5. Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown

If you speak to anyone who knows my gaming habits well, you’ll quickly realise that 2024’s GOTY list is a little unusual for me - because it only has one Metroidvania (or the term growing in popularity - “search-action" game") on it! I’m almost never happier than when I’m sinking my teeth into a side-scrolling map with satisfying combat. Games like Hollow Knight and Blasphemous were what ignited my love for the indie game scene. Enter, Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown. Beware reader, as this tale does not have a happy ending.

I do have a relationship with this series; I have vivid memories of playing The Sands of Time as a 12 year old PS2 gamer, and spent hours upon hours pouring over it’s edgelord sequel, Warrior Within, gaming magazine cheats & tips book in hand. I remember the bad times; the Jake Gyllenhaal movie, I remember The Two Thrones and I remember PS3’s Prince of Persia. This is a series of games that I’ve loved at times, and at others, pretended not to recognise like bumping into a friend I’m not speaking to at a bar.

So when I heard we were getting a new Prince of Persia and that it was a metroidvania, I was cautiously optimistic. Furthermore, games journalists I respected really seemed to like it. So, I overcame the hurdle that most people had with this game, bit my tongue and paid £39.99 for it. This is, in my opinion, one of the first nails in the coffin for this attempt at a new line of PoP games. Ubisoft designed a game that is recognisably, through gameplay and visuals, a high-end indie game, and then slapped it with a AA/AAA pricepoint. I love indie games but I will also rarely pop more than £24.99 on one - and you’ll probably notice that from the games I’ve listed so far. This game was more expensive than Helldivers 2! 

The game reviewed well - Kotaku called it an “exceptional Metroidvania that’s as accessible as it is punishing”. Eurogamer - “a metroidvania so beautifully put together it almost feels like a Plantonic example of the form” (I agree with this wholeheartedly). So why does it feel like, as Polygon puts it - Ubisoft sent it out to die? The game was launched and (in my opinion), marketed, as a game for indie enthusiasts, but at an AA price point, in the middle of January, and didn’t have a concurrent Steam launch. Despite critical acclaim, Ubisoft claim the game underperformed in terms of sales and have subsequently disbanded the development studio, despite the fact the studio approached Ubisoft about a sequel.

Now, some would say that this reflects Ubisofts mismanagement of a valuable and well-reviewed product. I would be one of those people. So instead of allowing a team who have proven they can work together continue to work on further projects, they’ve been disbanded and moved to other games within Ubisoft. It just continues to contribute to the picture that Ubisoft really don’t know what they’re doing.

So, let me try to sell you on The Lost Crown. The game moves away from previous 3D platforming exploration for which the genre is known to a 2.5 metroidvania approach, as we take control of Sargon, a young solider (who is interestingly, not the Prince of Persia) who fights as part of an elite group of warriors known as The Immortals.

The Immortals are tasked with ensuring the recovery of the actual Prince of Persia, Prince Ghassan, who has been kidnapped. Our heroes catch up to him at the mysterious Mount Qaf, and things quickly descend from there. You see, Mount Qaf is sick. Timesick. Sargon and his compatriots are quickly separated from one another across space and time, and our protagonist must reunite with his friends and save the prince, gaining new combat and traversal abilities along the way, which are often time-themed, as you can imagine from a game whose most memorable title is named Sands of Time. And you need that moveset. Compared to previous entries in this series, the combat is punishing. Interactions with regular enemies, if taken lightly or timed poorly, have every change of ending your progression and sending you back to your last checkpoint, in a way I’m more used to seeing in a Souls game (shut up I’m aware that’s an incredibly lazy comparison in the year of our lord 2024).

My strongest memory of time powers in this series is the ability to reverse a screw up. A poorly executed jump left you impaled on spikes? Nevermind, “no no no, that’s not what happened” - just rewind! In The Lost Crown the focus is using these abilities for platforming and traversal, and I won’t spoil it, but the abilities you gain as the game proceeds are much more interesting than a double jump and air dash (though of course, those are present, this is a metroidvania, after all).

