ARE WE ROLLING, BOB?

 At first glance, aside from the art style and the likeable narrator Bob, there seems little to link the first game with this one, at least in terms of gameplay. Instead of being confined to a series of rooms inside a lighthouse, Another Fisherman’s Tale is a seafaring adventure, with many different settings both above and below the sea. This time around, Bob is a marionette with string limbs who can detach his head and hands from his body.

His head can’t move around when separated from the body but can be projected to different viewpoints, acting as a third-person camera, and his hands and body can scuttle around independently of one another. Bob’s stringy, detachable hands can also be replaced with other things such as a crab’s claw or a pirate’s hook. As you can imagine, this leads to some unique and interesting puzzles; there’s something almost Nintendo-y about the playful and creative ways this is explored throughout the game, and the levels are never quite what you’d expect. 

HERE’S THE THING

There’s great fun to be had controlling Bob’s body parts. No, not like that you filthy animals. At its best, such as when you’re sending one of Bob’s hands scurrying into an air vent to retrieve a vital puzzle piece, it can feel like the Addams Family game we all want and deserve. Some controls can take some patience and don’t always feel quite as intuitive or well-honed as they might. Rotating the detached hands with the controllers can often feel a bit of an unpleasant strain on the wrists; both of us who’ve played it here in the 6DoF fortress think that this particular aspect of the controls could use some work.

For the most part, interacting with the game is quite joyful, but this makes the things which aren’t quite as good stand out a little more than in other games which are just janky per se. 

ARE YOU STANDING COMFORTABLY?

The first game was an original puzzle game which blended clever gameplay with a dose of armchair philosophy, and it did it very well. The sequel tries to inflate both these aspects in equal measure, but it’s only partially successful in bringing them together, and the result is uneven. Given the game’s short running time, I’m even more concerned about avoiding spoilers than usual, so I won’t go into specifics. I will say that the story explores themes of freedom, responsibility, memory and commitment, and some of it feels very heavy-handed and jarring, and really doesn’t marry up with the fun gameplay nearly as much as it should. Instead, the need to tell a meaningful story sometimes overshadows (if not interrupts) some really nifty, clever and fun gameplay. It really doesn’t work for me – imagine Super Mario Odyssey occasionally breaking off for a slideshow on the nature of identity. One of the game’s five chapters takes a detour into being an only vaguely interactive and quite poorly written musical, which actually left me wondering where the game had gone. The gameplay just does not support the narrative in a way that weaves it all together, or vice versa for that matter. Later in the game, it feels like two hugely conflicting forces are at play. 

There’s some lovely and moving stuff in and amongst, but it is often undone by clunky realisation in other areas. Bob’s narration, delivered in what is clearly not the actor’s first language, is mostly charming in its delivery but has some moments when you wish the direction had been stronger for him. One actor is playing all the female characters in the game and her performances are extremely variable. The story tries to make points about childhood, memory and the effects of age; when the child in the game sounds this irritating and unconvincing, and the elderly mum has such a silly, put-on old lady voice, it just doesn’t work.

IT’S A BEAUTY

Let’s delve into some of the good stuff though. Another Fisherman’s Tale is beautiful. Sumptuous at times. It has a very strong visual identity and a lovely variety of levels. Some of the ideas and vistas here will make you gasp, and the way it initially seems like a slightly disconnected sequel but reveals itself to be directly related is very well done, and a treat for those who played and loved the original. The music is lovely but suffers from some quite obvious looping in places.

When the game is happy identifying as a platform puzzler it has some rewarding and delightful moments which you won’t find anywhere else, and make a very strong case for VR as a medium. Whilst I think the story and ponderous exploration of its themes ultimately bloat and harm the game, there are some genuinely touching moments in and amongst which still warrant a playthrough.

CATCH OF THE DAY

Another Fisherman’s Tale is an original game with a lot of heart, and some things about it will make you smile. Narrative stodge and unwieldy storytelling get in the way of both the gameplay and the tale it’s actually trying to tell. There’s a lot of what feels like padding in an already short game, and this is a shame as it will have some of us reaching for the refund button or simply not buying it at all. The fact is there are some aspects of Another Fisherman’s Tale which really should be experienced.

If there is a case to be made for Oculus providing a monthly subscription service with shorter experiences included to download and play, then Another Fisherman’s Tale makes it very strongly.

As much as What the Golf? Had very little to do with Golf (thankfully), What the Bat? has very little to do with Baseball – or any other sport involving a bat for that matter.

A Batter Tomorrow

The game’s protagonist has baseball bats for hands. The game takes you through their life in a series of quick-fire levels. These see you do everything from learning to brush your teeth to playing fetch with your dog and working a till at your day job with these unusual appendages.

There’s much here similar to Job Simulator, not least because you are physically static and the elements of each mini-game are presented in proximity.

There are similarities, too, to Tentacular, as the game’s “physics” are a bit intentionally wonky and unrealistic.

For similar reasons, the game also brings a liberal helping of aim-assist to bear on proceedings. This keeps the player from struggling with trying to get exactly the right angle and power every time they swing their bat hands at a target.

Bat? Stick? Crazy!

The game’s music is generally upbeat and bouncy to match the silly, colourful, cartoon art style, but it comes with a lovely gimmick. When you look at your in-game imaginary friend, who happens to be a big blue elephant, the music changes tone to incorporate more base with a tuba-esque sound. This is the kind of detail that belies the game’s simple presentation to reveal a nicely polished product.

Another nice surprise is the game’s absurd, borderline surreal, sense of humour. Each mini-game starts with a simple task but then iterates it in bizarre and consistently funny ways.

As an example, an early level has you ten-pin bowling which, as you’d imagine, starts with you batting a bowling ball down a lane to knock over skittles. But once that is complete, the next game has rubber skittles, another has a U-shaped lane, and still, another has you holding the skittles as your elephant friend shoots the balls at you.

This approach does a great job of keeping the gameplay fresh and surprising throughout.

Bigger isn’t always Batter!

What the Bat? Has a very specific and deliberate style and tone, and it’s impossible to ignore that some might find this off-putting. There’s no deep story here, no groundbreaking visuals, nor a sweeping cinematic score.

What the Bat? Is coming from a different place with a different intention to those you see from ‘AAA’ games, but in the same way you wouldn’t directly compare Nintendo’s Warioware series to their Zelda games, nor should What the Bat? Be compared to those more cinematic and mainstream products.

Batting for the bleachers?

What the Bat? Is not a room-scale game, and at the other end of the scale, you wouldn’t get the best out of it playing seated. However, it does require a little more space than some standing experiences, as I discovered when I knocked my real-world monitor off my desk while trying to smash an in-game TV!

