We Were Here Together: the game where you describe what you can't name

A co-op puzzler that refuses to explain its own rules — and that refusal is what separates the players who find the magic from the ones who quit within the first few hours.

Two radios, no manual

You and another player wake up at a camp in Antarctica after a distress call comes over the radio, and the first thing the game does is split the two of you up. From then on, each of you sees only half of the scene and talks to the other over a handheld radio. That's the whole game: describing, to someone who can't see your screen, a symbol you can't even name yourself, and hoping you both land on the same conclusion.

We Were Here Together is the third chapter in a series of co-op escape rooms from Total Mayhem Games. It takes the pair of explorers from the frozen valleys up to the haunted Castle Rock, prowled by a figure the game itself calls the Jester. There is no single-player mode. The game demands two players, each with a microphone and an internet connection. Without the second voice on the radio, it won't even start.

The series never stopped: a Tomorrow is already on the way

Released in October 2019, the game could have become a museum piece — but the studio never let go of it. As late as February 2026, Total Mayhem Games was still shipping fixes: a tweak to show which microphone is active and a patch for a broken achievement.

That same month, it announced We Were Here Tomorrow, a new chapter in which the pair wakes up inside a strange facility guided by a calm voice. In April, it surprise-dropped a playable demo of it, available for one week only. It's the portrait of a studio patching a seven-year-old game with one hand and unveiling its successor with the other. For anyone starting now, consider it fair warning: what begins here already has a sequel on the books.

When the communication finally clicks

The praise that comes up most often isn't about the graphics or the story — it's about a single moment. The one where the two of you stop tripping over each other, the communication clicks, and a puzzle that looked impossible cracks open because you've finally spoken the same language.

One player who put in nine hours describes exactly that: early on the puzzles are baffling, but once the conversation finds its rhythm it turns into fun. Another, also at nine hours, liked precisely that the game is harder than the two before it, because it forces each player to work out what to do on their own — for them, that's what a good puzzle game is supposed to do. Couples show up a lot in this crowd: a French player, seven hours in alongside his girlfriend, sums up the appeal as a back-and-forth of instructions tripping over each other — you tell them to turn left, they turn the wrong way, and the argument starts over again — and it's that mess that made him recommend it.

One note on sourcing: the game is being given away on Epic, but these comments and numbers come from its Steam page, where 82% of its more than 17,000 reviews are positive.

The problem isn't the difficulty, it's not knowing the goal

The sharpest criticism doesn't come from the people who hated the game — it comes from the ones who nearly loved it. Those who walked away complain less about the difficulty and more about the feeling of not even knowing what the puzzle's goal is. A player with six hours in says that just figuring out what each puzzle is asking of you is an achievement in itself, and that they gave up on the last one, worn out. The recurring gripe is trial and error: instead of clues, you click on everything until something works, without really understanding why. One pair quit at around the three-hour mark, stuck on an elevator puzzle they couldn't crack.

And the same Jester the opening promises as a threat is called hollow by a series veteran with five hours in: to him, the horror atmosphere of the earlier chapters is gone and the villain has become set dressing. Then there are the stumbles that have nothing to do with skill. A colorblind player was locked out of half the puzzles, which are solved by color. Another came back to the game to find the menu buttons blank, with no text. And some, on a shaky connection, couldn't go thirty minutes without the game dropping.

On your own, don't even bother

Before you decide, the essentials: this is not a game for one person, nor for playing with a stranger who keeps their mic muted. It needs two people, each with a microphone, a stable connection, and the patience to describe, repeat, and describe again. Outside a sale it runs about $12.99, and right now it's being given away on Epic.

Anyone after a puzzle game that holds your hand — with a clear objective and visual hints — will hit a wall early, around that elevator puzzle in the first few hours, and close it in frustration. Anyone who's colorblind needs to know upfront that some of the puzzles are solved by color and may be off-limits. But anyone who has, on the other end of the radio, someone willing to get it wrong together and try again will reach that moment when two minds finally think alike — and it's that moment, not the story or the setting, that tips the game in its favor. On your own, don't even bother: without the second voice on the radio, Castle Rock won't unlock.