Both exploration and combat are challenging but rewarding (and I must emphasise, just really fantastic), with occasional optional challenge areas thrown in. You unlock a variety of combat abilities including “ultimate” attacks locked behind a gauge that builds as you fight, dodge and parry. Combat can be somewhat tailored to your own style through a choice of equipable ultimates as well as a charm system akin to Hollow Knights. Some of the metroidvania platforming is some of the most rewarding and challenging I’ve played for years due to the games clever design and use of interesting powers. I also swear to God that in the final battle, as far as I’m concerned, you briefly gain All For One from My Hero Academia.

The game moves beyond metroidvanias of recent years which allow you to dot your expansive map with symbols where you’d like to revisit and gives you the ability to attach screenshots to various parts of the map to remind you why you wanted to return there in the first place, which is a nice quality of life touch. The accessibility options are also pretty decent, but I’ll let Laura Dale speak on that specifically over at her review site, Access-ability.

My only gripe with the game at time of launch (beyond the price point) was the lack of a reasonable fast track system. It did exist, but was limited to a handful of statues scattered sparsely across the map. The map is huge and feels incredible to traverse as you gain more abilities - (this game has real hero-cool factor - it feels amazing just to run around and take on basic enemies) - but God did I run around that map. I’ve since heard that there has been a patched in ability or charm that lets you teleport from the games in-universe version of the Souls series bonfires - Wak-wak trees, which would have addressed this issue for me.

Overall this is a wonderful game that should have been the start of a new series which has been let down by Ubisoft. If you can, absolutely pick it up in one of Ubisofts frequent sales. Hopefully accolades at GOTY season will make Ubisoft reconsider their hasty mismanagement of the talented team behind this stellar game.

4. Metaphor ReFantazio

Right okay so hear me out. Metaphor ReFantazio, the newest 100-odd hour role playing game from industry giant Atlus would / could / possibly will be higher on my list than number 4. I just haven’t had the time to put into it that I would like to, but I know for a fact from what I have played that it should be at least number 4.

Even if you haven’t heard of Atlus the same way you would Insomniac or Gamefreak, you will likely be familiar with their popular Persona series of role playing games, where players assume the role of a high-schooler protagonist, usually living a double life of everyday teen life as well as supernatural adventures. High school as a setting doesn’t appeal to everyone - and players frequently find their 100+ hour length intimidating at best or a reason to not play them at all at worst. I have reasonable experience of the Persona series, and even I find approaching a new one intimidating. My first experience was buying a PSVita just to play Persona 4: Golden and going on to fully immerse myself in Persona 5 - which went on to become one of my top games of all time.

With this in mind, Atlus have brought something new to the table. Sort of. Metaphor ReFantazio is a similarly long role playing game set in a high fantasy world of Atlus’ creation. Our protagonist has set out on a quest with only his fairy companion Gallica, searching for a cure to awaken the nation’s prince from a cursed slumber. Except, within minutes of the game opening the stakes rapidly escalate. The King is murdered in his sleep by a rival noble seeking power. The general public know nothing of the prince’s cursed slumber, and think him many years dead. Oh and did I mention that the kingdom is under growing threat of abhorrent monsters called Humans?

Like the Persona series, our hero must gather a group of trusted confidants who will awaken magical powers to level the odds against the powerful foes that stand in their way. Whilst this isn’t Persona 6, the crucial aspects from Atlus’ previous successes are on show here, and our heroes rapidly awaken their Persona Archetype powers - the crystalisations of the different aspects of historic heroes. Which is uh, a magical power you activate that our characters wear as almost mech suits to access magical abilities. These are then strengthened by spending time with these friends and confidants outside of combat to advance their own personal plot.

Do you see how that’s clearly different from a Persona? Good. Yes there’s a place where you go to manage your Archetypes that takes the place of the Velvet Room, and yes, there’s a chap who’s Igor but if Igor was a hot elfin man with horns.

Reader, I don’t even know why I’m writing as if any of this makes me unhappy, because I am still an utter sucker for this stuff. The first time I awoke a companion’s powers, he ripped a mechanical heart out of his chest and spoke into like a microphone before awakening his wargreymon looking Archetype. Atlus isn’t known to be subtle with this stuff - Persona 5 saw our characters rip off their literal “mask” of their everyday persona to access their powers, and this isn’t any different. But when Strohl did that thing with the heart? Reader, I was hooting and hollering.