There’s no getting away from the fact that What the Bat? is a ‘small’ game in every way. There are a hundred levels that will take you 4 hours or so to beat, and even the file size is just half a gig. But it very much proves the old cliché that ‘good things come in small packages’.

The quick-fire style and ridiculous humour won’t be for everybody, but if you’ve previously enjoyed Job Simulator or any of the Warioware games, then you can probably add half a point or more to the score.

Oh, but I have.

Tentacular is a monster of a game. Sure, you play as a giant squid, but it’s also a far bigger game than you might think by looking at the trailer, wistfully written and voiced by somebody who sounds like a cross between Ian McKellen and John Hurt. You might think it’s a short game made for children, a mini-game compendium or something of the sort, and, having been stung by short, childish V.R. experiences, you might skip it entirely. You’d be making a huge, nay, monstrous mistake. 

My Tentacles Are Tentacular

When Tentacular starts, the first character you have to get acquainted with is yourself. Welcome to life as a giant squid. We’ll ignore your eight arms and focus on your two tentacles, a reasonable choice since you only have two controllers, and you wouldn’t know what to do with more. The game quickly familiarizes you with your somewhat stretchy, elastic appendages. You can grab things with your suction cups, throw stuff around, and splash the water like an overgrown squid-child. Right from the get-go, Tentacular does the right things; anything you think you can grab, you can. Objects vary in weight, material, and texture, and their sounds match perfectly. Metal objects clang together. Things splash in a satisfying way when you fling them in the water. Louder when close, softer when away. The world of Tentacular is papable, immersive, and joyful. 

As a lone member of your species, your best friend is a friendly island inhabitant who, although human, considers herself your sister. She loves you, fears for you, and makes sure the other island dwellers aren’t afraid of you. Tentacular then starts weaving a great story that I won’t spoil for you, but it starts with you helping out the islanders, finding out more about your origins, feeling torn between two island geniuses who have differing ideas on how you could be made useful and then progresses deeper and deeper until it reaches a satisfying ending. 

Terrific Tentacles Are My Turf

If you strip away all the cute characters, the charming gibberish voiceovers, and the storyline, the gameplay involves solving physics-based puzzles. You start by doing relatively simple things; throwing things about, stacking them, learning how to use your huge tentacles with precision and care, and generally just getting…Tentacular. 

The game then introduces you to various clever inventions, known by their acronym M.A.G.N.E.T.S., which function, unsurprisingly, like…magnets. However, these particular magnets come in multiple forms, and each form comes in different sizes. Some are circular, some allow for rotations, some are gravity aware and will always remain upright, and some come in pairs linked together. There are other variations, but you don’t want to hear me go on about types of magnets. 

Suffice to say that the puzzles in Tentacular are great, and there are a lot of them. Unlike games like Unbinary, which left me unimpressed, the puzzles in Tentacular ramp up perfectly and show off a wonderfully nuanced physics engine. They start nice and easy and become more complex and challenging, and the hardest puzzles of all, requiring intricate architectural skills, are left to the side missions, which you can either play along the way or come back to after the endgame. In this sense, and many others, Tentracular is perfectly designed.

Terrestrial Technicalities

The presentation of Tentacular is superb, and it’s evident from the moment the game loads up. The intro scene sets a huge Tentacular sign in front of you. Around you are various random objects that you can grab and throw around, and two large banners show you the two most important buttons you need to know. Tentacular wants you to have fun, and it makes that clear right off the bat.

The graphics in Tentacular are appropriately cartoony and colorful. Like everything else in the game, they demonstrate that the game has had a lot of love poured into every inch of it. The characters are all unique; if you hear a small dog barking and turn to pet it gently, it’ll whimper in pleasure, and little hearts will float around it. 

Tentacular rejoices in V.R., and the joy is contagious. The chapter selection options, for example, are impressively immersive. You click on a shop on the island called GameStomp, and all your previous chapters are available as game cartridges that you can use to replay any of your completed missions.

The attention to detail and the effort put into the game extend to the options screen. Most V.R. games will throw up a two-dimensional layer at you with all the settings available, but Tentacular gives you another scene with switches and levers and an actual mixing panel for the audio. 

The sound is equally superb. The gibberish voices of the game’s characters are charming, and the sound effects are good, perfectly utilizing spatial audio. The music is fun throughout, whimsical at times, more foreboding when needed, and exciting when the action ramps up during the game’s final chapter.

Tentaculous Twists and Turns

In a world of short experiences and V.R. games that sometimes seem like extended demos, Tentacular is as generous as it is loving. 

Despite getting the game a few days before it was released, Tentacular took a lot longer to complete than I had expected. It took around 8 hours to complete the game, and that’s with me skipping some side missions so I could finish the game and write this review. I also enjoyed it so much that I refused to rush through it and burn myself out on it. Don’t let your prejudices put you off this game. It is cute, but it’s challenging. It is whimsical, but it’s a complete meal. It sells at full price but is worth every penny unless you just don’t enjoy solving physics-based puzzles armed only with your wits and huge towering tentacles.

Tentacularly Trounced

Tentacular is a class act, pure and simple, and Firepunchd Games should be commended and recognized for putting out a fantastic game with a lot of heart and incredible polish that reaches into every nook and cranny of the title, including the credits sequence. 

With great graphics and sound, a heartfelt narrative with some pop-culture references thrown in for good measure, Tentacular is a must-have for any fan of puzzlers and an excellent experience for V.R. games of all ages. Stop thinking about it and exchange some of your money for a delightful set of tentacles!

If you’re unfamiliar with all three games I’ve mentioned, Lucky’s Tale is a Third-Person 3D Platformer in VR. You go around collecting coins and gems, and doing some Mario-type combat, jumping up to smash enemies from above, and stunning them in different ways so you can finish them off. It’s a somewhat odd genre to bring into VR, and it’s often challenging to pull off this type of game without making the player wonder why it’s taking place in VR in the first place.

In short, it takes some effort to make this genre stick the landing in VR. If you’re an avid reader of our reviews, you’ll know that Moss did a great job, while Ven VR Adventure disappointed us on many levels.

So how does Lucky’s Tale, a game from 2016, fare?

The short answer? Surprisingly well!

Sure, There’s a Story…

As platformers go, there’s nothing particularly innovative about Lucky’s Tale. You control the titular character, Lucky, as he goes off in search of his pig friend, aptly if predictably called Piggy. Piggy’s been kidnapped by the evil tentacled villain of the story, Glorp, and you must platform to save him. Is Piggy a him? Maybe it’s a her? They? It? Who cares? You must save Piggy!

