The subject of this installment: Dead Ink, developed and published by Offwidth Games.

In a market oversaturated with soulslikes, it says something that Dead Ink stands out. While much of the basic vocabulary belongs to From Software, one-person studio Offwidth has embellished it with one of the more enticing settings in recent memory. It’s at once calming and terrifying, it wastes no space, and an acrophobic top-down camera system (imitating a wide-angle lens) finds new ways to both share and deviously obscure valuable information. First impressions are quite strong.

Dead Ink‘s story is light on concrete details (to its benefit, as it gets by on atmosphere alone) but the basic gist is that we’re a transhuman construct navigating some kind of tower. Anyone who gets an endorphin rush from opening a shortcut back to an old bonfire in the Souls games will appreciate the intricacy of this place, with a seemingly endless number of alternate routes, hidden paths and secret backdoors. In a climate where major studios only ever seem to be concerned with making games as big as possible, it’s refreshing to see something like Dead Ink get this much real estate out of a relatively small space.

I want to spend more time talking about the setting, and if Dead Ink was worth recommending, I would. Unfortunately, the many things that Dead Ink gets right are rendered moot by the one thing it gets terribly wrong – the combat.

The main problem is that there’s very little way to mitigate damage. The AI doesn’t seem to know how to do anything other than make a beeline for the player, and since nearly all of the enemies in Dead Ink can run at least as fast as the protagonist, maneuvering around them is largely impossible and the only option is usually to face them head-on. There’s a regenerating stamina meter but it only applies to defense, so enemies have no incentive to do anything but close in and wail away until someone dies. Nobody reacts to getting hit in Dead Ink, either, so the simple act of landing an attack and avoiding damage from the inevitable counter-blow often feels like it comes down to luck.

There are ways to make the rank-and-file enemies manageable, at least, by upgrading equipment or spawning with extra items — more on that in a moment. It’s the bosses that killed any desire I had to see Dead Ink through to the end, because there doesn’t seem to be any way to defeat them other than to just endlessly kite them around, chipping away at their massive health meters while praying I never took any damage in return.

See, Dead Ink has one of those healing systems that forces players to come to a complete standstill for a moment. This makes sense when combat allows for natural downtime, but since these enemies and bosses don’t provide any breathing room, I’d wager that roughly 90% of the times I’ve tried to heal during combat, I would just immediately get hit again. It’s a classic example of a developer pulling one of FromSoft’s ideas without really examining why it was implemented in the first place.

Compounding the frustration is the way experience and leveling works. Souls in this game are “ink” and checkpoints/bonfires are “printers.” When the player saves at a printer, they deposit all of their current ink into that specific terminal. Respawning from that point costs a certain amount of ink depending on what the player wants to equip. A weapon and shield cost extra, and players can bring as many healing items, grenades, and so forth as they can afford. Dying repeatedly at the same spot without banking more ink means the printer will eventually run out, at which point the player will have to spawn from a terminal that’s farther away, trek all the way back, and fill it up again.

So, if I’m stuck on a boss, not only is it a hassle because the combat itself is lackluster, and not only do I have a lengthy run-up before every attempt, but I can only die against the boss a certain number of times before I need to do some mandatory ink-farming. The game does give players the ability to recover their lost ink from their “bloodstain,” but the boss chambers lock players in, and so any ink lost during a boss fight is effectively lost forever until the guy is killed once and for all.

And just to raise the stakes even higher, there is permadeath in Dead Ink. If the player runs out of ink across all discovered printers, they can no longer respawn, and the save file is lost.

There’s a reason the system works like that, admittedly, because one of the things I love about Dead Ink is how compact it is. The player is never geographically very far from anything, which is why the checkpoint system is, at least on paper, more reasonable than it sounds. It’s meant to test our mental map of the environment, and in a game where the combat was better or at least more forgiving, I would honestly be praising this. Hell, I’m not even entirely sure why this game even has combat to begin with other than to check a box.

