Movement first
Run, jump, dodge, air attack: everything reads frame by frame. A level played well looks like choreography. A level played badly never cheats — you missed the timing, and you know it.

Creative Drops Games · In development · 2027
Cannibal Bunnies
Eleven worlds. Ten bosses. A 2.5D platformer cut like a fairy tale — and fairy tales, before we softened them, had teeth.
Every fairy tale had teeth once.
We spent a century filing them down.
This one kept them.
World I — Moonwatch Hollow
The first world contains no enemies. You learn to move, to talk to people, to pick things up. It is the only time in the game you are safe — and that is exactly why it exists.



The doll stays on the cobblestones. Remember it.
2010
In 2010, the iPad was not sold in Canada yet. I drove down to the United States to get some, came back with the boxes in the car, and built a game on it.
It was called Cannibal Bunnies. Apple featured it, and the press followed — Macworld, Gamezebo and 148Apps all reviewed it.
A sequel came after: Cannibal Bunnies 2 — The Lost Village, a touch platformer with forty-five levels across three worlds. It's still on the App Store.
Since then, the studio has spent fifteen years building worlds people physically walk through: immersive environments, elevators that become tunnels, installations fabricated in our own shop. We know how to make a universe stand up.
The idea never let go. So we are taking it back. Much bigger this time.
Benoit Tremblay — President, Creative Drops
The game
A platformer played to the millisecond, an inventory played by thinking, zones that reopen when you come back stronger, and bosses you learn by heart. Each of those four ideas has its classic. None of them lives with the other three.
Run, jump, dodge, air attack: everything reads frame by frame. A level played well looks like choreography. A level played badly never cheats — you missed the timing, and you know it.
What you pick up isn't just a damage number. Objects combine, get given away, get traded, open doors no sword opens. Some passages aren't cleared by reflex — they're cleared by understanding.
Every world keeps a door shut on your first pass. An ability earned in world VII reopens a passage in world III. The map doesn't unroll: it folds back on itself.
No boss falls on the first attempt, and none of them is unfair. Each has phases, a grammar, a moment where it tips its hand. You lose, you read, you go again — and when you win, you know exactly why.
Unreal Engine
Six editor captures, taken as is, with the environment displayed without its colour. This isn't an unfinished set: it's a display mode we keep open all day. Stripped of colour, the environment can't cheat — and all that's left on screen is what the player has to see in a tenth of a second.






The map
The path runs in order, but it never quite closes behind you. Every world keeps a door you can only open by returning, later, with something you didn't have yet.

The player's map, as it appears in the game.
II
The forest that breathes
You leave the village by the bridge. The mushrooms light the path, which is lovely — until you work out that the light is bait. The first boss isn't the hardest; it's the one that teaches you that you can die.
III
The tree that keeps the dead
A graveyard grown into the roots of a tree that is far too old. Here, what you bury doesn't stay buried, and the stone doors want something other than a sword.
IV
The calm that lies
Fields, a windmill, sunlight. The only world in the game that looks like it's doing fine. It's also where you learn what happened to the village — and why nobody came.
V
The show goes on
The tents are up, the wheel turns, the music plays. There has been no one left to watch for a very long time, and it hasn't changed the programme at all.
VI
Everything is edible
The gingerbread, the roofs, the chocolate fountain. It all can be eaten, and that's the problem: in this world, appetite runs both ways.
VII
Scale, inverted
Shelves as tall as towers, books you have to climb. This is where you earn the ability that reopens a door you left shut four worlds ago.
VIII
What the sand swallowed
An arch, a fallen column, and beneath them an entire city. The desert isn't an obstacle: it's a lid.
IX
The mechanical burrow
Gears for tunnels, steam for air. Everything moves on a fixed interval, which makes every jump measurable — and every mistake entirely yours.
X
The last climb
The summit, the wind, and nothing left to pick up. This world gives you nothing new; it only checks that you learned.
XI
He still carries the doll
A hall of lava, chains, a throne. The king is eight times your size and he has kept something very small hanging from his belt. You will recognise it.

World VI
Everything is edible.Including you.
The archive
It starts in 2010 with character sheets, and it never really stopped. Every level exists first as an annotated plan: where the player runs, where they die, how many times. “Chance to die: 4” isn't a notebook joke — it's a difficulty target, and it gets verified in the engine afterwards.
The sheets the rabbit came out of. They're sixteen years old and the muzzle hasn't moved.



Thirty-nine levels designed one at a time, each with its route, its traps, and its difficulty target written in the top right.






Art direction
The same rabbit, sixteen years later, and everything he'll run into on the way.
A silhouette has to be recognisable backlit, at a fifth of screen height, in motion. Everything else is detail.


The blacksmith, the cook, the alchemist, the bridge keeper, the wandering musician. None of them is an extra: each holds an object, a rumour or a passage you'll need three worlds later.




Every boss carries its world on its back: the miner drags his cart, the desert one his sceptre, the frozen one his mace. And the scale keeps climbing — the father is a fifth of the first, a twelfth of the last. Difficulty is visible before it's felt.




Gear
Every world has its own gear, made of what you find there: graveyard iron, clockwork brass, throne ember. You don't unlock a list of items — you leave each world wearing what you just walked through. And every piece changes the silhouette as much as the way you play.
Identity
Eleven worlds of carrots, mushrooms and things he shouldn't have picked up. The body remembers: you don't cross Candyland the way you cross the desert, and it shows in the silhouette long before it shows in the stats.
Face
Eyes, ears, muzzle, markings. The face is set on the first screen, before the first carrot, and it doesn't move again all game. One other thing never changes either: the scowl he starts with.
Wear
The armour gives way piece by piece, the scarf disappears, the marks stay. Nothing repairs itself between worlds — and by the end, the state of the character tells the journey better than any progress bar.
The bar
We are not trying to remake these games. We are trying to deserve being named next to them.
Target release
Targeted platforms. Console versions depend on publishing agreements currently in progress.




Interface and voice in French and English.

World XI
Eight times your size.And he kept the doll.
What's next
The worlds are designed, the engine runs, the levels are on paper. What remains to fund is the year and a half of production between a demo and a finished game.
This is the single most useful thing you can do, and it costs nothing. Wishlist counts are what publishers and public funds look at before committing. Three seconds from you is worth more than a long speech from us.
A crowdfunding campaign will open once the vertical slice and the trailer are ready. Leave your email and you'll hear the day it starts — not before, and not for anything else.
The studio is established in Québec and the project is eligible for multimedia title production programmes. Deck, budget and playable build are presented on request.
He left to find her in 2010. It would be nice if he found her.