To save Piggy, you make your way through a bunch of levels, jumping, double-jumping, collecting coins, defeating various baddies, and earning lives. Lucky’s Tale is pretty linear but does a few things to spice things up. There are collectibles strewn about off the beaten path, some of which can be quite challenging to find or collect, and underground levels that play like miniature dioramas. It’s also full of things to discover, weeds that’ll throw off coins if you whack them and glimmering semi-invisible coins that you’ll only see if you get close enough to. Sometimes little timed challenges in the middle of a level where you can collect a series of colorful gems, rewarding you with a giant gem if you succeed. Various side-jaunts will reward you with an extra life if you make the trip successfully but are just as likely to cost you one.

Again, nothing shocking, but it’s all done quite well, and everything blends together nicely and just feels good. 

You Feeling Lucky, Punk?

Lucky’s Tale oozes polish right from the get-go.

The world of Lucky’s Tale feels alive, welcoming, and cute. Everything reacts to your presence, including Lucky himself. If you move your hand close to him, he’ll follow it with his head and eyes. Dandelions split apart if you walk Lucky into them or hit them, plants tilt and bend, little critters are all over the map, reacting to your movements. The levels in Lucky’s Tale feel alive and warm, and the graphical flourishes are abundant. Little puffs of smoke when you double jump, splashes in the water, particle effects, etc. It’s a world that’s lived in and alive.

In a world of half-finished, early-access, launch-day patches and clunky promises, it feels good to play a game that feels absolutely complete and tweaked to be as good as it possibly can be.

Another reason to like it is that it never, ever feels unfair. The camera is smooth and always lets you see what you’re doing, and the collision detection is precise when combating enemies and a little forgiving when collecting coins and gems. Perfect. 

Surely, This Fox Has a Weakness…

However, despite all that it does well, Lucky’s Tale is weakened by a few relatively weak elements. Here is where I niggle.

The biggest issue really is that although it’s very nicely polished, it doesn’t entirely justify its existence in VR. This may not be a problem for people who only own a Quest as a gaming platform or who are still enthralled by the novelty of seeing cute things happen in VR. Still, it won’t impress seasoned gamers who expect a VR game to really take advantage of the medium. The only real parts of the game that demand something that can only be done in VR is when you use your head to target bombs that you can lob at baddies and bosses. To be fair, though, this element is incorporated well and never feels as horrifically tacked on as the 4th rate Beat Saber clone Ven throws at you to slow you down as you near its end.

Although the graphics and animations are superb, as are the sound effects, the music in Lucky’s Tale, although appropriate, quickly grows repetitive, only varying when something special is going on. It’s not bad, but it just doesn’t shine as well as the rest of the game does. 

Another minor annoyance (I’m struggling to be a critic here) is that when you load up the game to continue, the ‘book,’ which acts like a menu, always reverts to the first page, forcing you to flick all the way through to where you’ve stopped.

Big deal? No. Not at all. 

They Never Last? Do They? 

Lucky’s Tale is quite generous, giving you more than a dozen levels divided into three chapters and featuring two boss fights. It took me around five hours to complete the campaign and never wore its welcome. 

For replayability, Luckys Tale offers some great value: time-trails for each level, where you can skip all the enemies you want (although you can save time by bouncing off them), and also features an additional ‘find the red coins’ mode where you have to, er…find red coins hidden throughout each level.

A Bundle of Joy

Lucky’s Tale isn’t a revolutionary game nor a must-have Quest game like Resident Evil 4. It doesn’t innovate the way a game like Resist does, but it doesn’t need to. Lucky’s Tale knows what it is, and it’s happy to be just that, and developers Playful, true to their name, do their hardest to make sure you have a smile on your face all the way through. To do this, Lucky’s Tale pulls out all the stops; great character, cute animations, responsive environment, straightforward gameplay mechanics, slowly incrementing as the game progresses, a good variety of levels and monsters, and, at this point in time, it’s the best all-around third-person 3D platformer you can play on Quest. It’s a joy for adults, and if you let your children play with your Quest, they will undoubtedly enjoy it a great deal. Lucky’s Tale is very, very easy to recommend for fans of the genre. 

In this first-person adventure, you play Allegro, who, guided by his sister, Allegra, embarks on an adventure in an ancient mystical land. An intriguing opening tutorial talks of an invading army destroying a planet’s ecosystem and upsetting a delicate magical balance.

The production is slick and polished, and between this and the trailers, the expectation of quality is set long before your first teleported step is taken.

King of the swingers

Ionia splits its game time between exploration, puzzles, and the occasional theme-park ride style intermission. A fourth unignorable element is an ongoing exposition, which is usually delivered during gameplay breaks by Allegra but occasionally by another unseen narrator.

Ground-based movement is achieved through teleportation, with options for full-motion available in the settings for those with a strong stomach. Whatever you choose, you’ll also spend a good amount of time moving vertically by ascending bright yellow vines or ladders made of wood or bricks… or mushrooms.

Climbing is achieved by gripping onto things with the controllers and pulling yourself upwards; it’s always a ‘smooth’ movement-action but can be paired with teleporting when necessary.

The puzzles are where the game offers the most player agency and are usually solved by carrying items to a location or, in keeping with the rhythmical world theme, by interacting with a fantastical musical instrument.

The Jungle VIP

The audiovisual side of things is where Ionia excels – but also where the self-described ‘for all ages’ part of its marketing blurb is most prevalent. The dilapidated forest world is brought to life with an earthy consistency and depth. The landscapes are full of bizarre, imaginative, doe-eyed creatures. The voice acting, too, is of a high standard and the, sometimes convoluted, dialogue is delivered with a lot of enthusiasm.

As you woAs you would hope with a game set in a universe born of music, the orchestral folk tunes are beautifully realised, if sometimes a little forgettable. They are all nicely woven into the background noises of the game world and entirely in keeping with the natural vibe of the game.

Reached the top and had to stop

Ionia fundamentally fails at providing a fun, challenging, or entertaining experience on just about every level. Its high production values cannot mask a game that offers little gameplay, and it bungles the delivery of its world-building and lore to the extent that, at its end, you feel like you’re being beaten over the head by Deus Ex Machina.

Beginning with the tutorial, continued with Allegra’s endless prattling and bizarre hallucinogenic history lessons along the way, and right into the bafflingly trite conclusion, Ionia is desperate to tell you about its world – but seems almost as desperate to not let you explore it.

On the technical level, the teleportation implementation causes frustration by seeming to have a cooldown period. It’s only a second or so, but it means you can’t hop through the game at any pace.

A much bigger problem is how little the game actually lets you explore. Trying to teleport to an area of a level that is deemed impossible to reach will see your reticle and guide arc turn red. This happens with such regularity that I’m sure I saw more of this colour in my time with the game than I did anything else. 

