All right, first off: press “F” to enter windowed mode if you play this game. Took me a little digging to figure that out, but the game defaults to fullscreen — and on my laptop, the wrong resolution, with major portions of the window appearing above and below my screen.
So. You are a rectangle-man.
You need to talk to the Triangle Princess in the Triangle Palace. Problem: you are a lowly rectangle, and scum like you won’t be allowed anywhere near her. So you’re gonna have to get some shape reassignment surgery, courtesy of your local mad scientist.
Graphically, the game is charming. It’s black and white, and feels like an old-timey adventure game.
And there’s a world to explore!
This is less a “game” and more an elaborate joke. Which I largely don’t mind, because it’s a pretty funny joke. I’m honestly impressed at the sense of humor demonstrated by the snarky narrator as your boy Rector the Rectangle does adventure game shit, because I’m pretty sure the game’s developer speaks French as their primary language. Getting laughs in a second language? Well done.
I’m less enamored of the actual gameplay. As you wander through the world, you need to rub yourself up against and interact with anything and everything you can, because you never know when you’re going to stumble across the items that will be the keys to unlock the game’s various puzzles. Make sure you remember that shit, and make sure it’s selected when you interact with the whatsit that wants it.
Rub yourself against the world, rub things against the world, rub things against each other. That’s the game.
Still, it wasn’t awful. I would have appreciated a few more hints about where to find the next whatever I needed, but it gave me a few laughs. It’s a playful, silly little trifle, and not the worst way to spend half an hour. If you remember playing games like this, probably worth a look.
Need another game. Hit me!
Page 56, Game 25: Catlandia: Crisis at Fort Pawprint by catlandia
“Be A Cat”
So, knock shit down, nap in sunlight, and lick myself? I’m in.
I think they call this a “visual novel?” It’s not really a game; there are only a handful of decision points, and they honestly seem pretty inconsequential. Stills of two people appear on-screen, gesturing a bit and changing facial expressions as their dialog prints out below them. Behind them is a static setting — pretty obviously a canned resource of some variety, given that the “bail bondsman’s office” is less “Max Cherry” and more “Tastefully decorated living room.”
This particular story follows a waitress whose scumbag boyfriend is in jail, yet again. She’d dump him, but she’s scared to, because criminal n’at. But, the bail bondsman has a magic knife that makes people forget about other people.
Would you like your jailbird boyfriend to forget about you?
Yes. Of course. That’s the plot.
The “game” is just click-n-read, click-n-read, click-n-read. Not my bag, really, but I don’t want to get hung up on that. If this is honestly mostly just a piece of fiction, I can at least do it the courtesy of evaluating it on those terms.
This does not work for me as a piece of fiction. In a previous life I had aspirations as a fiction writer, so I’ve read my share of stories made with more passion and ambition than actual skill. This gave me flashbacks to the days of telling people “Sorry, I don’t think this works” and trying to find constructive explanations for why and how they could possibly make the next story better.
“That Which Binds Us” suffers from two common rookie mistakes: bad pacing, and underwhelming characters. The story is clearly a romance between the waitress and the magic bail bondsman, but the story is hopelessly mired in the minutiae of their conversations. The writer clearly finds these characters and their interactions fascinating, but has neglected to give the reader any particular reason to care.
There are, of course, hints of a larger story, that our adorable magic bailboy is in way over his head with some sort of organized crime element. In theory, that’s the sort of thing that could generate tension, but in execution, it just put a spotlight on how little was actually happening.
After a good fifteen minutes or so, I gave up. The grinding pace had worn me down so thoroughly that even if the story did start to get good, I didn’t know if I’d be able to acknowledge it. And I wasn’t seeing indications that it was going to get good.
I wasn’t skeeved or pissed-off, I was just kinda bored. Can’t really recommend this one. But I certainly wish the author well, and if someone gave one of their later works a glowing recommendation, I’d be glad to give it a look.
Let’s see what’s on deck:
Page 20, Game 10: I want to be a Triangle by LeCroissantCyclope
“The little adventure of a Rectangle in Geoshape Prime.”
I have been known, on occasion, to exhibit some self-destructive and addictive behavior when presented with something fun. So when I say this is the first game that’s presented a genuine Problem, that’s definitely an endorsement.
The world has been overrun by bugmonsters. You’re fleeing, like you do. You have a car, and you’ll likely have a companion soon. You’re heading west — gotta go somewhere. Given that the road seems to be getting more bizarre and dangerous the further west you go, I’m not convinced this is solid plan.
