Nobody Talk To Me Until I Finish Building My Perfect Mouse House With Picross Puzzles

By Kotaku | Created at 2026-09-24 20:27:53 | Updated at 2026-09-24 21:48:26 1 hour ago

The arrival of fall is to me what the full moon is to werewolves. I transform into a blanket-seeking, pumpkin-flavor-obsessed monster whose only goal is the pursuit of coziness in all things, especially video games. For some strange reason, I associate nonogram puzzles with both fall and comfort. But with the arrival of this fall, rather than fire up Mario’s Super Picross for the umpteenth time, I decided to try a new game—Squeakross: Home Squeak Home, and I am going to die.

In Squeakross, (well-named because I can avoid pissing off John Walker with my insistence that it’s pronounced pie-cross, etymology be damned) you play as a mouse who just bought a new house that is woefully devoid of furniture. Rather than sign your life away to a Value City Furniture credit card, you can complete nonogram puzzles in the shape of whatever piece of furniture you want. The puzzles, even in the beginning of the game, are quite varied, with odd dimensions to match the shapes of the pieces of furniture you’re creating. The game has visual indicators for when a line has been completed or when you’ve made an error and a night mode that will darken the puzzle field, and you can even ask your little mouse avatar for help if you get stuck.

You’re solving not only for beds, tables, and chairs, but for decorations, too, that you can arrange, Animal Crossing-style, in your mouse house. Better yet, you can customize your mouse with accessories as well. The game seemed to understand that I had come to it in a biologically compelled search for autumnal comfort because one of the first pieces of clothing you can unlock is a scarf. LOOK AT HER!

There are a cheese-load of puzzles to complete, over 800 according to the game’s Switch store page. Some of them are intuitive, with the puzzle pattern you block out in bricks of cheese looking like the item you’re going for. At other times, it looks like you’re assembling a totally new hieroglyphic language from scratch. I don’t know how you get a microwave out of this, but sure, I’ll go with it.

For every puzzle you complete, you unlock a harder version of it that, once solved, let you change the color of the corresponding piece of furniture or place multiples of it. I’ve been beelining toward staple pieces like beds and nightstands to build up basic accommodations before I start decorating with pictures and other tchotchkes. My time spent building a social media algorithm that feeds me videos of peoples’ stylish studio apartments is gonna come in handy.

And if this game, which is laser-targeted on keeping me cozy through all of fall and into winter, wasn’t perfect enough, here’s the kicker that had me running to my husband, bawling tears of joy. As you progress through the game, you’ll occasionally get emails celebrating your puzzle milestones or sharing cute rat facts. Once in a while, you’ll also get an email that’s filled with real pictures of rodents. I need one. I don’t even like rodents.