This total lack of freedom is compounded during the moments when you’re forced to listen to Allegra’s exposition. For the entirety of the sequence, you will be routed in place. Then, with rage-inducing audacity, her dialogue will tell you to get a move on and follow her – while all the while, the red icons of incapacity keep you rooted to the spot.

When you can move about, you’ll find yourself funnelled through a very narrow playable area. This isn’t unusual in VR games, but most are far better at hiding it than Ionia. The almost universally loved Half-Life: Alyx features similar gameplay ‘corridors’, but the restrictions of an apartment building or train carriage are far less jarring than a knee-high pile of rocks or some insubstantial vegetation.

Climbing, too, is a completely guided experience, but it also offers a complete absence of weight or tactility. Moving hand over hand along a single bright yellow vine, you are struck by a jarring lack of physics. There is a muted audio cue to indicate when you have gripped a climbable surface or item, but no haptic feedback at all. All the time, you’re listening carefully to ensure you don’t plummet (miraculously unharmed) to the floor below. When you reach the end, invariably, a puzzle awaits.

These are, without exception, insultingly easy. Most involve playing specific notes on an instrument, the solution to which will be written in plain view somewhere nearby.

There is a single section, about halfway through, where the nucleus of a good game can be seen: A room-sized puzzle that put me in mind of Tomb Raider. Runes to be placed, arcane symbols to be aligned, secret doorways to be revealed – but sadly, this is but a brief interlude in the verbose world building and on rails gameplay that mars the rest of the experience.

And that’s what’s botherin’ me

From start to finish, Ionia will take you 90 minutes. Trust me when I tell you this is a blessing in disguise. Any longer spent imprisoned in this world of invisible walls with only Allegra’s simpering voice would have been unbearable.

Interestingly, at some point, the words “VR series” have been added to a few of the game’s marketing images, so perhaps there are more $10, 90-minute episodes to come? Who knows? Can they make us care?

I’m tired of monkeying around

Despite appearing to have been made with good intentions and high production values, Rhythm of the Universe: IONIA is a strong example of so much that a VR game shouldn’t be.

Its graphics and sound design are very polished, and the world-building, though muddled, has strengths. But interactions from the player feel pointless, a segue between story elements that the developers are interested in, rather than the true core of a game.

The whole experience is burdened by an apparent need to deliver as much backstory and lore as possible, and, as a result, it’s often disjointed and confusing. Worse still, despite so much time given to this aspect, come the denouement we’re introduced to some pretty fundamental new concepts that, until that moment, have somehow gone entirely unmentioned.

In its defence, ‘for all ages’ is often another way of saying ‘Y’know? For kids!’ and Ionia may serve as a decent gateway VR experience for younger players. However, I’m not in that audience, so I can’t tell you if Allegra’s Children ‘s-TV-Presenter delivery would be as annoying for them as it was for me. I don’t know if linear sequences during which you’re transported through the world on some beast or device would offer them as little entertainment as it did me.

Certainly, Robert (son of the late Steve) Irwin’s flat-screen video message that appears just before the credits (yes, really) sounds like it’s addressed to a group of 4th graders on a field trip, so this might be the game’s actual audience. But, if that is the case, the developers and publishers need to be far more honest about it upfront. 

Book-ended by this bizarre message and the game’s own trailer that serves as an intro-movie (also presented ‘theatre style’), it’s easy to see Rhythm of the Universe – Ionia as a distraction at the zoo or theme park. It’s just as easy to imagine it lying forgotten and unused.

For my sins, I spent over a decade in the hospitality industry. Among the cavalcade of mind-numbing servitude which marked my time, my stint as a pizza chef/grill cook was among my favourites periods.

Call me a weirdo, but there is a particular zen that can be found somewhere within the chaos of a busy commercial kitchen. Almost achieving flow state, there’s a rhythm that becomes hypnotic, right up until it gets too hot or you are reminded of the fact that the general dining public is made up of monsters. 

Now, thanks to FlatHill Games‘ Clash of Chefs, you too can experience the zen-like mastery of the culinary arts, all without the heat, the annoying customers or the ever so slightly unhinged Head Chef throwing plates across the kitchen. 

Although, to be fair, that last part would actually be pretty cool in a game. 

Out of the Frying Pan and onto the Quest

The little story at the beginning of this review wasn’t intended as a self-serving getting-to-know-you session for yours truly, but rather give context to the tone of this review. I am a big fan of cooking games and have been eagerly awaiting Clash of Chefs. It’s a genre that fails to resonate with a LOT of gamers, but for a certain few, there is a joy to be found that rivals a good rhythm game. That said, I am aware that time management games are a niche proposition, so I’ll try to be as objective as possible…

Clash of Chefs VR is as straightforward in its concept as a cooking game can be. The player embodies a floating set of hands positioned in a busy kitchen, surrounded by all the ingredients and equipment needed to create a range of meals and side dishes. As customers enter your restaurant, orders will appear on your display, introducing new dishes and components as the pace and complexity increase. The longer it takes you to complete an order, the lower your score, so advance preparation is key. However, leave a dish out for too long, and it will spoil or go cold, and you’ll have to start all over again.

There are four different kitchens for you to master, which will see you pumping out anything from a burger and fries to sushi and green tea. Each kitchen has its own set of mechanics, which require the player to settle into a different rhythm and give some much-needed variety to the gameplay. Grills need to be managed, salad items need to be chopped, and drinks must be poured. No individual task will trip you up with its complexity, but the challenge comes from balancing all tasks without slowing down.

Some of the later cuisines feel less designed around engaging mechanics and motions and more around padding the gameplay out a little. Things become less about cooking and more about stacking, which was my main complaint with the much-praised Cook-Out. In the end, the American kitchen is the only one that feels properly balanced, leaving the other cuisines feeling slightly undercooked.  

Bon Appetite

Clash of Chefs manages the basics of a cooking game very well. The layout of the kitchen makes sense, with everything feeling accessible and intuitive. The orders appear on screen in a clearly identifiable way which means that even when working quickly, it’s easy to distinguish the needed components. Grabbing and placing items feels just as it should, which is one of the most challenging aspects of the genre and is definitely a strong point in Clash of Chefs. Although I experienced one or two minimal issues, generally, you never have to worry about grabbing the wrong item or missing altogether, which allows you to play confidently at speed. 

The most noteworthy exception to this rule is the American kitchen fries, which caused me constant problems. Grab the handle slightly wrong, and the basket would reset in the fryer, making you slow down and grab again. Even worse is when you slightly misalign the basket and watch helplessly as your golden chunks of potato-y goodness disappear into an inexplicable void, giving you just enough time to stifle some profanity or another before starting again. 