Along the way, you may rescue other stranded people and invite them along your journey into the heart of darkness. Two fundamental types of people will join you: doggos, and people who have some skills but are unlikely to be as good as doggos.
You’re given some choice over the next stop in your itinerary, but moving forward always costs precious, precious fuel, so prepare to enter a desperate-for-guzzoline mindset worthy of a Mad Max movie. (You can escape a given level on foot, but you’re gonna need to find a replacement ride before you can make any progress in the game. Better hope it has enough room for everybody you’ve gathered.) You’ll also find weapons and equipment and upgrades for your car and maybe even a BETTER car, but your gear only matters so much. The bugs aren’t terribly dangerous — at least, not at first — but slugging it out is a losing proposition. Kill one, and its death scream will summon one more — at a minimum. And even if you feel like you’ve found a position you can defend all day, eventually, a massive rumbling is going to inform you that it is TIME TO GO NOW. I’m not sure what happens if you ignore that rumbling, but I’m assuming it’s very, very bad.
For any given level, you need to harvest what you can, and then get the fuck outta there.
Overland is a roguelike, with all the good and bad that entails. Everything is randomized every playthrough. This makes every game a new experience — but it also means there’s no guarantee it will be remotely fair. In the few (nearly solid) days I’ve been playing this game, I’ve definitely encountered what felt like no-win situations.
In a lot of ways, that’s just part of the deal; if you’re out of resources, shame on you for putting yourself in that position. But it can be a weirdly frustrating, fussy game.
For instance, if there’s something large-but-movable sitting on one of the “Escape” spaces, you can’t just ram it out of the way with your car; the map borders function as an impenetrable wall. You’ll need to send someone out of the car to drag it to the side. Better hope there’s enough room for someone to do that. Most of the cars you can find are VERY tightly constrained as to WHERE they can move; you can’t even try to hop up on the sidewalk even if a horde of neon bugmonsters is about to tear you to pieces. On levels with a four-lane highway, you cannot take your car through any gaps in the jersey barrier, even if the other side is clear(-ish) and the lane you’re in is hopelessly congested with death.
The inventory system in particular is merciless to the point of absurdity. You can carry ONE item — unless you have a backpack, then you can handle TWO. So you’re gonna have to choose between being able to defend yourself and being able to haul back any crucial guzzoline you find hanging out in a dumpster.
This hits its apex with the suffocatingly constrained vehicle restrictions. Each car carries X people and Y items — with NO flexibility. For vans, the numbers are 5 people and 0 items. The fact that you cannot carry junk in a van will likely come as a shock to anyone who’s ever used one.
And why are there no rules for the interaction of dogs and pick-up trucks? If you have two people, a dog, and a two-seat pick-up, you do not have a space problem; what you have is room for at least three more dogs. (When I encountered this exact scenario, I made the only sensible choice: abandon the truck, run for it on foot.)
To mitigate some of its own mercilessness, the game has an “Undo” button (crucial for preventing a misclick from trashing a lengthy run) and — shockingly for a roguelike — a “Restart Level” button. It took me several plays before I even noticed it was there.
It’s honestly kind of a mixed blessing. I wish the game had called more attention to this feature; given that you can only learn what the monsters are capable of by trial and error, I would have appreciated knowing I can be a bit more adventurous and don’t have to sacrifice hours of gameplay if I discover the answer to “What happens when I whack that thing with an axe?” is “LOL.” But on the other hand, my current runthrough is stuck in what feels suspiciously like a no-win scenario. The van is out of gas (dog farts are apparently not harvestable as a source of energy), and the level is so infested with monsters that it might not be possible to get the gas AND leave a path capable of getting the van through. Hell, it’s so infested that I’m not even sure I can get everybody out on foot. The smart move might be to just write off the run and start again, but I don’t wanna leave these guys to their fate.
But that’s the thing: I AM invested. I seriously want these guys to punch through, and get to wherever the hell it is they’re going. I want to know what happens next, and I want it to be something other than “Everybody gets eaten by monsters.”
There are other, lesser frustrations. I sometimes desperately want to zoom in on the map, or have a better idea of what I can interact with and how. The monsters are drawn to sound, in theory, but I’ve found it very difficult to use that to my advantage and manipulate their movement with it. Unless you have sources of light with you, nighttime levels tend to made of pure MOTHERFUCK This, and I will scamper the hell out of there at the first sign of trouble.
But this game does so, so much right. It has a sense of mystery, of threat, of progression. I’d like to have more problem-solving tools at my disposal, but I still feel like I have a very real degree of control over my own fate.