Again, the attempt here is admirable. Plenty of larger, more prominent developers have tried to crack FromSoft’s code and failed to come as close as this does. With some major tweaks to the combat, this could have been one of the precious few soulslikes to earn favorable comparisons to Dark Souls. It’s heartbreaking that I can’t recommend Dead Ink, but I’m excited for Offwidth’s next project regardless.

The subject of this installment: Turnip Boy Commits Tax Evasion, developed by Snoozy Kazoo and published by Graffiti Games.

Has it ever struck you as particularly weird that in Zelda games, Link is constantly barging into other people’s houses, breaking their pots and making off with their money, and he never seems to face consequences for it? The developers of Turnip Boy Commits Tax Evasion have certainly picked up on it, and they’ve fashioned an entire adventure around a character whose sole purpose in life is to create problems for anyone in his path.

Set in a universe inhabited by sentient food products, the titular character – who has an evil smile perpetually plastered onto his face, and whose “dialogue” consists almost entirely of ellipses – has already committed tax evasion before the game has even begun. The mayor gives Turnip Boy some chores to make up for the money he owes, and the joke is that while he consistently completes his tasks, he indiscriminately steals, vandalizes and kills in the process, leaving his town in a greater state of disarray than when he started.

For a comedy title, Turnip Boy is a reasonably funny one. It’s short enough that its primary joke never gets old – I particularly liked the running gag where Turnip Boy responds to any document he’s given by immediately ripping it in half – and nearly every NPC exists to drop non sequiturs that all sound like the stuff I used to text people late at night while high on ambien. An encounter with a needlessly-aggressive macaroni noodle got an audible chuckle out of me.

As an homage to Zelda, however, Turnip Boy just doesn’t have the girth or intricacy of Nintendo’s flagship franchise. One of the reasons I’ve stood by the Zelda series, even through its worst days, is because there’s nothing else quite like it in the industry. Its particular dungeon/overworld/dungeon rhythm is rarely imitated, and even when unrelated developers attempt to recreate the formula, the puzzles and bosses are rarely up to par.

While I could maybe complain that Turnip Boy’s soundtrack dangerously straddles the line between “catchy” and “grating,” or that only being able to equip one item at a time is needlessly finicky given how many of the Switch’s buttons aren’t even used, the game doesn’t have many noteworthy flaws, per se. Instead, it’s all just too simple and too straightforward. The dungeons don’t even have any maps, because they’re too small in scale to need maps. The moment-to-moment enemy encounters are dull, and the bosses don’t rile up enough excitement to make up for it.

After a while, it became evident that the only reason I kept playing Turnip Boy was to drink up more of that amusing dialogue. That’s more of a hook than many games can offer, but it was barely enough to hold my interest for even the couple of hours it took to blaze through the short campaign.

As much as I loved Breath of the Wild, Nintendo’s intention to make the series follow a similar open-world formula from here on out leaves a void that I’d love to see filled by other developers, yet the secret to crafting a classic Zelda adventure remains as elusive as the recipe for Coca-Cola. I appreciate that Turnip Boy managed to make me giggle a few times, but I can’t say it justifies a fifteen-dollar price tag.

The subject of this installment:  The Captain is Dead developed and published by Thunderbox Entertainment.

In the vast reaches of space, the plucky crew of a starship is under siege from the vicious, evil aliens.  When all seems lost, the heroic Captain executes a daring plan to save ship and compliment…

Unfortunately, the Captain is burnt to a crisp. Oh, no! The Captain is Dead! It’s now up to the remaining crew to repair their battered ship, repel the alien invaders, and escape to fight another day. 

Realistically, though? They’re gonna get obliterated over and over again.  But it’s enjoyable!

Thunderbox Entertainment has done an admirable job of converting real-life board game The Captain is Dead to a digital format, but it’s missing a few elements that would catapult it from being a cool diversion to a must-play masterpiece.

The basic flow of play is that each crew member takes his or her turn attempting to put out various fires on board the ship while trying to reach the overall goal of reactivating the damaged Jump Core, which provides an escape and ends the episode. 