While Clash of Chefs delivers the basics admirably, it, unfortunately, doesn’t bring much else to the table. While the genre is small, it is well enough developed that one could reasonably wish that the developers had infused their base mechanics with a little more creativity and flair. Games like All Hail the Cook-o-Tron introduce Boss Fights where your opponent can interfere with your kitchen by way of sabotaging your equipment or (my favourite) turning off your gravity so that your ingredients float all over the place. The outstanding Rags to Dishes offers an upgrade path for your equipment, allowing you to streamline your workflow and reduce the more annoying manual components. 

Sure, Clash of Chefs delivers the best fundamentals that the Quest has seen, but it doesn’t come even close to pushing the genre forward in any way. As in actual cooking, seasoning the basics with something unexpected and original can decide between good and great.

Order Up!

Clash of Chefs is not exactly visually spectacular, but it doesn’t really need to be. Each restaurant is delivered in a clear, cartoon-like fashion that is entirely functional but not quite breath-taking. The most important graphical element in any cooking game is how easily the visual language can be disseminated while moving at speed, and Clash of Chefs does that very well.

The combinations of ingredients required for any given order are clearly understood, as are the visual cues telling you if a component is ready, burnt, or spoiled. The only caveats to this functionally are a few minor animations that are a little jarring. Particularly noticeable is when ladles reset themselves and seem to skip a frame or two to find their way back to their appropriate resting place. 

Much like the simple cheeseburgers you’ll spend your time making, the graphics won’t blow your mind, but they get the job done.

The audio is, unfortunately, far more underwhelming, and serviceable feels a little generous here. There are auditory cues to indicate when certain components are complete or when a new order comes in. While they are helpful, they lack any real sense of character and are so innocuous that they often don’t register as you play.

The ambient music is broadly stereotyped towards the particular ethnic theme of the restaurant but does little to add tension or atmosphere, and there is a real missed opportunity here. Part of the thrill of the kitchen is the buzz; the sounds of a busy restaurant as diners, serving staff, sizzling grills and background music all compete for dominance. It’s an environment that should naturally lend itself to an exciting, atmospheric soundscape, and sadly the half-baked soundscape of Clash of Chefs does very little to urge you towards faster times and bigger scores.  

Back for Seconds

Clash of Chefs is a challenging game for which to gauge longevity. With four unique cuisines to master, each consisting of 20 levels of increasing difficulty, it’s fair to say that there’s some meat on the bones here. Each restaurant can be conquered in about an hour, so assuming you only play through the campaign, you have at least 3-4 hours on the plate right from the first course.

But, if, like myself, you find yourself particularly enjoying your time in Clash, then there is a lot more time on offer. With an endless mode that allows you to zone out and push out orders as long as you can and tantalising leader boards to tempt you back for seconds, there are hours of fun to be had here. 

That is, of course, if time management is your thing. If not, this game will just remind you of your worst part-time job in high school, and the whole affair will be over in short order. 

Clash of Chefs also launches with a PvP multiplayer mode which, for many, will be the icing on the proverbial cake. Chefs will battle in real-time to see who can speed through their orders the fastest, and although I was not able to get in a game during my pre-release access, I am looking forward to my first culinary showdown as the game goes live.

While the ability to compete with other chefs or with ghost runs of the leader boards top scorers is an excellent addition, I can’t help but feel that a trick is being missed here. One of the best elements of PvP gaming is the ability to directly impact your opponent, and this mode is just crying out for something a little more innovative than simply being the fastest. 

To date, no cooking game has integrated a truly combative culinary experience, and I fear that the current format will leave players hungry for more. 

Can I offer You a Digestive?

Clash of Chefs is an excellent addition to the Quest library insofar as it delivers the most intuitive and accessible cooking experience on the platform to date. For enthusiasts of the genre, it will fill a hole in the library that has been missing for some time and will undoubtedly become the gameplay equivalent of comfort food for many.

However, despite delivering all the essential elements of the genre admirably, Clash of Chefs misses the subtle nuance that this niche is capable of that could have seen it elevated from digital fast food to something extraordinary. With just a bit more innovation and attention to unique, rewarding mechanics, FlatHill Games could have earned their Michelin Star. Sadly, like most fast food, Clash of Chefs was tasty but left me hungry for more.

When I first played Ven, I’d only played Astro Bot Rescue Mission and had never played Lucky’s Tale. In fact, I hadn’t even heard about it until I saw many beta-testers compare the two on Ven VR Adventure‘s Discord server. So for this review, I went ahead and tried out Lucky’s Tale, too, so that I wouldn’t only be comparing Ven to something with the monumental production heft of Japan Studio’s Team Asobi.

Just the Facts, Ven

Ven VR Adventure‘s gameplay offers pretty much what you’d expect. You’re on a mission to save the known universe from a villain whose motivation to conquer and destroy is undoubtedly driven by the fact that his name is Bruce Nelson. Why Bruce Nelson? I don’t know, but that’s his name. You do this by platforming the titular character, Ven, across twelve levels. There’s not much in the gameplay department that veers from the normal expectations of the genre; you can jump, you can double jump, you can smash drop on enemies, you have a basic attack, and there are little Ven-like critters placed in sometimes hard-to-reach places that you’re supposed to collect. Rather than the traditional gold coins employed in Super Mario or Astro Bot or Lucky’s Tale, you collect runes, and for every one hundred runes you collect, the game generously gives you one extra life. 

Now and Ven

It’s not easy being a 3D platformer in VR. Unlike First Person games like Beat Saber or Pistol Whip or First Person Platformers like STRIDE, there’s nothing about the standard 3D platformers that screams “Put me in VR, Dammit!” I mean, sure, there’s the sheer novelty of having it in VR, but for a third-person platformer to impress in VR, it has to be, well, quite impressive. So let’s talk about what Ven does right, shall we? 

Ven VR Adventure has outstanding graphics for a Quest title and unsurprisingly weighs in at almost eight gigabytes. One can only imagine the immense effort involved in putting together these levels, all the more impressive when you realize that Ven’s development team consists of eight people. So here we go; great environmental graphics, good animations, a cute main character, cute collectible characters, and a lot of effort. 

If only it all came together the way it could have. 

What’s Wrong, Ven?

Disappointingly, Ven is let down by several issues that detract from the experience it could have been…

The in-game camera follows Ven at a short distance, but only along the Z-Axis, going into the screen. No matter how far up or down, or how far to the left or right Ven goes, you’re still observing Ven from the center of the playing area. When he’s far, he’s tiny. When he’s high, you might not see him because the camera might be under the platform he’s on. When he’s low, you have to tilt your neck down to see him from an almost bird’s eye view. Worse yet, the camera won’t backtrack until Ven is moved quite a way behind it, meaning that sometimes you can move Ven behind the camera, making him invisible. Ven is supposed to be a game you play seated, but you’ll often find yourself twisting your neck backward to see Ven while you’re playing. The camera in Lucky’s Tale is far better behaved, and I wish the developers had taken their cues from that game or, at least, listened to the beta-testers who suggested more camera options.