There are also multiple quality of life changes to game mechanics and I’ve yet to find one that isn’t welcome. Compared to previous Atlus RPG’s - where only the protagonist could change powers and other characters were locked to their starter Persona, Metaphor allows you to change characters role almost at will (there is a small cost of in-universe currency to unlock these roles but it isn’t prohibitive) - allowing for much higher degrees of customisation than in previous games. Similarly there is a game overworld where you can begin fights with enemies like “shadows” in previous Persona titles - though one huge change is that once you are a good few levels above enemies you can just bonk them with your equipped weapon in the overworld if you choose rather than entering into turn based combat with them.

The story, as mentioned, is one of royal intrigue. Without going too deep into spoilers, the main thrust of the game is that the dead king left behind magic which would force the nation into a democratic election to appoint their next monarch. This magic doesn’t require the public to vote - it sees directly into their souls to see who they want to be king. Those who the public favour most appear on a massive rock in the sky in the capital in a sort of horrific Majora’s Mask scenario. Our heroes, in an attempt to stop the regiciding noble from becoming the next king, enter themselves into the contest in an attempt to find a way to reverse the prince’s cursed slumber to instead put him on the throne. Adventure ensues.

It is also a game about prejudice. This is a world of various peoples, from the horned Clemar, who are the most populous of the land, to the dog-like Paripus, to the Elda tribe, whom to our eyes as the player, look like normal humans. But boy, do the tribes hate each other. Although this is obviously a multicultural society, prejudice is rife, and everyone hates the Elda tribe, of which our main character is a member. Several times walking around the capital, people will all but call me a piece of shit, and even children will shout that I’m bad luck and that I’m probably why the king is dead. Meanwhile, our protagonist carries around a novel which depicts a “fantasy world” which is suspiciously similar to what we’d consider the real world, and it represents a magical world where everyone is equal and no-one ever faces prejudice. And wait, the true monsters in this game are actually called Humans? I think there might be some bigger themes here as the story progresses.

The combat is slick and enjoyable, and there’s plenty of social activities to do outside of combat through a day and night system to improve your Royal Virtues:

Oh and the music is incredible, and chanted in a language invented in 1887 to act as a universal human language. Notably, the menus are as stylish and flashy as fans of Persona will remember, though somewhat hilariously, Atlus seem to regret this particular iconic part of their brand now, as apparently designing all of the menus is “really annoying”.

Overall I’ve put about around 10-12 hours into Metaphor so far and completed the first main dungeon and completed a handful of side quests, making it out of the first main city hub. I’m slightly nervous about diving headfirst in, as these games are such a large undertaking, but they’ve never disappointed me before.

If you’d like to check out Metaphor ReFantazio, both consoles and Steam have a sizable demo available, with the game’s lengthy prologue and the first half of the first main dungeon available to you before you ever spend a penny. There’s also the option to continue with this save if you choose to buy the full game.

3. Astrobot

Here we are! The top 3! And I’ve only written around 7000 words! Aren’t you impressed? We’re on the home straight, so buckle up!

Astrobot was a really difficult game for me to place in my top ten, I think because I have quite complicated feelings about what Astrobot, the game, is. Is it one of the most lovingly crafted platformers in recent memory, or is it a cynical, corporate branding exercise? I think the answer is, that through (entirely my own conjecture) a push and pull between Team Asobi, the developer, and Sony/Playstation, probably both. It’s no surprise that Astrobot was released in the year of Playstation’s 30th anniversary.

At it’s best, Astrobot is one of the most joyful games I’ve played in years, as well as one of the most lovingly crafted platformers I’ve ever played. My first experience of Astro was in 2018’s lauded Astro Bot Rescue Mission for PSVR - where as the VR player you guide little Astro around a platforming world both controlling him and using a physical manifestation of your controller in the VR world to help him traverse different challenges, and it was a delight! Sony brought Team Asobi back for Astro’s Playroom, a tech demo installed in every PS5 to show off the capabilities of the Dualsense controller. The games revolve around controlling an adorable little robot called Astro to help him rescue and collect lots of other little adorable bots. It was probably my favourite PSVR game, not because it was challenging (I love a challenging game - I was sorely tempted to switch Prince of Persia and Astrobot around on this list) - but because it was just so damn competent and importantly, joyful.

