gaggle of eccentric objects drawn in discordant colour schemes. Dreams tease out forgotten desires to draw, dance, or sing… or sit you down for a cup of tea with talkative lions and the thought of that moment will keep you smiling the whole day after. Maybe you’ll hear a clock in a hotel lobby that impossibly sounds just like the one your grandma used to have hanging above the kitchen table or be forced to relive an old fear that wasn’t buried as deeply as you hoped it was, tears falling from your eyes as you wake. In dreams you might stand across the room from a person you’ve never seen in your life who’s never said a word and know in your bones you will follow them to the ends of the earth if they ask you to. The fear welling up in your stomach when running away from an unknown monster down a childhood street you haven’t even thought about for decades is palpable even if that event will never come to pass. Dreams are strange, yes, but they’re always intensely personal even when they make no sense at all: There is if not meaning then at least emotion in seeing your favourite teacher from twenty or more years ago trying to write a letter in an empty amphitheatre and desperately wanting to help them find the right sort of paper for the job.
Limbo emulator screen is too small windows#
You don’t need to believe nocturnal adventures are fragmented glimpses of the great subconscious of the universe or mystical windows into your soul where every object found within has a clearly defined and decipherable meaning to realise there is more to dreaming than having a lot of oddball things dash before your mind’s eye and then waking up to the sound of your alarm clock.