Ven VR Adventure‘s audio does not impress. It feels uneven and, at times, almost unfinished. Too many things happen for which there is no accompanying audio effect. When rotating razor blades are flying your way, it’s odd to see them do so in almost complete silence. It’s strange to see large stone traps hammering in silence and then stranger yet to hear one of them make an appropriately loud sound. When Ven hits a lethal object, you see a concentric splash of particles, but that effect makes no sound. None at all. Amid all these graphical flourishes and contraptions, when Ven dies, it’s as though the game were set in space, where, as the line goes, “no one can hear you scream.” This lack of audio f/x was, admittedly, worse in the beta, but that it remains in the final release is inexcusable. Unless its absence is purposeful, some sort of sound should accompany anything that happens in a video game.

Ven, Are You There?

Although the environments in Ven VR Adventure are pretty, they are painfully inert. In Lucky’s Tale, as in Astro Bot Rescue Mission, almost everything in the environment reacts to your character’s actions. In Lucky’s Tale, dandelions seed heads will break apart if you hit them and float all around you. In Astro Bot, plants react to your presence, waves fluttering as you walk past them; everything feels alive. These games also justify their existence as VR titles by making the player interact with the environment to benefit the game’s character. In Lucky’s Tale, you use your head tracking to aim at targets. In Astro Bot, you blow on your controller to activate things and can stretch ropes between the environment and your controller, allowing Astro to trampoline across them. In Moss, also on Quest, the player moves platforms to allow the titular character to jump onto them. 

Ven sorely lacks interactivity between the player and the game world. The closest it gets is during a boss battle that has you throwing grenades and through a remarkably ill-conceived segment that very poorly and unnecessarily rips off one of the most popular VR games around. How that segment even made it to the release build is a mystery. It feels like something cobbled together in a drunken stupor one ill-fated night, and that should’ve been met with a sober stare and promptly removed the very next morning as everybody joked about how hammered they must’ve been to think it might have been a good idea. But no, it’s there – It’s in the game. It stayed. Not only is this segment horribly done, but it’s also pretty difficult, and I’m a guy who’s pretty good at the game it rips off. I can easily imagine more casual players getting stuck on that section, doomed to repeatedly play a lousy knock-off of a game they probably already own while hoping to get back to the actual platforming. 

Finally, Ven VR Adventure doesn’t feel consistent with its game logic. You could jump onto what appears to be an innocuous-looking pipe, only to find out that touching it kills you. Meanwhile, a huge rocky palm will just push you but not kill you. Why? I don’t know. Maybe rocks are gentle. The point is, the logic isn’t consistent. So rather than learning the basic rules of Ven within the first level or two and then figuring things out based on that logic, you’ll find yourself trial-and-erroring your way throughout the campaign. This randomness makes Ven feel amateurish and sloppy and perhaps explains why at some point in the game, I realized I’d collected around 62 lives. I can only wonder whether lives are so plentiful out of some misplaced balance-breaking generosity or because the developers realized you’d be losing lots of them to camera issues and inconsistent game logic.

Things don’t get any better when you reach the end and realize that the final boss battle has the worst and most random collision detection I’ve encountered in recent history. I kid you not.

What Now, Ven?

Ven VR Adventure reminds me of two really hard-working students I once had in an improvisational acting class I once taught. They lacked a gift for improvisation and performance, but they tried so damn hard that I desperately wanted to see them succeed. Ven gives you all the graphics it can muster. It gives you all the levels it can put together. If it had a kitchen sink, it would have thrown that at you as well. Unfortunately, the issues with the game detract from the overall experience. 

There’s still some pleasure to be found in Ven, and if you’re scrounging for a native Quest platformer, it might scratch your itch. You’ll certainly be pleased with the graphics, and the fact that the game provides twelve levels across three regions will probably make you feel that you got your money’s worth. The real problem is that despite initially coming off as a polished title, with a great into featuring polished graphics and impressive spatial audio, the illusion quickly falls apart when you get to the meat of the game.

This Ven is No Diesel

Despite all the work put into it, Ven emerges as a game that works hard rather than smart. It offers a lot but can’t keep from sabotaging itself at almost every step. It might get a lot better if future updates resolve the camera issues, improve the audio experience, and even out some of the gameplay quirks. As it stands, however, Ven VR Adventure is its own worst enemy, turning a potentially great game into a mediocre slog through pretty places.

Now, almost 30 years later, the team from Happy Giant are bringing back the dog with the hat and the naked rabbit for their first foray into Virtual Reality. Will they successfully slap the stupid grin off the face of evil or fall victim to yet another oversized novelty exploding head? Come on, Lumpy, let’s find out… 

Hitting the Road, again

I was, and to a degree, I still am a massive fan of the original 1993 Sam & Max game. I was about 12 years old when I first played it. I remember laughing hysterically, painstakingly working my way through the puzzles, and having a great time. This is a particularly relevant point to make at the start of this review because I believe it speaks volumes about the game’s target demographic.

As a weathered 41-year-old, this iteration of Sam & Max seems out of balance with my fond memories of these characters. I mean, yes, I’m swimming in nostalgia, but the pool feels very shallow, and there’s something slightly alarming floating in the deep end. That said, for a new generation of players, this game could well be just as engaging as the original was for me. 

Well, maybe…

Sam & Max: This time It’s Virtual sees the player embody the voiceless “Lumpy”, a new recruit press-ganged into joining the zany world of the Freelance Police. After a brief tutorial that acclimates you to the various game mechanics and the game’s sense of humour, you begin your journey to complete the Freelance Police training course. In terms of plot, this sees you head over to an abandoned amusement park. From a gameplay perspective, this park serves as the springboard for the many single-player mini-games at the games’ core.

It’s dej avu all over again

The game is broken into three chapters, each containing at least one obstacle course and two other sideshow attractions. These include activities ranging from diffusing comedic bombs to a bizarre game of baseball where you attempt to hit gravity-defying soda cans. There’s even a clever little puzzle-based escape room. These mini-games try to showcase a decent variety of mechanics but lack originality and are, for the most part, short, simple, and sadly underwhelming by modern standards. 

There are shooting gallery type affairs, but the aim feels off, and the targets aren’t engaging. There’s climbing, but there’s no actual technique and getting over the top almost always feels janky. There are throwing games, which are actually some of the best, but they still don’t feel anywhere near as good as other, more focused games. The only elements that really land are the puzzles, which seem to take their cues from the original game. They are light, both in their demands and their tone, and fit the game well. These were the parts that made me feel like I was reliving some great Sam & Max moments. Had Happy Giant focused on these elements rather than their sideshow attractions, things may have fared slightly better.