There are elements that I can, and do, quibble with. But on the balance, this is an outstanding gaming experience, and I suspect I’m going to dump a lot more hours into playing it. Whoever assembled the bundle made this the first game for a reason. Highly, highly recommended.
Good thing it’s so much fun to run the random game picker; otherwise, I might have stayed with this game any longer. And the next game shall be:
Page 49, Game 18: That Which Binds Us by Crystal Game Works
“What if you could make someone forget all about you?”
A bit more cerebral than burrowing bugmonsters. A change of pace feels like a good thing.
Pocket Square is the finest hand-held video game console that 1978 never actually produced. It comes with twelve games and, had it been a thing that actually existed, would likely have taken eight D-cell batteries and weighed four pounds.
It would, in short, have been the most awesome thing five-year-old me had ever heard of.
Pocket Square reproduces the feel of ancient home video gaming with eerie precision. The graphics in that menu screen are the only real incongruity; the actual games themselves are squares and lines of various shades of green.
Best of all, you have one control mechanism: the button. Push the button, release the button. That’s what you have. That’s all you have. That’s all you DESERVE, kid.
Are the games repetitive? Oh, you bet your ass. But a lot of them are actually kinda fun.
The best of the bunch is probably mini-golf. Hold the button, and your golfer starts swaying side to side. Release it, and thwack! Hope you got the angle right! Because on this course, either you get a hole in one or you DIE.
But my personal favorite is the unauthorized port of Flappy Bird. It’s just too perfect. This is what home video game ports were like back in the day, people: sad, wretched parodies of the beloved games they claimed to represent. And we had to just roll with it, because it was this or nothing. NOTHING.
There are some problems here, unfortunately — beyond just the obvious ones imposed by the hilariously grim self-imposed limitations. Some of the games are such simple exercises in obvious timing that they never manage to really be interesting — Baseball and Platformer are the worst offenders. Shooter is just plain broken; pushing the button is supposed to shoot a bullet and make your ship move the opposite direction across the bottom of the screen. Unfortunately, pushing the button unleashes such a terrifying bulletstorm flood that it’s seriously 50/50 as to whether you’ll keep going the same direction as before (presumably because you shot an even number of bullets) or reverse (presumably because you shot odd), which makes the game much too random.
The worst bug, unfortunately, is the menu that’s supposed to allow you to quit the game and select a new one. It flat out doesn’t work. However, after much button mashing, I discovered “Shift” will actually allow you to do something other than resume the game you’re on.
Also, I will note that the music and sound effects in general are MUCH too nice for a machine of the era. Given that the era-appropriate soundscape would be a jagged and horrifying journey through electronic hell, I respect the decision to fudge it.
Is it fun? It is … amusing. And I note that the developer just did a mobile port. Turning my iPhone into THIS might actually be the ideal environment.
It’s honestly more of a joke than a game … but it’s a pretty good joke. And I did have fun playing some of the games.
What the hell. Recommended. It’s a silly little thing, but I found it endearing.
Will the next game use more than one color?
Page 1, Game 1: Overland by Finji
“A squad-based survival strategy game with procedurally generated levels set in post-apocalyptic North America.”
No joke, I have NOT been fudging the random numbers; I’ve been using them exclusively and faithfully since the second game. I seriously just randomly rolled-up Page 1, Game 1.
The description sounds great, and this is the bundle’s lead-off hitter. Somebody certainly though it was worth putting front and center.
DREADFUL is three adventures for the horror RPG Dread. Dread’s big mechanical shtick is that conflict is resolved with Jenga. Make the tower fall? Then ya FUCKED. Pretty dope conceit, if you like a sense of escalating danger and tension — and if you’re playing a horror RPG, seems safe to assume you do.
The first scenario in this bundle puts the PCs in a slasher movie, the second a haunted house, and the third a monster movie. In all three cases, the author put a lot of work into resources allowing the PCs to define their characters. I don’t know if that’s just standard issue for Dread, but it seems like the sort of thing that would really get the players to invest in the over-pressurized blood blisters they’ll be portraying.
I’m less convinced by some of the details in the scenarios. The first one, the slasher pic, has a lot of guidelines for escalating the tension as the PCs investigate just what the hell is going on, hopefully before they get killed. What IS going on? What is the killer? What’s his deal? How does he/she/it operate? Cool questions, bro. Come up with something awesome and just slot it on in there, eh?