Characters’ unique abilities mean some are better-suited for certain tasks than others. The Engineer should be focusing on collecting tech points to repair the Jump Core, while the Security Officer can handle any aliens rampaging around.  A party cannot include all character types, so the team has to prepare for every eventuality without necessarily having the optimal folks for every potential situation. This talent/resource management creates most of the tension during a playthrough, as characters must move about the ship trying to take care of more than they’re actually capable of handling, and a new problem always springs up after each character’s turn.

Let’s talk about the good first. 

The Captain is Dead is a great-looking title.  It nails the cheesy-retro sci-fi aesthetic with a vibrant color palette and excitingly angular and chunky model designs. The crew members exude personality despite being made up of a few polygons — the nerdy Ensign slouches about, the Chief Engineer studies problems with her spanner at the ready, and the otherworldly Counselor observes the proceedings in detached manner. These little touches make the characters leap to life in a way their cardboard counterparts cannot. Also, the sound is appropriately atmospheric, helping to create the feeling of being in an early-’60s sci-fi melodrama.

The game also excels at creating a sense of impending danger.  During every turn something is breaking down, an anomaly is scrambling sensors, or invaders are trying to take the bridge. The stakes are high, but TCID is also pleasantly tongue-in-cheek. 

Now, the bad…

I love the idea of The Captain is Dead more than I enjoyed playing. The tension is clever, but even on the easiest difficulty it was common to get hopelessly overwhelmed.  I understand that throwing a lot at the player is a core mechanic, but it’s often more frustrating than fun because of the randomized nature of the alerts. It’s also worth noting that the tutorial trades information for snark, which fits with the overall atmosphere but fails to explain as much as I felt was necessary.

Also, The Captain is Dead isn’t complete.  It’s fully-featured and playable, but the roster is thin.  Only nine of the board game’s 18 playable characters are currently available, although the developers are adding new members on a near-monthly basis. Players can absolutely finish a session with the current roster, but since I don’t know what the remaining characters can do, I still don’t know if there’s a team that better fits my playstyle.

I enjoy the humor and there’s no shortage of challenge, but The Captain is Dead is a bit of a tough sell at the moment.  However, it’s definitely one to keep an eye on, especially as the roster continues to fill out. 

The subject of this installment: Ride 4, developed and published by Milestone.

I’ve been on a racing game kick lately. Though my preference is usually for the arcade variety (Burnout and Need for Speed come to mind), in an attempt to broaden my horizons, I ditched four wheels for two in Ride 4.

The Ride games are a series of motorcycle racing sims. Think of something akin to Forza Motorsport, but with bikes as opposed to cars. Ride 4 is a serious racer that focuses on the intricacies of Grand Prix motorcycle racing (aka MotoGP).

As a newcomer to this style of content, my initial impressions, I’ll start by saying that this an experience clearly meant for those who are diehard sim fans or motorcycle gearheads.

Honestly, I struggled a bit with the opening gameplay segment. I was tasked with trying to obtain a certain time in a qualifying race. As someone who is awful at turning or drifting sharp corners in most racers, having to contend with a vehicle that moves with my driver’s body takes a lot of getting used to.

Most of the game is simply racing, though there is  a lot of added variety thanks to weather effects and a day and night cycle to shake things up. There are several different modes included, and I spent the most time with Career mode. Here, players pick one of three leagues (European, Asian, American) and compete in several different races across different countries.

Racing felt good once I got the hang of it. It’s very fast (…and furious) but there is an elegance to maintaining one’s balance. Even better, the game offers plenty of options to assist new riders (like me) with things like automatic braking and more simplified controls. Sure, I never got to the comfort level I might have with an arcade racer, but I appreciated it.

Racing aside, what really piqued my interest in Ride 4 was the garage and dealership. Similar to other racers, Ride 4 is a virtual collection of gorgeous bikes — brands like Yamaha, Honda and Harley Davidson are all represented here, with an extensive editor included too. Players can edit the colors of their rides and riders with some great options including colored helmets, tracksuits and even riding style.

