Mia's Reading Adventure was a game I played when I was around five years old and found it utterly terrifying. Here's the full story.
When I was around five years old, my mother started buying me educational video games to get me ready for school. One of those games was Mia’s Reading Adventure: The Search for Grandma’s Remedy. It sounded wholesome. It looked innocent. I was ready to embark on a delightful journey of literacy.
A laid-back spider character welcomed me into the game with a catchy song about Mia, the titular mouse protagonist:
“Let me tell you a story about a little mouse, she lives right here in this house. She loves to sing, she loves to play, she doesn’t care if it’s sunny or grey...”
A cute little tune. A feel-good atmosphere. My guard was down. I was ready to improve my reading ability.
After a chat with a friendly bird character, I learned that Mia’s Grandma was sick and needed medicine.
Admittedly, the jarring CGI, strange animations, and unsettling sound effects were already putting me on edge, but the game’s gentle, wholesome tone reassured me. Mia was carefree, skipping through her journey, and I was right there with her.
Even the game’s attempt at horror—a comically failed jump scare by the spider—was met with Mia’s playful dismissal: “Not very scary, is he?”
As Mia entered the passageway to her Grandma’s home, an ominous figure slithered onto the screen. A rat. Not just any rat. A massive, trench coat-wearing, bowler-hat-sporting, criminal-minded rat.
But whatever. I had a job to do.
Grandma, weak and frail in bed, handed over her last sparklies (the currency used in the game) and urged me to buy her medicine. Simple enough, I thought. A quick trip to the shop and she’ll be right as rain.
Except—
He was there. The rat.
Listening. Waiting.
And as I left through the dark passageway, that rat chuckled to himself, scurried in, and proceeded to beat Mia up and steal everything.
“Who would do something like that?” Mia whimpered.
Who indeed? The concept of danger in the outside world was more real than ever to me. I felt distinctly fearful regarding what had just happened, frozen in my seat.
Imagine you’re five years old, full of naive optimism, just getting your bearings in a literacy game your loving mum bought you, when—BAM!—a giant rat looms over you and mugs you.
No warning. Just pure, unfiltered violence.
This wasn’t like Mario, where you could jump on your enemies. No, no—Romaine (I believe this was his name) the Rat simply beat you up, took your money, and left. I was just trying to get better at reading, and instead I was uncovering the hard realities of crime.
The rest of the game? Completely ruined. I was on edge the entire time. Every alley, every dimly lit passage—potential danger. This was no longer Mia’s Reading Adventure. This was Mia’s Urban Survival.
Despite the trauma, I kind of respect Mia’s Reading Adventure as a game. It was supposed to teach kids phonics. Instead, it showcased the unforgiving realities of crime.
Would I recommend it to children today? Absolutely not. Unless you want them to develop trust issues and a deep-rooted fear of rats.
And you know what? The game did teach me something.
Not how to read. No, I remained functionally illiterate for a little while longer.
But what it did teach me was the art of self-preservation.
Because in life, you will be exposed to a rat in one form or another, and sometimes you need to know how to overcome them.
