Kids love the absurd. A railway train with eyebrows; a labourer with a love for delegating; and a piglet that lives to make her father’s life miserable:
children’s television has an ability to draw the young ones in, like
broccoli only wishes it could. Whilst the dribblers will gleefully gawk
at the block colours and idyllic environments for minutes on end, what
will really grab their attention is some added mischief. An appreciation
for devilment isn’t dependent on age, thankfully – we’d all be doomed
if that was the case. Everyone can enjoy a groundskeeper being drenched
by a sprinkler, or a cantankerous shopkeeper being locked in a garage,
especially when the reason for both is a 3-foot-tall goose.
In Untitled Goose Game, your main goal is to be a little bastard.
Brilliant, isn’t it? There is a very sweet and satisfying ending that
will make even the harshest crack a smile, but for the most part, your
aim, as the aforementioned goose, is to play a few cheeky pranks on the
inhabitants of a sleepy English village. It’s never nasty; developer
House House’s choice of flattened textures and calming pastels mutes any
concerns of malevolence. The minimal detail in the faces and clothes of
the butts of the joke amplifies the rascality. Snatching a sock from
the clothesline of a middle-aged lady, and waddling away with her in
pursuit, is the type of wholesome high jinks that would feel as at home
on CBBC as it does on your games-playing device.
Whilst the option to generally mess with the townsfolk is welcome,
you do have a list of objectives in each of the game’s five areas in
order to focus your tomfoolery. Wonderfully, rather than give you
clear-cut instructions on how to start crossing off your list, Untitled
Goose Game will, for example, tell you to simply ‘break the dartboard’
in the pub, and leave it up to you to figure out how. That vagueness
instils a sense of excitement when you enter a new location and
encourages you to experiment for the solution. There is a mild tinge of
disappointment when you realise that most missions require you to
perform specific actions in a particular order to succeed, but that
doesn’t make surveying your target or planning your approach any less
enjoyable. So, you can sort of pretend that you’re a feathery hitman.
Minus the garroting.
In fact, solving a puzzle involves more misdirection than straight up
stealth. Sure, to grab the teenager’s glasses without them knowing
you’ll have to advance from behind, but it’s not like they’ll sound the
alarm when they spot you. None of the villagers will. They’ll give chase
for a bit, but if you find a hiding spot, before they take back what is
rightfully theirs, they’ll quickly forget what’s irked them and return
to their mark. The easiest way to thrive is through distraction.
Grabbing the gardener’s rake, which the game excellently asks you to lob
into the nearby lake, is effortless after you’ve drawn his attention to
the other end of the allotment by pulling up all his carrots. These
people, and I cannot stress this enough, are absolute morons. The gag
wouldn’t work if they were a smidgen more intelligent – it’s only right
that the scheming goose be the brains of the piece – but their idiocy
does mean that your rib set-up is often very similar, regardless of whom
it is you’re ribbing. Minor complexities come in the end-game.
Yep. Untitled Goose Game has end-game content. And this is where the
quaint world that House House has built truly shines. All of the game’s
playgrounds are connected via paths and alleyways, allowing you to
wiggle from the beer garden, to the park, to the street market, creating
a real sense of place; I can believe that the man reading the paper on
his patio might go to the local for a pint in the evening, because it’s
only a hop, skip, and a jump away. In contrast to your to-do list
pre-credits, a smattering of post-credits missions will request that you
bring an item from one section of the village to another. More than a
handful would’ve further enhanced that feeling of a close-knit
community, but what’s here is appreciated.
I was raised on roguery: from Road Runner exploiting Acme
Corporation’s inefficient explosives, to Vic and Bob smashing each over
the head with frying pans, the silliness of slapstick has always had an
appeal. That same bombast would feel out of place in Untitled Goose
Game, though; these low poly characters and soft hues compliment cartoon
violence that revolves around more mundane practical jokes. An old lad
falling on his arse after you’ve pulled his stool out from under him may
not be the height of comedy, but did I mention you’re a goose?
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