The historian in me is delighted that Pentiment (2022) has sparked something of a trend of games set in centuries-old manuscripts (e.g., Yaza Games’s Inkulinati [2024] and Scriptorium: Master of Manuscripts [2026]). With Lost in Art: A Miniature Realm, this trend has successfully broken out of the European orbit. Self-published by two women based in Turkey, Lost in Art offers players the ability to restore art and cartography from 16th-18th century Anatolia (Asia Minor).
You play as a modern-day art historian who has discovered a travel diary of Matrakçı Nasuh (ca. 1480-1564), described as the “Eastern Da Vinci” in the game’s glossary. Nasuh was an artist, mathematician, philosopher, historian, cartographer, and soldier whose deeds include documenting Süleyman the Magnificent’s campaign in Iraq. The historian is magically transported into the pages of Nasuh’s diary and finds maps and artworks in disrepair. He must solve puzzles to restore them and return to his own time.
The game takes place in digital recreations of miniatures by Nasuh and his contemporaries. Miniatures, I learned, are so named not because of their size but for the lead oxide used to create their characteristic bright red ink. There is no attempt to represent perspective, depth, or shadows. The miniaturist does not aim to recreate reality but to capture the “essence of the subject” vividly and in considerable detail.
Thinking of Lost in Art as the Turkish Pentiment (which, admittedly, is not a comparison encouraged by the developer) had me expecting more of a story focus. Lost in Art is a puzzle game at its core. The historian meets a large and diverse cast of characters, but due to the game’s short duration and lack of incentive to revisit earlier areas or speak to characters more than once, none were especially fleshed out.
Taken on the game’s own terms, however, I found an abundance of variety and novelty in its puzzle design. Supporting the fictional premise, the historian will need to assemble artworks, maps, or buildings; repair patterns on floor or wall tiles; choose figures to illustrate well-known folktales or historical events; and solve riddles. Some puzzle types reappeared multiple times with increasing difficulty, but some were just used once. All of the puzzles were interesting, and some were unlike anything I’d ever encountered before. Clicking on the lightbulb in the corner of the screen provides players with instructions, a feature that supports players who want more direction and those who wish to figure things out through trial and error.
In comparison with other titles that take Persian miniatures as inspiration, such as 30 Birds (2024), Lost in Art offers a much deeper engagement with Anatolian culture. The historian receives a travelogue that contains sections on locations, characters, artworks, and more. A tremendous amount of research went into creating this in-game glossary, especially as its information is not required to solve puzzles. While it is possible to roll credits without opening the travelogue, I suspect that once opened, most players will find something they are eager to learn more about, whether that be an artwork that captivated them or a historical figure or event they encountered in a puzzle. The glossary also provides nuanced information on topics more peripheral to the gameplay, such as the roles of women in the Ottoman Empire. While the travelogue is appreciated, I do wish that more of this historical context could have emerged through conversations and puzzles.
Like Pentiment, Lost in Art’s visual and narrative authenticity is paired with culturally and historically appropriate music. Dergâh Varlıel’s soundtrack features the composer performing traditional maqām (Middle Eastern scales) on the santur, a hammered dulcimer of ancient Iranian origin. Both Lost in Art and House of Hikmah from earlier this year display a decisive move away from Orientalist tropes, an approach I hope to see embraced more widely within the industry. These games show that audiences—at least those seeking out games made by developers outside of North America, Europe, or Japan—are not alienated by unfamiliar scales or timbres; rather, such players are increasingly expecting music and sound to be treated with the same level of care as the narrative and art direction. At the time of writing, the soundtrack doesn’t appear to be available for either purchase or streaming. I would love to support Varlıel’s work on Bandcamp.
Environments could have been more firmly established through ambient sounds, but interactive sound effects did effectively support puzzle-solving. A high ping, possibly from a santur, indicates success, while a dissonant interval suggests that players try something else. The opening cutscene has voice-over narration (unfortunately, only in English at this time), but most dialogue is delivered through text in English, Turkish, or Simplified Chinese.
Lost in Art is a beautiful debut by Archaic Studio. Co-founders Berfin Özge Yakar (art) and Merve Nur Sağlık (programming) deliver a concise but highly polished experience. I spent about 2 hours just focusing on puzzles and an additional hour finding the remaining hidden artworks and perusing the book of travels. In that time, I experienced no bugs or glitches. This game is best experienced on a desktop computer. While it doesn’t require substantial computing power, you will need a keyboard and mouse, and the art shows to best effect up-close on a monitor. I heartily recommend this game to anyone interested in learning about Persian art and history or looking for a short, varied, and approachable puzzle game with a unique setting and stunning historically inspired art. Based on this debut, I will be following Archaic Game Studio with considerable interest.