Ride 4 is an in-depth experience that’s definitely made for enthusiasts. While I enjoyed seeing what it had to offer, mastering its mechanics is an uphill challenge that made me realize I will probably never race motorcycles in real life.

The subject of this installment: Wintermoor Tactics Club, developed by EVC and published by Versus Evil.

The quick line on Wintermoor Tactics Club is that it’s Fire Emblem: Three Houses lite.

Set in a New England boarding school in the early ‘80s, Tactics Club follows the adventures of a trio of friends who are united by their love of a strategic-play RPG called “Curses and Catacombs”. When the headmaster of the school declares a “war of the clubs” based on snowball fights, they begin applying their knowledge from the game to real life.

Battle, whether in C&C or snowball, takes place on a square grid. Each character has unique capabilities and special attacks, but the fundamentals will be familiar to anyone who’s played a strategy RPG. Only three characters can go into each fight, at least on the Tactics Club side, so the system feels restrained and simplified. That said, there’s an option to make every fight dead easy if you’re not feeling it and just want to follow the story.

Wintermoor’s narrative is set in the school and mainly involves protagonist Alicia walking around, talking to various students and retrieving items they’ve left somewhere or lost. Conversing with allies and developing friendships unlocks new powers for the slowly-expanding team. The cast is charming and believable (if a little prone to stereotypes) and the dialogue is sharply written.

Alas, this is not a review because I can’t stand to play this game, and the problem is load times.

The bulk of Wintermoor takes place on a map of the school, from which one selects buildings to enter. Going into a building, changing rooms in a building, and going back to the overworld all have loads between them. On its own this would be annoying enough, as the shortest load I ever got was on the order of 5 seconds. However, the true situation is much worse than that.

As my playtime increased, so did the loading times. At one point I clocked a loading screen at 58 seconds, with a further 12 seconds of soft-lock afterwards. This sort of thing rendered a major part of Wintermoor too frustrating to play, particularly since many of the activities in the non-combat portions involve a lot of traipsing back and forth between buildings.

The lengthening of the loads with playtime (and they got this long after about an hour, so not a LOT of playtime) has the smell of a memory leak issue. I can’t rule out, however, that the problem is my wheezing, launch-edition PS4, and I would hate to dissuade people from playing on a more tolerable platform because of my PS4’s geriatric issues.

Loading times are apparently not a problem in the PC version, so if this option is available to you, I encourage you to give Wintermoor Tactics Club a go on that platform. I found the writing in the first three chapters charming and the combat competent, but on my PS4 the loading times were simply too much of a burden to continue.

The subject of this installment: My Beautiful Paper Smile, developed by Two Star Games and published by V Publishing.

My relationship with horror games is somewhat strained. I dislike typical ‘scary face’ caricatures because they’re overdone and weaken whatever substance their story was supposed to convey. Far worse than caricatures, however, are jumpscares. I despise them and feel they’re a cheap, ungrounded and somewhat unethical way to make a game ‘scary’.

Still, some of my favorite games belong to the horror genre — the thing is, they’re dystopian horrors that make the story and world scary rather than relying on shocks or creepy faces. With My Beautiful Paper Smile, I’d hoped that the overused plotline of citizens being forced to wear smiling masks at all times would lead to an experience of intellectual horror, but my first impressions paint a different picture.

Perhaps I should have heeded the warning posted at the very start of the game — Paper Smile occasionally uses light flashes to scare the player. Still, this 3D third-person dungeon crawler-like adventure drew me in with a black-and-white paper cut-out aesthetic.

The player starts as an unnamed character in a prison that represents a society. Its inhabitants are ‘Joyous’ — those who wear a smile mask on their faces and are restricted to only a few areas. It seems like the concept of a panopticon has heavily inspired this title, and I was interested — or at least I was until I got to the gameplay, which is dungeon exploration.

The Joyous carry a ‘life’ (similar to a torch) with them which keeps the darkness out. Most of the play area consists of walls, and a majority of exploration results in walking into dead ends and a few items. There’s not much difficulty in the exploration itself, but there are lethal enemies that relentlessly pursuit the player, and upon contact, cause a very offensive jumpscare.