Between chapters, some basic narrative levels require you to perform specific tasks to progress the main plotline. These elements seem almost more like a confused attempt at an interactive comic than an actual game. I struggled to see them as anything more than a ham-fisted attempt to indulge in a little more dialogue. Again, while encased within the wit and banter of the Sam & Max IP, it’s broadly bearable. Still, if the exact same game came out without the IP and the charm to back it up, I doubt even the newest newb or the youngest youngster would find themselves hurrying to dive back in. 

It’s dej avu all over again

Visually Sam & Max: This Time It’s Virtual hits all the right notes. It is crisp and cartoony, making it easy to suspend disbelief and immerse yourself into the comical folly of the Sam & Max universe. The clean, simple visual style and low-impact gameplay mean that everything renders nicely and frame rates are silky smooth. The only notable exception to this is a single street scene in which littered newspapers render as you walk around. It’s distracting but far from game-breaking.

The sound is fantastic, carried mainly by the tremendous character performances of David Boat and David Nowlin, who expertly deliver the titular characters. The remaining performances are also admirable, keeping pace and tone with both the game, the canon and the lead performers. The rest of the sound design is equally well directed, with every auditory component feeling appropriate and compelling.

Well, that is except for one particular puzzle, which sees a certain song play on repeat for the duration of the time it takes you to figure out. I got stumped for about five minutes, and that song made me want to hurl my headset out the window. But other than that, everything in this department is as it should be.

Is that a naked rabbit driving a Desoto!?!?

By this stage in the review, I have made my peace with the fact that Sam & Max: This Time It’s Virtual has forsaken me and focused on offering the same pleasures of my youth to the next generation. In fact, in an environment where young children are accessing technology beyond their years, I applaud the existence of some funny, wholesome content for them to enjoy. What I don’t understand is Happy Giant’s decision to completely exclude the parents.

The lack of multiplayer options in Sam & Max is a missed opportunity that unforgivably holds the game back from living up to its (albeit stunted) potential. With a focus on quick, quirky mini-games ensconced within lavish amounts of family-friendly humour, the ability to pass the headset back and forth could have bridged the generation gap while injecting some much-needed relevance into the franchise. In fact, the inclusion of some sort of asymmetric multiplayer mode could have been an outstanding addition for a game like this. 

There must be countless other middle-aged nerds like me who would love to share the games of their youth with their kids. Approaching Sam & Max as a party game could have been just the right way to do that. Happy Giant had the recipe for a blend of nostalgia and whimsical adventure that could have made for some perfect family fun. Unfortunately, what Sam & Max actually delivers is all of the peripheral components of a great party game, with the glaring exception of one critical thing; the actual party.

Played as it is, Sam & Max: This Time It’s Virtual will be a relatively short-lived affair. Even after getting stuck on one puzzle for quite some time, I was able to complete a run through everything in about four hours. Despite being able to go back into any of the mini-games to better my scores, I have little desire to do so.

Way to take the short view, little buddy

Sam & Max: This Time It’s Virtual is a quirky, light-hearted attempt to fuse a series of mini-games into a cohesive experience using broad narrative devices. It successfully delivers the bizarrely entertaining banter that made the original game a success but fails almost entirely at capturing the same magic in the gameplay.

Although some entertaining elements of the classic adventure puzzler are found, these are woefully underrepresented. Rather than a clever, irreverent puzzler like the original, Sam & Max offers a cavalcade of disappointingly executed single-player mini-games. It’s a game clearly intended for younger audiences. While it gets points for the puzzle levels and the charm of the titular characters, the rest of the game showcases how to do many things in VR in a very average way.

Surely, all this would make for a thrilling VR game, one might think.

One would, unfortunately, be tragically, heartbreakingly, wrong.

Me Tarzan, You Jane

Remember the horrible prehistoric decades of cheap film-tie-in video games when for every action movie released, a terrible cash-in video game came along? It wasn’t just movie tie-ins, of course. Any IP famous enough suffered the same fate; reliance on the franchise to sell the game to unsuspecting children, incompetent mechanics, sloppy gameplay, and graphics that were at least one or two generations behind.

This, I’m afraid to say, is that.

My Mother Was An Ape

Tarzan VR promises many things. It promises that you’ll play as the titular character. It promises that you’ll swing on vines, swim, climb trees, and fight your way through three episodes of the game.

This is all true; you get to do all those things, but what the marketing doesn’t tell you is that no matter which of those things you’re doing, you’ll hate it. You’ll hate it so much that it’s borderline inconceivable that you’ll want to suffer through three episodes of this dreck.

Me Tarzan, Am Telekinetic

The gameplay in Tarzan VR is simple and boring. You move with the left thumbstick, and you turn physically or with the right thumbstick. You can sprint by moving your arms in a swinging motion as though you were running. You are given one weapon per episode, which you can tuck away by clicking the B button.

Swinging across vines is, depressingly, a hit-and-miss affair and can be incredibly frustrating, so much so that I almost abandoned the game at some point because of it. You see, you don’t jump to catch a vine, but click the grab button when you’re close enough to it, at which point it magically stretches towards you, you grab it, and your swinging begins. To catch the next vine, you reach with your other hand and click the grab button again, but the grab action only works when the other vine is close enough, or when some random part of its length is close enough, or when Tarzan VR, in its infinite wisdom decides to make the other vine grab-able. It’s sometimes so finicky that you’ll be swinging idiotically for almost a minute, hoping that the engine might allow you to grab the next damn vine.

Your enemies are mostly copy-paste men dressed in military costumes, and they have all the AI of an old brick. Some of the smarter ones will rush towards you much as you’d imagine a brick on wheels might. However, most will just conveniently stand next to an exploding barrel. You can blow up such barrels with your slingshot because, apparently, metal barrels explode when you throw rocks at them. Bad guys you don’t blow up can be pummeled with your fists. Oh, and you replenish your health by eating bananas and coconuts.

You’re given one unique weapon per episode. In the first episode, it’s an axe. In the second it’s the slingshot, in the third, it’s a long bow. You don’t accumulate the weapons, though, so you can’t use the axe in the second episode, for instance. This makes the ‘mini-boss’ fights unnecessarily difficult, since the slingshot only stuns enemies but doesn’t actually cause any noticeable damage. Still, you can lure the enemies close to a barrel, stun them there, and then blow it up after you gain some distance.