The haunted house does a lot more work laying down the backstory, which seems like it would give the GM a lot more to work with by allowing the PCs to be chasing something concrete. A lot of the recommended tension is supposed to come from the fact that the house is basically an ever-shifting TARDIS, and the PCs will be unable to escape — despite recommending that the GM steer them towards making that their goal. So, how do you execute that without feeling like you’re just fucking with them (which you very obviously are)? How do you keep them invested in trying to escape when you’re just going to respond to everything they try with a sadistic “Nope!” even if you have to ignore rudimentary physics to do it? How do you keep your horror game from feeling like a horror movie with a lazy screenwriter? That’s a YOU problem, bro.
The monster one has an interesting twist, in that the PCs are supposed to be able to make peaceful contact with the obvious monster, and that it’s the monster’s MOTHER you really gotta watch out for. Even though the monster horrifically kills people, too. We’re kinda grading on a curve here.
I dunno. I’m not sold on these, but a lot of care clearly went into producing them. It’s entirely possible that a veteran Dread-head would read this book and be all “Dude, STFU, these are fabulous! These are gonna make my players literally shit themselves in terror!”
So if that’s something you aspire to yourself, what the hell. If you play Dread, these might be worth a look. Or they might not. It’ll only cost you $3 to find out one way or the other.
Are we gonna do three Jenga games in a row? Perl script, hit me!
Page 58, Game 27: Pocket Square by CodyMace
I have literally no idea what to expect, but I’m going to guess the answer to my question is “No.”
You have created an AI. Your AI is about to do something apocalyptically stupid, and you would rather it not. So, you’re going to talk it down — possibly while figuring out how to pull the plug on the thing.
What’s it going to do? How are you going to convince it to not do it? And how is all that working out? Figuring out that shit is what the game is all about.
At a glance, this “game” sounds like a glorified writing prompt. However, digging into it a bit reveals that no, for real, this is a game, no scare-quotes needed. There’s a hell of a lot of structure here, even actual mechanics.
To play it, you’re going to need a deck of playing cards and a Jenga tower. I only have the former. If had both, I might seriously consider sitting down and giving this a try. (The rules claim you don’t TECHNICALLY need it, but come on, if I’m gonna do this thing, let’s DO this thing.) This thing is well thought-out and looks damned interesting.
If you have cards, Jenga, and would enjoy a very highly structured sci-fi writing exercise, this is absolutely worth a closer look.
What’s up next?
Page 34, Game 18: DREADFUL by LostDutchman
“3 Campaign Dread Supplemental”
Okay, another tabletop game that uses Jenga as a mechanic. Super unlikely to play, but let’s see if it makes me want to.
You’re a young fella living in Paris. You love playing basketball with your dad — and your little sister, Belle. One day, when you’re retrieving an errant shot, little Belle wanders off. Naturally, you go after her … but ominously, you keep running into strange, shadowy monsters.
Better find her soon.
Actual gameplay quickly turns into a series of platformer puzzles where the goal is to put the ball in the hoop. Purely from a gameplay perspective, it’s … fine. Played better, played worse. It doesn’t always do a good job of laying out its fundamental mechanics. For instance, your movement is severely restricted when you have a ball in your hands; if you jump, you HAVE to shoot the ball, which seems like a weird choice for a jumping game. I wasted a lot of time trying to figure out how to keep a hold of the goddamn thing after I landed so I could jump up somewhere and put myself in a position to get it in the basket.
Some puzzles rely on you shooting the ball from a particular spot or trying the same thing that didn’t work several times in a row. Solving those levels never felt satisfying; I didn’t feel clever, I felt lucky. I felt like I’d accidentally stumbled into the solution just by pure flailling.
This game just feels complete, in a way that a lot of the games I’ve tried simply don’t. It feels and sounds warm and whimsical. The intro where your father teaches you the basic moves had me hooked, and just playing around with my little sister gave me a stake in the story.
It just works, dammit.
It took me a half hour or so to play the story to completion, and that felt about right. Even if I got a tad annoyed here and there, BasketBelle never wore out its welcome.
And that swoosh payoff at the end of each level when I finally made it past the monster (or monster’s digestive tract) to bang home that shot satisfied me from the beginning of the game to the end.
If BasketBelle sounds at all interesting to you, I can definitely recommend giving it a look.
Code, code, in my machine What is the next game we shall see?
Page 22, Game 18: A Mother’s Love by Jake Bhattacharyya
“A solo journaling game about humanity, sacrifice, and artificial intelligence.”
Ah, another game where I’m probably going to be willing to look but not actually play. Some of those have looked pretty cool.
