For those who have never played it before, Tiny Glade is the newest cozy game to provide us all a way out of the dumpster fire purgatory that is modern life. It’s like taking a few building blocks and slipping into a hypnotic trance. You’re working on an old house, adding a tower and a few windows, when all of a sudden you look up and realize that you’ve spent two hours creating a vast village with ponds and winding paths. Your screenshots folder is overflowing with pictures of your little creation at dawn and dusk, and your back aches from not having a proper chair for your home office. As the name suggests, the main problem with it is that there isn’t nearly enough of it.
It might not even be accurate to claim that I was “playing Tiny Glade.” It appears as though I was tinkering with it. It’s more akin to a set of magical Lego bricks or a far prettier version of the creative mode in Minecraft than it is to be considered a building sim. A blank piece of land and a meager assortment of tools are all you have to build some dwellings, add plants and water, take pictures, and, well, that’s it. Thus, bear in mind that no one lives in Tiny Glade, so if building freely and establishing your objectives aren’t enough to hold your interest, know that the game won’t send legions of orcs charging at your picturesque battlements.
It certainly makes the most of what it has, but it’s still a shallow pond as opposed to a vast ocean of content. Initially, I raised an eyebrow at the few personalization choices available, having constructed countless dysfunctional gaming communities. As I experimented, the limits helped my brain forget about making something specific because the tools take care of things thoughtfully and beautifully. Towers and buildings, plants, ponds, and paths didn’t seem like enough to keep me busy. A door would appear on the front of a structure if a walkway was dragged up to it; placing windows next to one another transformed them from a single pane to a roomy bay window.
Sheep meandered around the wide spaces, ducks came to the pond I had created, and at night the small lamps I had positioned emitted a gentle glow. Observing how small adjustments to the surroundings impact your work while feeling secure in the knowledge that there is no “best” or better way to accomplish it and that nothing you put in place can be removed with a single mouse click is almost meditative. Doctors might recommend it as a component of anger management programs because, really, who can be angry when they’re planting joyful little trees?
For Tiny Glade, that is the sweet spot.
Unfortunately, Tiny Glade seemed to have run out of surprises after a few building sessions. The fun procedurally generated details that I added as I went along started to feel repetitive, and the allure of creating a house that was blue, green, tall, little, or completely submerged in water (just think of the black mold!) vanished. More creative types who like to explore will have very little space to do so because of the same constraints that make everything come together so seamlessly.
Seasons can be added, and the clock can be advanced to see the windows light up, but these little details can only keep the suspense going for so long. Donning every lamp in the house? Apart from the sheep described earlier, who cares when the only people who will ever notice are you and your Steam screenshot folder?
At the very least, there’s a theme for the day that provides the mildest of recommendations, establishing an atmosphere and offering you a tiny hamlet to work with. But the novelty of direction wears off like shoddy masonry after a while because you’re not being judged on your effort. That being said, I returned to it after a few days’ absence, utilizing it as a kind of mental pacifier in between chopping Tyranids in half. That’s where Tiny Glade shines: a little slice of bliss that will soothe your mind and make the outside world seem very far away.
Naturally, everything on the internet must have pictures, or it didn’t happen, and Tiny Glade has risen to the occasion with a very vigilant screenshot mode. Moreover, it features a first-person mode that lets you explore your construction on foot and discover, from the viewpoint of a flying ghostly architect, how incorrectly you calculated the angles on that specific section of the garden wall. I can picture a future in which die-hard enthusiasts exchange screenshots and subtly try to outdo one another in terms of cuteness, but I’ll be keeping my charming inventions to myself, please. Still, it’s a great touch to be able to save and use the small sets I made.
Though it’s a game snack, everything in Tiny Glade—from walled-in gardens to lofty structures with a Rapunzel feel—is a tiny spoonful of happiness. You’ll play through it in a few hours and end the day if you come in prepared to spend dozens of hours playing. Think of it as a package of art supplies that you may pull out whenever inspiration strikes and discover a magical little toolkit to lose yourself in. Despite its small size, little Glade will always be a part of my Steam collection, waiting to utilize its comfort to drive away the evil that threatens to consume my very being.
Verdict
Tiny Glade is one of those little gems that truly does come in small packages. Depending on your definition, the gameplay may be little or nonexistent, but if you think of it as a toy set, the time you spend building communities with duck ponds and flower gardens won’t be wasted. It could use additional features and flexibility to explore further, but I was surprised by how much more you could get out of what it already had—you could quickly and simply use its gratifying procedural construction tools to make a structure that looks natural. Acquire the ability to adapt to the absence of meaningful goals, adversaries, or natural calamities, and you will be rewarded with a near-trancelike flow state and a series of screenshots that will propel you to fame on #cottagecore TikTok.