It often feels that Sony doesn’t know what to do with the Playstation brand. They’ve never been able to really settle on a mascot - a skill that Nintendo are famous for. As soon as you read Nintendo you probably thought of Mario, Link or Pikachu. Who comes to mind for Sony? Crash Bandicoot? Lara Croft? More recently, Joel from TLOU? (I really had to take a second to remember his name), Kratos, or Nathan Drake? Apart from Crash, none of those are really for kids and whilst they are critical successes, I’m not sure any of them are purely joyful in a way brands like Nintendo are known for. And in comes Astro, with cause for optimism and concern.

Because this game is good. I mean, I couldn’t put it down good. As I blasted through its main campaign and every collectible (10-15 hours of gameplay) and roughly 80 levels, I felt almost nothing but pure fun in the gameplay. It’s like Team Asobi took the core mechanics of platformers of our childhood and polished them to a modern standard, with stunning visuals to match. The developers expertise with the Dualsense again takes centre stage as a vibrant tactile experience - the controller vibrates differently for every surface Astro touches with associated audio. I hear you, that mechanic is a bit played by this point and always feels really gimmicky and intrusive. I’d argue Astrobot would be a far lesser experience without the Dualsense, as it is a tactile delight, as Jimquisition outlines far more verbosely than I can.

The game’s main campaign sees me blitzing through various biomes controlling our little bot through truly wonderful platforming, collecting coins, rescuing fellow bots and collecting puzzle pieces. Levels contain various power ups for Astro which change the way he plays - from a pair of spring-boxing gloves to a robot dog rocket backpack - which serve to spice up the levels, and usually become a main power up in each worlds end boss fight. These abilities are equally polished and always feel good - some, in other developers hands, would serve to carry an entire game but here will carry you through a few levels. God there’s even one level where you gain the power to turn into a little mouse robot to explore micro worlds within the main level - and it genuinely made me yell with joy! Equally I would happily play a game just using the time slowing down mechanic that allowed me to platform on items that were moving too quickly to be seen only seconds before, but it only shows up in a few levels.

Some of the difficulty spikes are a bit odd - the game is 90%+ entirely approachable for anyone familiar with video games - the joy really isn’t coming from the challenge here, but rather how well Team Asobi know how to make an excellent 3D platformer. Except there are a handful of secret levels which I can only describe as utter sicko mode which left me just shy of an aneurysm. They were far more challenging and I was simply not letting this little robot beat me. It’s a bit of an odd approach, from 0-100, and makes you wonder if this is just Team Asobi showing that they have the polish to do challenging platforming too.

The story sadly is really a bit of nothing - an evil alien which definitely doesn’t use the Xbox colours bumps into our little bots spaceship at the start of the game (which is shaped like a PS5), tears their precious PS5 Mothership to pieces, scatters the bots and leaves poor Astro for dead. He lands on a desert planet with the remnants of the PS5 mothership and has to travel the galaxies on his Dualsense shaped ship to rescue the bots and beat various end bosses to claim their pieces of the mothership to repair it. And sadly here begins my issues with Astrobot. I think Team Asobi poured their hearts into this game - I hope my words so far have made that clear. Nor is my heart made of stone - towards the end there is a scene where it looks like poor little Astro was done for and I was genuinely welling up with tears - I’m a sucker for this shit! And with that in mind…I think Astrobot should just be allowed to be Astrobot.

What I haven’t mentioned about the game is that a good proportion of the little bots you rescue are cosplaying various characters from historic Sony properties, from Solid Snake and Psycho Mantis to PaRappa the Rapper. As you rescue them they all stand around the hub world like some sort of museum exhibit and you can spend your coins unlocking little bonuses for them (a cardboard box for Solid Snake, etc) and they perform cute little animations.