You’re a small, horned child whose home has just been burned — by your neighbors. Apparently, your mother wasn’t quite human, and the other villagers didn’t appreciate that. You’re alone, in the woods, looking for the ruins where a spectre who can speak to the dead is believed to dwell.
To get there, you’re going to need to do some sneaking around. The ruins are patrolled by what appear to be werewolves, who will kill you on sight.
Luckily, you can focus your mind into mind-bombs, which destroy them. Temporarily. They’ll be back in a moment. Step lively.
This games feels like a rookie developer’s early outing, so I don’t want to go too hard on it. There’s nothing about it that actively pissed me off. Unfortunately, the game just doesn’t work all that well. Everything about it feels choppy and clumsy. The game clearly shows the eyelines for the werewolves, so you can gauge when you can try to get by them … roughly. The highlighted “I can see you” zones ignore walls, but the ACTUAL sightlines don’t, meaning you can’t completely trust what the game is telling you. Also, when you crouch down, your head is obviously much taller than the shorter walls — but crouching behind a short wall makes you invisible. It’s hard to really get into the game when I don’t know whether to believe what it’s telling me visually.
Also, the story just wasn’t working for me. It gets off to a hell of a start, no question, but when the game commands me to run away, I don’t appear to be running away from any actual danger; everything that wants to kill me is as of yet in front of me. Why are there werewolves patrolling the ruins? Does my status as half-beast-boy mean nothing to them? Are they just as prejudiced as the villagers who killed my family? Or are they naturally this violent? If so, the mob might have had some legit concerns if these guys are accurate representation of Mom’s side of the family, you know?
Why do I have mind-blast powers? Why does my mind-blast destroy werewolves, but only temporarily?
Where am I going? Why am I so desperate to get there? The werewolves CLEARLY do not want me wandering around their turf.
There’s no save mechanism, so you have to finish the story in one sitting. I didn’t. First time, I had to set the game aside to do something else, and it wouldn’t start back up when I came back. Second time, it simply glitched out.
It isn’t a dreadful game, but it definitely falls well short of being professional-grade. Ah, well. Hopefully the dev has better projects in them.
This is not to say I think the game developer ACTUALLY IS a right-wing douchebag getting their troll on. I think this is earnestly meant as a piece of power-trip catharsis for protesters and the protest-curious. But if you were to tell me “Actually, bro, I’ve been following the dev’s personal Twitter feed and it is MAGA AS FUCK,” I’d be like, “Yeah, I can see it.”
This is a side-scrolling beat-em-up, loosely in the style of Double Dragons or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. The legit interesting twist on this one, though, is that you recruit followers to your cause (by standing outside the appropriate buildings and pressing the “recruit” button). Soon, your isolated radical has become a leader! The people are united! And they are there to take back the streets!
And by “take back,” I mean “kill cops and wreck shit.” That’s your goal; wreck stuff, kill cops. In the early stages, the cops don’t even attack you unless you attack them first — and if one of the disposable mooks following you around gets close enough, they absolutely will throw the first punch. This gets less true fairly quickly as the game progresses, but fuck me, by that point, after all the cops we’ve brutally murdered, I kinda don’t blame them for being a little trigger happy. I don’t think it counts as paranoia or excessive force when they really ARE out to leave you beaten to death in the street, you know?
You gain weapons as you go — sometimes hiding within all those delightfully smashable crates, sometimes just hanging out in the middle of the street. Some people might be suspicious of piles of bricks sitting right where a protest might be headed. But are YOU gonna overlook what is clearly God’s effort to arm your righteous fury? I think not!
There is just so much about this game that grosses me out. It starts with the over-the-top Soviet-esque propaganda feel of the framing story. It feels like a parody, like speculation on what anti-Western propaganda might feel like if the USSR had survived to the modern day — except I’m not at all confident the author is in on the joke. I’m no fanboy of unchecked capitalism, but unironically embracing brutal totalitarianism because it too had beef with capitalism isn’t a form of “progress” I can get behind.
I hate the way this game treats protesting as a vehicle for murder and destruction. You’re there to kill people, and leave their mangled little pixelated corpses lying in the street behind you. You’re there to wreck shit. You’re here to skip all the boring chanting bullshit and skip directly to rioting, aka The Fun Part. It’s protesting as envisioned by the memes that one Fox-news-obsessed jagoff you knew from high school keeps posting in Facebook. It’s activism as imagined by dipshit teenage anarchists cosplaying as revolutionaries.