While Paper Smile‘s gameplay is supported by some environmental storytelling — such as writing about death and torture on the walls — the story itself doesn’t feel substantial or distinct enough to legitimize slogging through these jumpscare dungeons. If My Beautiful Paper Smile is capable of delivering more than a quick shock, I didn’t see it.

The subject of this installment: Fight Crab, developed by Calappa Games and published by Playism.

When I make the decision to formally Not Review a game, it’s usually because there’s something preventing me from completing it or otherwise forming a clear, well-rounded opinion on it. In the case of Fight Crab, it’s because I’ve played plenty of it and still honestly have no idea whether or not I recommend it. I have all of the information I need, and I still can’t make heads or tails of this.

If you do a search on YouTube for Fight Crab, the first result is a Markiplier video — this communicates exactly how likely you are to find a serious, competitive experience beneath this silly premise. Although it’s technically a fighting game, its controls and physics are more akin to something like Octodad – unwieldy, imprecise, and unreliable. Although I’ve felt myself become better at the game as I’ve progressed through its campaign, I’m unconvinced that anyone can truly be good at it.

The object of every one-on-one match is for the player to flip the other crustacean – usually a crab, though the odd lobster is present – onto its back. Damage accumulates via a Smash Bros.-esque percentage meter that makes the target more susceptible to capsizing. Players move the crab’s claws with the left and right analog sticks, punching and grabbing things with the triggers and bumpers, respectively.

You may be wondering how the crabs actually move when both analog sticks are dedicated to attacking. Well, whenever the player gets a free moment, they can reach down and tap a direction on the d-pad, after which the crab will auto-strafe in that direction. Combined with the bouncy physics and the fact that attempting to aim the crab’s attacks feels more like a suggestion than an order, Fight Crab is less about mastery and more about closing your eyes and hoping for the best.

It was developed by Calappa Games, whose previous releases include Ace of Seafood and Neo Aquarium: The King of Crustaceans, so clearly they’re committed to a running theme and Fight Crab’s strange, uneven tone leaves me wondering if they’re trying to weave a competitive fighting engine out of this nonsense. The crabs are all rendered realistically, and the arcade-style menus and asynchronous J-rock soundtrack shriek a self-serious sense of cool, albeit the sort we’d have seen in a Dreamcast game — but then, that’s all part of Fight Crab’s charm.

If this is all intentional, Calappa was wise not to overplay the humor and let the absurdity of its premise be the joke in and of itself. If this was a dead serious project and Fight Crab is simply a bad game, well, it’s an awfully amusing bad game. The presence of random gadgets like lightsabers and jet thrusters underline that this is the sort of title likely to be as entertaining to spectators as it is to the people actually playing it.

I must confess that I generally find fighting games too technical. While I’ve always wanted a game to “unlock” this genre for me – to translate its language into one that I understand – Fight Crab is accessible for doing the opposite. It brings everyone else down to my level by introducing a control scheme that no human could ever hope to become skilled with. It’s frankly closer to a party game than a fighter.

Is it good? Of course not, and I’m not sure that my conscience allows me to suggest that anyone pay actual money for it. But should it find its way into your library regardless, you can certainly get some good streams out of it.

The subject of this installment: MindSeize, developed and published by Kamina Dimension.

A time long ago, I desperately wished for more games like Metroid on the market. Then a finger on the monkey’s paw curled, and I’ve finally begun experiencing the negative side of getting exactly what I wanted.

Nowadays, the 2D Metroidvania is one of the indie scene’s most oversaturated genres, and while exemplars can still wow me – the magnificent Ori and the Will of the Wisps remains one of my favorites this year – there’s little room for something as generic as MindSeize, even when it’s competently made.

As vaguely suggested by the title, MindSeize is set in a sci-fi universe where a person’s consciousness can be transferred between host bodies, willingly or otherwise. The adventure begins with the paraplegic protagonist’s daughter having her mind abducted by an evil organization. He tracks the villains to an alien planet. In order to efficiently hunt her abductors down, his mind is moved into a powerful, agile robot body.