Each galaxy even has a final stage after the boss level where little Astro cosplays with unique powers in levels themed after big Playstation properties, including God of War, Ape Escape and Locoroco. Locoroco! And whilst these games should be celebrated, maybe someone should tell Sony that. When was the last time Sony took a weird risk and published an Ape Escape, a Gravity Rush, a Shadow of the Colossus, a Patapon? Or are we just remastering The Last of Us again for some guaranteed revenue? The comparison is especially pertinent here - as Team Asobi is made up of creators from Sony’s disbanded Studio Japan - behind several of the aforementioned hits.

These adorable little cosplay bots, at best, reminded me of good times, and at worst felt like a soulless corporate parade of Sony’s greatest hits. It’s so impersonal. Cole Kronman put it well over at Kotaku - “The game’s identity is brand identity”.

Astrobot is a masterpiece in 3D platforming and an absolute joy to play. The strongest thing I can say in regards to my above criticism is that when I was in the midst of actually playing the numerous beautifully crafted levels, I sort of forgot about the Playstation stuff. My memories of this game are, as I hope I have managed to adequately describe, somewhat bittersweet, but only because I don’t trust big developers to let studios like Asobi cook. Take some risks. Make games for weird little freaks again, without literally making the main character ride branding.

2. Another Crab’s Treasure

Speaking of games made by freaks for freaks, Another Crab’s Treasure is a game I had been waiting for since it was announced in 2022. The developer, Aggro Crab, are a small indie studio based in the states and otherwise known for creating a roguelite called Going Under where you play as an intern at a shitty tech start-up where you dungeon delve into the leftovers of other failed tech start-ups. Thematically and gameplay wise, right up my alley. There’s something about playing a game by people who are just as terminally online as you.

So of course as soon as I heard they were developing a shellslike soulslike where you play as a cute little crab guy, I was immediately on board. Aggro advertise it as a “soulslike adventure set in a crumbling underwater world”. We embody Kril, a hermit crab who just wants to live a solitary life in their little tide pool. Their peace is interrupted when a very strange shark appears and starts telling them that they needs to pay tax all of a sudden, and when they can’t, repossesses Kril’s beloved shell! What the shuck, man? So begins our shy lil’ heroes reluctant adventure into the wider ocean.

Kril must take up the fork as they fight their way across the depths to claim back their beloved shell. Kril, now of course lacking a shell of their own for protection, must don various pieces of human cast off rubbish in the meantime which provide various powers as well as acting as a shield from enemy blows. Soda cans fire barrages of bubbles at enemies, sriracha bottle tops will make Kril spin like a top, and so on. Like Breath of the Wild before it, the shell weapons are destructible, taking damage from enemy attacks before ultimately breaking and forcing you to use another. Kril also has a branching skill tree of Umami combat powers which you unlock.

What players may find surprising is just how good it all feels. I don’t doubt Aggro’s ability to make a game, but making an enjoyable soulslike at indie scale isn’t an easy task. This game is a thoroughly competent, though approachable, soulslike. They truly understand the genre they’re paddling in - you only have to look at the first real boss fight to see they know what they’re about. The combat feels good, and whilst you don’t get another weapon beyond your (upgradable) starting fork, the variety of shell powers and the simple upgrade trees were enough to keep things fresh for me. Nor is this just a souls game on easy mode. Sure, the bosses won’t have you absolutely tearing your hair out but anyone who has died the many, many times required to memorise an attack pattern will feel right at home. That being said, there are a host of accessibility features too, including the fact that this is a soulslite game that you can actually pause. Or you could just give Kril a gun (an actual accessibility feature which replaces Krils currently equipped shell with a handgun capable of one-shotting any enemy in the game).

Whilst both Going Under and Crab’s Treasure are both deeply satirical in both their settings and plot, don’t let that fool you into thinking that either are shallow. Just as Going Under is sharp criticism of the Silicon Valley startup culture, ACT’s writing is a prod at our consumerist culture, with the polluting effect on both ourselves and our planet. For instance, one of the loading screens joyfully proclaims: “Fun Ocean Fact: There are microplastics in your blood and there’s nothing you can do about it!”. Whilst whimsical, this game has heart and something to say. In defiance of the literal water Kril swims in polluting the bodies and souls of the ocean dwellers around them, the game urges us that the true cure to this is found in community, and a very specific point where Kril realises it’s okay, hell, even healthy, to be angry in the face of what is being done to them and their community. Sometimes you’ve got to do something.

