Homo Machina

Waking up has never looked this good.

In Homo Machina, your eyelids don’t just flutter open, they’re manually hoisted by a sleepy factory crew, jolted into action by a secretary named Josiane and her perpetually overwhelmed boss. Inspired by the anatomical dreamscapes of 1920s scientist Fritz Kahn, this brief but brilliant puzzle game turns the human body into a vintage industrial complex, piston-pumping lungs, valve-clicking sinuses, and all.

As the player, you’re less a puppet master and more an unseen middle manager, nudging your microscopic workforce from one internal department to the next. Toast must be chewed. Eyes must see. A date looms ominously on the horizon. And every step, whether tuning a cochlea like a radio dial or balancing blood pressure like a boiler gauge, feels like flipping through a beautifully animated anatomy textbook with a sense of humor.

There’s almost no challenge here, and that’s by design. Homo Machina isn’t about stumping you, it’s about letting you play within a system so lovingly constructed it practically hums. The puzzles are tactile and intuitive, giving you just enough leeway to feel clever without grinding the gears.

Clocking in at about 90 minutes, Homo Machina is short, sweet, and absolutely saturated with style. Every frame feels hand-drawn, every sound effect tailored to its anatomical counterpart. If the human body were run by tiny, bickering engineers in wool vests, this would be the documentary.

It’s rare that educational games actually make you feel something. Homo Machina does. It’s not just a game about how the body works, it’s about how beautifully strange that work really is.