What follows is the most stock-standard exploration-based action-platformer imaginable. Unless something drastically changes in the later portions of the campaign, the mind transfer gimmick never factors into play in any meaningful way — it’s simply a plot device that’s cast aside once control is turned over to the player.

MindSeize represents one of the biggest challenges I’ve ever faced as someone with the responsibility of describing videogames, because it is utterly nondescript. The protagonist (whose name, unfortunately, is “M.C.”) can run, jump, shoot, and swing a sword. He eventually picks up abilities that allow him to do things like wall-jump and squeeze through tight gaps, which gradually expand a world that’s nonlinear in scope. If this sounds familiar, congratulations – you’ve played a videogame before.

It’s not a particularly polished title, with M.C. often getting humorously locked into single animation frames and certain maneuvers feeling frustratingly stiff. In an industry where major studios increasingly work their employees half to death ironing out every wrinkle, though, I’m not inclined to knock something as small as MindSeize for feeling rough around the edges as long as promising ideas shine through. Unfortunately, a complete lack of promising ideas aside from the premise is MindSeize’s real crime.

I eventually got stuck in the campaign, having explored the world to the best of my current ability, and hit nothing but dead-ends. I’m sure I’m missing something, and maybe if I dug through what little YouTube coverage exists, I’d eventually find the answer… but I just can’t be bothered.

In a past era when Metroid clones were uncommon, something like MindSeize might have been worth recommending. In 2020, though, it’s hard to find a reason to play it when there are so many other, better options.

The subject of this installment: Escape From Life, Inc. available on PC, developed and published by Power Burger.

When I was a young teenager I had plenty of things on my mind, but I can’t recall any that were especially creative or productive. The same can’t be said for the developer of a new puzzle-platformer available on PC, Escape From Life, Inc. Work on this title began nearly two years ago when the developer was only 14 years old! Publishing a videogame at such a young age is quite an accomplishment and what I played had promise, but sadly, I was unable to finish.

Escape From Life, Inc. begins with animals being captured and placed in a mysterious biodome. There’s Ern the eagle, Rick the reindeer, and Bob the fish (who wakes up with synthetic legs!) When they meet each other, the three form a pact to escape the secretive lab filled with anthropomorphic animals, robot guards, and even a sentient, extremely large onion! The plot is quirky, with plenty of NPCs to interact with.

Players can expect a lot of puzzle-solving with Escape From Life, Inc. In addition to basic actions like jumping and pressing switches, each animal has a unique ability. Bob is the only one able to enter water, Ern can fly, and Rick can use his antlers to smash obstacles. Players must alternate between the three in order to press buttons, break boxes, traverse spike-filled pits, and overcome a host of obstacles to open up new areas. While not overly complex, each of the puzzles were well made.

While puzzle solving is the main focus, there are also platforming elements and boss battles. I found myself wall jumping, running from a crushing wall, and battling a frog with a propeller tongue. These other elements were never frustrating, and the controls are precise and accurate even when the pace is more frantic than the otherwise laid-back action.

There’s plenty to like about Escape From Life, Inc. but unfortunately my time with it was cut short due to a game-ending glitch. I came to a room during the third chapter and was unable to jump, and thus unable fly. There was a floor of spikes blocking my way, but without the ability to fly, I was stuck. I restarted and when I had the exact same thing happen in the same place on my second playthrough, I gave up.

It’s too bad, as I was enjoying my time with Escape From Life, Inc. It’s a quirky game with great character design and simple, yet engaging, puzzles to solve – this is very promising work from a self-published teenage game designer. Hopefully, the glitch will be fixed with an update, as I wouldn’t mind seeing how the three characters end up escaping!

The subject of this installment: Dungeon of the Endless, available on Switch, PS4, XBO and PC, developed by Amplitude Studios and published by Merge Games.

As a reviewer, nothing’s more disappointing than being handed a great game for review and then finding out that it’s not ready for prime time.