I can’t imagine why that would be pertinent towards the end of 2024.

I’m noticing that I maybe don’t have as much to say about ACT as some of my other entries. I don’t know what to say really - this game was fun, challenging, funny, and respected my time, with the whole experience clocking in at the 15-20 hour mark. Oh and the music slapped, which I’m noticing might be a theme for me. I think I just might be the exact audience for this game, and I feel genuinely happy that I live in a world where we can support small studios to make this sort of game. If you’ve enjoyed souls games in the past and want a kind of fun and whimsical take on what they can be, pick up Another Crab’s Treasure. Buy me a Kril Plushie so I c.an point at him and shout, “Little dude!”

1. Mouthwashing

As we begin my write up of my favourite game of the year (though the word “favourite” feels somehow wrong for this game), it is 23:35 on 15/12/24. I’m tired, slightly migraineous and it’s blowing a gale outside on the edge of slightly frightening. I should really be in bed. Conversely, I can’t think of a better mindset to write about my number 1 slot game of 2024, Mouthwashing.

I can’t remember exactly where I heard of this game. It was early October and I was doing one of my favourite things - browsing lists of indie horror games for Halloween. I usually download a handful of smaller games in the £5-15 range to play over the spooky season to get me in the mood. And I see a recent release, Mouthwashing, released a week or so prior. I can even see now in my Steam purchase history that I bought it alongside 2 or 3 other games, at the time thinking it really nothing special. This was before it consumed (certainly my corner of) the internet - my instagram reels, my twitter / X-The-Everything-App, my Bluesky, as well as pushing a previously unheard of (to me) Imogen Heap song into the depths of my brain. Yeah, this game is why you’ve been hearing this song everywhere. 

In the space of its around 3 hour runtime, this game clawed it’s way into my cerebral cortex and laid down foundations. I have rarely played a game so simultaneously visually stunning as it is repugnant, forcing me to not only hold the controller but to be an accomplice to not a supernatural, but human, tragedy. Mouthwashing has now not left me alone for around 3 months and counting. It haunts me.

The games steam page advertises the game as:

Mouthwashing is a first-person horror game following the dying crew of a shipwrecked space freighter.

“Who could have known what good ol’ Captain Curly was capable of? Guess he thought his crew dying alongside him was only right. But some men can’t even kill themselves properly. Maimed, limbless and unable to speak, but alive, Curly is now at the mercy of the crew he has doomed to a slow death.”

There is something worth noting before we go any further. I firmly believe the best way to experience this game beyond this point is to go in blind (I would also urge you to please look at the Steam Page content / trigger warnings before doing so. It’s pretty much all of them). From here on out I will be trying and likely failing to manage to adequately verbally express my feelings on this game and why I think it is a masterpiece of the genre. Spoilers abound.

This game is not a tight platformer with outstanding combat and a soaring score. This game is a human drama, wrapped in the veneer of scifi (scifi at its core of course, should be used to tell very human stories). It is a story about corporate greed and negligence, male cruelty, and the narcissistic fantasies we tell ourselves when we hurt those under our power. What’s truly frightening is not some supernatural entity, nor the cruelty of the villain of this piece, but as the games head writer, Johanna Kasurinen, said in an interview - that you might just see part of yourself in him.

My first suspicion that I was about to play something distinctly different was actually the opening menu, which is set before the image above, with a prone figure, grievously injured, staring into a digital, seemingly eternal, sunset. On starting the game, we see a star field which gradually resolves into an image introducing us to the scenario our cast (because, in my heart, this game is in so many ways ,a play) finds themselves in:

A lesser game would have I HOPE THIS HURTS scrawled across the screen in shaky penmanship, perhaps even in blood. Mouthwashing presents this line nonchalantly. It presents it in the same font as the rest of the ship’s manifest, tangible, factual data. We don’t know who verbalises this line. We don’t know if it’s the developer telling the player a message, or in a role as an initial scene setting narrator, or in the voice of a character we’ve yet to meet. Mouthwashing doesn’t deliver the line with any malice, it’s just fact. It hopes this hurts.

