All of this extraordinarily dry puzzle game-mechanics talk aside, this game is tripping on more acid than Beautiful Katamari’s developers could’ve possibly ingested in a year. The self-referential hamster wheel this game seems to enjoy running on so much only grows more and more evident as the game experience moves along. Perhaps in some attempt to flaunt their oh-so-obvious knowledge of “Video Game Arts”, the developers randomly scattered mini-games throughout the story mode that look, act, and sometimes play like a variety of classic games on many different gaming platforms. Trust me, when you start launching a green slime thing named Tama off of what appears to be a spring in the Green Hills level of Sonic the Hedgehog, you’re going to feel your mind begin to melt—but not as quickly as it might when you’re forced navigate an 8-bit sprite through a sequence of mini-dungeons that can only be completed by selecting the right adventure command to kill slimes, flush toilets, sit in chairs, or pull Master Sword wannabes out of a very familiar triangular stone before arriving at the chest he must open.
The fun doesn’t stop at the mini games—just wait until one of the developers address an “unintended bug” that has somehow caused Amy’s sprite to randomly swap panels of her graphic around, and proceeds to explain why this “art style” is incredibly new and hip to his “Video Game Arts” apprentice who appears to be some sort of advanced slime thing that has figured out how to grow a body beneath its bulbous green head—right before suggesting that Amy Puzzle Battle for the right to have her sprite fixed.
Or how about when the character named Aiba asks Amy to help him find the “COLRARMR” (Items and spells can only have 8 characters where he’s from, duh) so that he can upgrade from 8 colors to 256 colors after an explanation from a translucent blue version of Hao known as “Dr. Left” about the mask and transparent layers of sprites (programming included). There is a constant feeling of “What is this I don’t even…” all the way down this rabbit hole.
This game was as much of a headache as it was entertaining. The ingloriously self-edifying, druggie-meets-weeaboo story mode serve to further remind me why I still hate the concept of a spin-off. Buy this game if you’re interested in seeing how much mental flip-flopping you can handle before you begin developing a brain tumor—it is only meant for the most detail-oriented, obsessive puzzle gamers that enjoy riding the Jap train all the way to crazytown. One thing still bothers me though, as the developers are ethnically half-Chinese: are they just making fun of the whole Japanese game industry with this? Or is this a serious product?
The world may never know.
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