I started Dungeon of the Endless well in advance of its launch and had plenty of time to get a writeup done, except for one small thing — the pre-release code for the Switch port was glitched, and every time the game hiccuped, my progress got wiped.

I was less than happy about this, especially since DotE was great when it worked. I held off on my review since I was told a patch was coming, and now that it’s been patched, it’s still broken. As of the time this piece was written, I was literally unable to complete the game even once due to routine crashes. I find it impossible to believe that the developer and publisher didn’t see how crash-prone it was, and it shouldn’t have been released in this state.

With that aside for the moment, Dungeon of the Endless is a semi-turn-based roguelike with a good dose of tower defense thrown in. The story isn’t much of a factor, but the premise is that players crash-land on a hostile world and must carry their ship’s salvaged power crystal from the bottom of a dungeon, all the way up to the top floor where they’ll escape — although I can only guess about that.

At the beginning, there are a handful of characters available, with plenty more to be found and unlocked. They all vary in weapon type, skills, attack power, speed, and intelligence — want a speedy robot with a hologram lady head? An intelligent pug with a war hammer? A birdlike alien warrior? All of these folks are here, and more. Even better, some of them have mechanical synergies and shared backstory, so the cast is pretty neat.

The player starts by picking any two teammates available (max party size is four) and then entering the dungeon. Every floor is randomly generated and broken up into a series of rooms separated by doors, and in Dungeon of the Endless, doors are surprisingly critical. In fact, the entire game hinges on opening doors… and that pun was only halfway intended.  

DotE‘s semi-turn-based aspect comes from the fact that nothing happens until a door is opened. Players can avoid opening doors for as long as they like, but when they finally do, several things can occur. Characters entering the next room might find loot, enemies that want to destroy the crystal might spawn, or there might be nothing at all. Play isn’t just about moving from room to room, though. There’s an extra factor to consider called Dust.

Dust is found in limited amounts and powers rooms. Rooms with the power on will never spawn enemies and can generate resources or host defensive weaponry – this is where the tower defense aspect comes in. Haphazardly opening doors will lead to a quick game over thanks to a destroyed crystal or overwhelming enemy numbers. However, the player can strategically craft a path that monsters will follow and prepare choke-point defenses to stop them.

Dungeon of the Endless can be tough, but a good understanding of the systems and a bit of forethought makes it manageable — and if this description sounds a bit complicated and unusual, that’s because it is. It took me more than a few tries to figure out how all the pieces fit together since the tutorials are not great and don’t properly explain the concepts. But, once grokked, I appreciated the complexity and originality here.

Keeping in mind that Dungeon of the Endless is not currently in working order, other criticisms include things like the length of a run — although I’ve never been able to finish, I’ve gotten as far as the 11th floor and even that felt a bit too long. Gameplay is solid and strategic, but it tends to settle into similar rhythms once players get the hang of it. I’d prefer quicker runs with a focus on experimenting on team composition.

My other issue is a high-level one. Certain chars can generate extra resources if they’re left behind, but Dungeon of the Endless is great at moving an entire team or just one character — moving any number of chars that’s not one or all is incredibly cumbersome. Despite the advantages, I rarely split my team because it was too awkward to control. Some way of efficiently controlling a partial group would be great.

Apart from those minor annoyances, Dungeon of the Endless is a fresh idea that works well, it’s got a good level of depth, the sprite-based graphics are nice, the character design is great, it’s a perfect fit for the Switch and there’s just a heck of a lot to like here, especially for fans of roguelikes — it’s just totally broken. Much of this heartache could have been avoided if A) the glitches were fixed, and B) there was an autosave at the start of every level. I’m sure the developers were eager to avoid ‘save scumming’ as most roguelike devs are, but this port has chewed through too much of my time and energy, and some concessions towards quality-of-life would have been appreciated.

I like Dungeon of the Endless a lot when it works, but I absolutely can’t recommend it in its current state. Come back in 6 months and I’m sure it’ll be a winner.