Following this, we find ourselves, in the presumed role of Captain Curly, as we intentionally crash the long haul freighter, the Tulpar, into an asteroid (doing so will result in funds being removed from ALL crew wages, the screen flashes warningly). As the ship careens towards doom, the player sprints away from the cockpit, from their deed, dooming the crew to a swift death. As I turn corner after corner after corner, I suspect something is deeply wrong, as I have the impression that the ship is not supposed to be this big. Were there always that many creepy corporate posters on the walls? Why are the walls plastered in them now? Why can I hear a baby crying? Oh.

From this point on, we jump between perspectives of Jimmy, the copilot and acting-captain after The Crash, and Curly, before The Crash. Filling out the cast are the seemingly nervous and skittish ships nurse, Anya, the surly engineer Swansea, and bundle of youthful joy, intern Daisuke. There are only six rooms in the ship. This is your cast and this is your stage.

After the crash, things are understandably tense. There is no obvious sign of help on its way, and the crew are going to run out of food far before they run out of air. Entire parts of the ship are blocked off by emergency foam, which deployed to maintain pressurisation of the ship’s hull. The captain, Curly, is a mutilated wreck of a man, limbless, and shrouded in bandages from head to toe, apart from his one piercing blue eye, staring, you could say, in an accusatory fashion. His cries keep the crew up at night, and only a rapidly depleting supply of painkillers keep him silenced.

The resulting non-linear narrative plays out across a series of scenes, “gameplay” mostly consisting of walking-sim style interactions with a couple of fetch quests and two notable areas of more “traditional” gameplay which reviewer consensus tends to agree do more to hurt the flow of the game than help. Scene transitions are often jarring and take the form of glitching screenwork - (which looks truly unique and takes advantage of the games retro aesthetic to great success), often bending reality and evoking dreamspace logic - forcing you to question the veracity of the things taking place before your eyes as it represents the rapidly deteriorating mental state of the crew.

Several things are revealed to us through the following scenes.

The crew go against company policy and break into the hold, hoping against hope they’re shipping at least something they can eat. They are in fact shipping, across the galaxy at risk to their lives, thousands upon thousands of bottles of high-alcohol, high-sugar (and therefore essentially useless), mouthwash.

Anya, after the crash, appears both terrified yet deferential around Jimmy, as if he is a powder keg about to erupt.

We discover that before The Crash, corporate informed Curly and therefore the crew that they were to be laid off after this shipment was complete. The majority of the crew, Curly excepted, would likely be left destitute.

We see a scene (lovingly voice acted by fans, here), from before The Crash, which is easily overlooked on first inspection but contains the crux of the game’s plot. Anya has noticed something about the ship that she cannot unsee. Curly, for the life of him, cannot see it. Anya asks how long they have left of the trip, with Curly replying, “237 days, just under-”. Anya cuts him off. “8 months”, before asking why none of the crew quarters are able to lock from the inside, but the medical bay does. “Safety”, he replies.

From there, the story descends into a non-linear brutal tragedy. You can (and I would argue, should) play this game in one sitting. It visually evokes a style that is currently in vogue, in blocky PSX style graphics which makes my horror heart sing. I didn’t realise why some of the imagery of both the flashing intermittent title cards and some of the more horrific elements seemed so familiar to me - before another user online pointed out that this game draws heavily from the cinematic visuals of Neon Genesis Evangelion.

The game will ask you to not only hold its hand while performing cruelty, but ask you to be a willing participant. The difference between horror films and games is that you can close your eyes in the film. You have to cooperate and click the buttons to make the horror happen in the game. You did that. This is a character drama in space about the horrific things people do to one another under pressure, the power capital wields over us and in turn the power we wield over others. It is about the lengths we go to to avoid taking responsibility, whilst convincing ourselves that we are. Mouthwashing will leave a bad taste in your mouth. But it wanted to. It hopes this hurts.

I could write more on this game. I probably will, in the future. But it’s 01:30 in the morning now and more than anything I want you to go and play it. Okay, what I want is to sleep, but secondly I want you to play Mouthwashing. If you don’t have Steam, I would watch a stream if you can - though I imagine it will rapidly make its way to a console release.

Thanks for reading. Happy 2025 when it comes, and thanks for 2024.

Fuck Capitalism, Go Home. x