But most of all, I hate the crowd mechanic. When the character you’re controlling dies, you keep going as long as you still have at least one of your disposable followers is still alive — they’ll pick up the flag (literally) and carry it forward. You get the highest ranking by maximizing the number of followers still alive by the end of the level, but ultimately, your casualties are irrelevant as long as one of you slaughters their way through to the end.
This game feels like it fucking despises protesters, and has nothing but contempt for what it sees as their simplistic and violent worldview and their sheeplike devotion to a cause that regards them as nothing but disposable cannon fodder. I have no idea if that represents a dramatic misfire and the complete opposite of what the dev intended, or if that’s secretly the entire goddamn point.
Either way, I’m out. Especially these days.
Perhaps the next game will piss me off less?
Page 17, Game 24: Spectres of the Cold by Daniel Savage
“Here I felt my flesh become the food of my fears.”
Yeah, some nice soothing existential dread sounds like just the thing.
For this playthrough, I’m not a huge fan of games that are meant to be multi-player. I just wanna play the games at my own speed and not have to worry about corralling my wife to properly evaluate them. Besides, from what I’ve seen, implementation of many-players-one-screen can be a tad spotty. I don’t think you can assume that your average PC gamer has anything more than a keyboard and a mouse, quite honestly. I’ve seen “multiplayer” games that assume you have a multi-controller setup of some sort and … yeah, no.
So if you’re gonna get multiple people on the same screen, you probably need to cram them all onto the same keyboard. That can be awkward.
KeyCars addresses this problem in the most lunk-headedly simple way imaginable: controlling your car takes one key.
If your car doesn’t exist yet, pressing a key brings it to life! If it DOES exist, holding down that same key makes it turn right!
That’s it. That’s the game.
Oh, and space bar will spawn a bunch of CPU-controlled vehicles, which collectively have the survival skills of a concussed lemming.
The game really does feel like the most disappointing toy from my childhood. I wanted a remote-control car for Christmas, because that shit looked fuckin’ AWESOME. My parents, being broke AF, managed to find something that met the absolute barest possible minimum requirements for the requested toy. When you turned on the car in question, it immediately drove in a straight line. No throttle or anything like it — it would just go straight forward at its top speed, which was not terribly fast. The remote had a single button; hold it down, and the car will suddenly go in REVERSE! But while it’s going in reverse, it turns in a circle!
It’s the lamest, most awkward way to control a vehicle that still technically renders it capable of being directed somewhere.
Just as long as that somewhere was on a perfectly flat surface; carpet was WAY too rough a terrain for this damn thing to handle. Basically, I could sit in the kitchen and bang it off the fridge and the kitchen table chair legs until I got too frustrated by it to bother playing with it any more. Which happened quickly.
A few years later, I asked for ANOTHER remote-control car. I was too young to have the words to request “And could it please not be a total piece of shit? Can it be one of those cars that can, like, go places, and steer, and actually be fun to play with?”
I got the same fucking thing again. Except this one was green.
So, yeah, when your game is reminding me of the most bitterly disappointing ass-tastic toys of the mid 70’s, your game is not putting me in a headspace conducive to a favorable review.
And yet … it almost works, kind of. It doesn’t. But it gets closer than I’d think. One of the big problems is that the collision detection (the point of the game) that determines which car wrecks the other is weirdly arbitrary; I felt like too many collisions in which my car was the clear aggressor wound up with me asploded and the other car unscathed. A larger problem is that the score tracker only shows how many “points” you’ve racked-up since the most recent incarnation of your car spawned. That kinda wrecks any sense of ongoing progress; why is it not showing me a kill/death ratio for each relevant key? That’d be way more fun.
It’d also be a lot more fun if the CPU cars weren’t such flaming imbeciles. Seriously, I don’t want the AI to be Mad Max out there, but when you spawn NPC cars, it’s only a matter of time before the stupid bastards drive off the side of the map on their own. Even when the last car has the arena entirely to itself. Can I get just a little more challenge, please?
It’s silly and chaotic. It feels like with a little more refinement, it’d be fun, too. And what the hell, if you feel like daring your friends to play a 20-player game on your laptop, this will let you say you did it.
So what’s the next one gonna be like?
Page 2, Game 14: Tonight We Riot by Means Interactive
“A revolutionary crowd-based retro brawler”
I assume that the “revolutionary” is more a reference to smashing capitalism and/or chucking tea in the harbor, and not a claim to wildly innovative gameplay.
Given that it’s a RETRO brawler, I’m kinda hoping for the tea, actually.