The first time I throw down a cannister of GROB, I'm not entirely
sure what it is. As it explodes into a satisfying puddle of goo, the
exotic creatures around me - my scanner tells me they're Pufferbirds and
they "like, love me": it's already reciprocal - screech a joyful, if
alien, screech and waddle straight to it. Awed, I waddle right after
them.
Moments
later, their little bodies start contorting and their cheerful chirps
fade. With dawning horror, I realise I've mindlessly thrown down this
unspecified foodstuff without knowing anything about it - even though
I'm playing a game with the word "savage" baked right into the title -
noticing for the first time it's labelled "bait" in my inventory. It's
too late for recriminations, though, isn't it? These poor creatures are
jitter-bugging their final death throes. I'll be branded a Pufferbird
Poisoner, I think. The Avicide Assassin. Spare me no leniency, I'll
wail, as they drag me from the dock. Don't let me-
The convulsion
ends in an obnoxiously noisy fart and a cloud of blue atoms spills out
from beneath the Pufferbird's backside. Its neighbour swiftly follows it
up with a clamorous bottom-burp of its own. There's another trouser
toot from the corner of the cave - I hadn't even spotted that one - and
the faint luminosity of untapped atoms now presses softly against the
dark walls of the cavern. I step cautiously towards them, still wary of
upsetting the fowl, and gather my first resource - carbon - of the game.
Not
all experimentation in Journey to the Savage Planet ends so
innocuously, of course, but this initial encounter sets the template for
what will probably be several hours' worth of "ooh, I wonder what
happens if I do THIS?". I spend/waste a lot of time idly skipping
through the striking regions of planet AR-Y 26, ears pricked for the
telltale "gloop-gloop" sound that lets me know something gross but
edible is pulsating close by. Other times there'll be a gentle tinkle to
tell me a rich vein of coveted resources - carbon or aluminium, perhaps
- is close at hand, or a hypnotic musical sting will indicate a secret
is hidden nearby.
The similarities to titles like No Man's Sky
and The Outer Worlds are numerous, and several mechanical aspects of the
gameplay echo those of others, too, but to be fair to developer
Typhoon, Journey to the Savage Planet cultivates its own charm. And oh -
it's so gorgeous here! There are craggy mountains and snowy vistas and
leafy glades and icy caverns stuffed with indigo crystals. There are
giant mushrooms and scolding lava falls and bulbous, explosive shrubs
and hallucinogenic trees and plants that shoot fiery lasers at you.
Pulsing sacs of... well, I don't know what they're made of, really, but
they'll drop seeds that can be trampolines or sticky traps or flowers
strong enough to withstand a grapple tether. The game never tells you
any of this, of course; it's up to you to fiddle with the curious items
in your inventory and experiment with the bright, bold world around you.
Most
of AR-Y 26's animal life is delighted to meet you, whilst others are
unaffected by your presence. It troubles fewer still, which means you'll
only occasionally need to charge your infinity-ammo pistol and remind
the critters you don't necessarily come in peace. Journey to the Savage
Planet isn't a shooter in the traditional sense which is probably just
as well; the floaty gunplay and frequent recharging mean intense combat
sequences with tougher foes can be frustrating, especially if you're
looking to take down a boss or relieve a nearby vault of its precious
cargo. So unless I'm collecting very specific resources that are only
shed when certain species shrug off their mortal coils, I prefer to
leave the wildlife be.
A lack of meaningful peril means you can
indulge the whim to ignore your in-game objectives as often as you wish.
Co-operative partners can float about as they please, free to explore
different areas unchained from their companion. Regularly upgrading your
equipment means there's always a reason to jump into a handy
transporter and revisit old ground, utilising your new tools to unlock
areas that had hitherto been inaccessible.
Perhaps most amazingly
of all, not once did I begrudge this; despite its dizzying verticality,
the maps are contained enough and accessible enough to ensure you're
rarely far from your next objective, making backtracking a welcome
distraction rather than a chore.
Mostly, though, you'll spend your time leaping across AR-Y 26's
fascinating flora and fauna as you scout for resources that'll help get
your stranded ship up and running. You're working for Kindred Aerospace -
the fourth-best interstellar exploration company on earth, no less -
which had mistakenly presumed this planet was devoid of intelligent
life. The discovery of alien architecture suggests otherwise, but it's
up to you to traverse the world, collecting samples and data as you go,
and locate what you need to get back home again.
Very
occasionally, I encountered a problem. Sometimes, Savage Planet's beasts
glitched through the environment, once making it impossible to dispose
of a key enemy to unlock a vault until I'd left and returned to the area
via a transporter. Without a map to help orientate yourself, the
waypoint compass system can be a little confusing, and on a couple of
occasions, my handy respawn buddy spawned me in mid-air, which sent me
spiralling to my death again. Not sackable offences, granted, and they
didn't happen often enough to mar my experience, but something to bear
in mind, perhaps.
And
it's funny, too; honestly, genuinely comical. I know, I know - humour
is in the beholder's eye, and I've already told you about the farting.
Beyond that, though, Journey to the Savage Planet is stuffed with gentle
Portal-esque self-deprecation, often breaking the fourth wall and
offering up some of the most impressive, and entertaining, FMV in-game
videos and advertisements I've ever seen. The AI voice in your ear, EKO,
is both informative and charming without ever becoming an irritant, but
if you suspect you'd prefer a more solitary experience, you can tweak
her chatterbox-ness in the settings.
There are missions and
objectives to complete, of course, and items to unlock and upgrade via
the wonders of your 3D printer, plus there's plenty of collectibles, too
(oh, how I love collectibles!) Succumb one too many times, however, and
you'll lose the resources you've collected thus far and be forced to
make a Dark Souls-esque dash to retrieve them.
But good grief,
there's something so special about being untethered this way, free to
float and stomp and cheese my way around this remarkable place, poking
my head into the nooks and crannies as I meander along, admiring the
friendly fauna I pass by. I don't know why EKO's so keen for us to find
the fuel and get home. I'm pretty sure I never want to leave here.
0 Comments