Kala Became Sad

When Tarzan starts, the first thing you notice is the graphics; they’re poor and flat. Rather than being realistic or stylized, the art style is perfectly happy to settle for what I can only refer to as ‘meh.’ They’re supposed to look cartoony, but they’re not as good as those in, for example, Jurassic World Aftermath or Yupitergrad.

The few exceptions to the incredibly dreary gameplay graphics are the Tarzan comic book pages that float towards you when the game first starts. They give a nice pulpy feel to the intro and the mistaken impression that Tarzan VR might hold some promise. Unfortunately, all such hopes are quickly dissipated. The graphics are disappointing, the animations are depressing, and the level design is linear and amateurish. Everything just feels like it’s the end result of a discount Learn To Code weekend workshop attended by somebody who didn’t want to be there.

There are so many ways Tarzan VR could have been better.

The swinging mechanics could have been vastly improved by having Tarzan jump to the vines, and then be able to jump between them to get closer to the next one. Haptic feedback could have been used to make both the swinging and the weapons feel more tactile. The enemy AI could have been improved so it doesn’t just consist of ‘shoot at Tarzan’ or ‘run towards Tarzan’. Weapons could have been accumulated across episodes rather than replaced. The graphics could be far better, both in terms of their polygonal level of detail and in terms of their textures.

The closest I got to actually enjoying Tarzan VR was when I got a chance to recruit a lion, who then ran along with me for a while, and took down some of the enemies, but again, rather than feel that you’re fighting alongside a majestic king of the jungle, the lion was so poorly rendered that it felt like an emaciated beast in dire need of nutrition. This sequence was a good idea and should have felt glorious, but it failed to deliver the graphics, animations, and sound required to carry it through.

Tarzan VR‘s highlight is the licensed audio, but you don’t need VR or a game purchase to hear some nostalgic ululating or voice clips. You can get those on YouTube without suffering through this tedious excuse for a game.

Tarzan Vee Er…

Here’s a little confession. As I write this review, I’ve not finished Tarzan VR. Instead, I have played two-thirds of the game at substantial mental and spiritual cost, finishing Episodes 1 and 2. Of course, there might be some alternate world out there in which some genius game designer god is messing with us. Maybe this sadistic monster of a god has crafted an incredible VR masterpiece and chose to hide it within the third episode of a game that does its absolute best to dissuade you from finishing it. If so, then I’m sorry, dear reader, but that’s a risk to my integrity that I’m happily willing to take. There’s only so much punishment I can take for your sake, and my limit has been reached.

As it stands, I’d sooner stand next to an exploding barrel and slingshot myself to an early grave than continue this particular jungle adventure. This is a game I cannot recommend to anybody, even to die-hard fans of old Lord Greystoke. Who knows? Maybe one day we’ll get a good VR version of Pitfall, but for now, there are many, far better, Quest games you can play.

Traffic Jams comes to Quest bringing cars, buses, pedestrians, comets, and shattering glass together as you try to orchestrate traffic in various international cities. 

The game starts you off with a quick tutorial, and the controls are intuitive and straightforward. You use one hand to point at people or vehicles, and your other hand either waves them faster or palms them to stop. You can pick up odd items with your grip button, some to just play with, but others give you power-ups. You can play it standing up or sitting down. 

Baby Driver

Here I am, juggling traffic as best I can, two cars careening into their corners, a bus driver brimming with impatience, a damn bi-plane hoping to taxi off a street, and I hear a loud boom, and there’s a GIANT COMET IN THE SKY. I point at it, gesture it to stop, and it stops…

Well, for a while, at least, reacting as human drivers do when they get too impatient, it moves again and crashes a whole side of the street, surrounding the entire place with a cloud of smoke. 

God Bless VR. 

Where is Rome?

The game features Gouda, Paris, Amsterdam, Tokyo, and New York. You get a Day Mission, A Night Mission, and a Rush Hour mission for each of these. Once unlocked, these mission types appear on tabs attached to each city’s folder. The game’s difficulty is well-paced, and opening a map doesn’t always mean you’re ready to take it on. Aside from directing traffic, the game throws distractions at you; mosquitos that you have to swat away, aliens that you have to get run over or punch, and, well..comets.

Ninety Miles an Hour

The graphical vibe in Traffic Jams is perfect for this kind of arcade-like experience. The levels are colorful; they go from three-road intersections to four-road intersections to the fare more challenging five-roaders in the last levels. 

Traffic Jams‘ soundtrack is light in tone, keeping with the mood of the game. The audio effects are good, but the positional audio seems a bit underused, loud enough to draw your attention once a crash occurs, but often too drowned out in the general din of it all. 

If You Really Want A Challenge…

Like Acron: Attack of the Squirrels before it, Traffic Jams features asymmetrical multiplayer, and the VR player can play against up to four friends on mobile. Like Acron, Traffic Jams attempts to be a social and family game, a problematic premise in the days of Covid and Social Distancing. Like Acron, however, the four mobile players don’t need to be on the same wifi. Sure, the distance will introduce some lag, but the gameplay isn’t hurt much. Between the two, I found Traffic Jams’ VR experience more satisfying than Acron’s, but perhaps the opposite could be said of the mobile experience. The mobile players mostly pump triggers to unleash traffic and events; it’s not Fortnite. 

Oddly enough, this whole multiplayer facet is almost hidden within the game. The press materials mention it, which is the only reason I knew where to look, but Traffic Jams doesn’t go out of its way to introduce the feature in-game or show you where to find it. I couldn’t access it until I noticed a little ‘MP’ tab in each city’s folder.

Similarly, the game is supposed to feature online leaderboards. If you figure out how to reach those, please let me know.

Try Traffic in Cairo, Hotshot!

Traffic Jams is very close to the game it could be, but it’s held back by a few issues. The frame rate is choppy. I played the game on a Quest 2, and I could see the vehicles’ framerates dropping so severely that they were ghosting. I can’t imagine it’ll play any better on a Quest 1. The game also suffers from long loading times when starting a level or at the end of it. A rapid fix to make Traffic Jams immediately better would be to have a quick-loading retry/menu option at the end of each game. Again, I can’t imagine that this is any better on a Quest 1. 

The other problem is Dennis, your little interactive ‘buddy.’ Dennis is annoying. It doesn’t help that I still can’t tell whether this is due to his incessant gyrations or a voiceover so overdone as to sound like racist parody. Dennis is mainly there to be spotted or gestured at during missions to fulfill some achievements. He’s like a Where’s Waldo that you’re forced to play during the game to get achievements and provides a few cutscenes that you can replay later if you’re a complete sadomasochist. 

I don’t like Dennis. 

Easy Rider

Despite some technical and UI design issues, Traffic Jams is an easy game to recommend and a great new addition to the Quest library. It’s got a fun premise and a light-hearted execution that challenges the player along a well-paced difficulty curve.