PAX Australia came to searingly sunny Melbourne last weekend. After seeing the two-hour line for Alien Isolation 2 at the biggest games convention in the country, I decided my time would be far better spent going hands-on with some of Oceania’s best up-and-coming indie games. Here are five of my favorite hands-on experiences from PAX Australia.
Cooking for MA!
While Cooking for MA!’s cooking mechanics mirror Venba’s tactile approach to food preparation, New Zealand devs Tuatara Tea Party have added a retro RPG layer to ensure it’s not simply transplanting increasingly familiar digital cooking techniques into Korean cuisine.
Yes, you’ll wash and boil and serve up rice, plating it up to suit the taste buds of whoever it’s for as you prepare for your grandfather’s memorial service, but there are more earthly appetites to contend with: your bereaved halmeoni (grandmother) has been stolen away into a spirit world.
You face it in a top-down exploration mode reminiscent of the original Pokémon games, getting to meet (and feed) the local townfolk while remembering the deceased through preparing the meals they used to love.
One of my best cooking experiences this year was making bibimbap, a Korean rice dish. It took hours of prep to rehydrate mushrooms and slice, pickle, and sauté an intimidatingly huge heap of vegetables. With its blend of cooking and RPG mechanics every bit as eclectic as Korea’s trademark dish, I look forward to repeating the experience in Cooking for MA!.
No Humanity - InternShip
No Humanity - InternShip is a barmy physics-driven take on the bullet-hell survival roguelite. As a free-floating and highly expendable intern in a Rick & Morty-style world, you’re tasked with defending a drillship on its cavernous journey hunting for the last remnants of humanity.
All sorts of cartoonish nonsense is on hand to stop you, packing more laser beams than the most capable Jedi could ever deflect. You load autofire weapons onto the ship, with more to be equipped as your run progresses, but interns can never avoid the grunt work themselves.
In the demo, I swung a handily chained-on giant sword towards the closest enemies before they opened fire. When I was better prepared, I’d nab bits of rock to trim the number of enemy robots, either by erratically throwing them in their direction or swinging it around in a makeshift circular arc. Meanwhile, the ship’s fuel reserves needed constant topping up, needing me to scout and deposit for resources in the brief interludes before the next wave of attackers arrived.
Their relentless numbers meant I died dozens of times, but any self-respecting intern would be willing to lay their life down for this pleasingly madcap adventure, which releases in December.
My Arms Are Longer Now
Playing as a video game snake seemed to go out with the Nokia 3310, so it’s been a while since I played a slithering, extendable hand that players control in the comedy puzzle game My Arms Are Longer Now.
My demo begins with me crawling out of a vent on a moving train. It’s a heist mission, and I proceed to twist my way through the carriage like a sentient rubber hose intent on mischief and stealing a certain passenger’s briefcase — if only a barking dog wasn’t keeping her from enjoying a much-needed nap.
I can snake along the ground, looping my strangely boneless arm around a ticket inspector to trip him up, or reach upwards to slap hapless passengers or circumnavigate environmental obstacles like grabbing a hammer to smash through a glass window.
With a voice cast packed with Aussie comedians, it feels not entirely dissimilar from Thank Goodness You’re Here!’s local pride; expect the same hyperspecific regional quirks, impeccable vocal performances and a fondness for happily slapping strangers. But that bonkers control scheme promises an entirely distinct brand of slapstick gameplay.
Cyber Paradise
My favourite demo of the show was Cyber Paradise, an atmospheric cyberpunk roguelite that pairs rounds of frenetic improvised action with moody cafe narrative interludes.
In a true game for dog lovers, my canine companion DDmeow follows me around each level — I have to run to him to activate his parry ability; as my doggo friend never stays in one place, it adds an interesting positioning wrinkle to a mechanic that’s often overused and underbaked.
I soon unlock the ability to drop a barrage of exploding eggs with each jump, the chance to summon a swarm of dogs whenever I take damage, and put a sword, axe, and machine gun through their paces while looking to rescue the cafe’s favourite pet, Mini the dog. With strikingly lurid pixel art making its backdrops stand out, all to some lo-fi jazzy tunes, it’s one to check out when it releases next year.
Killing Things With Your Friends
Dismemberment’s usually a system for the animators to handle, but Kiwi developers Flightless Games asked: what if we made it the core mechanic of a friendslop game? The result is Killing Things With Your Friends, a game whose messy loot system could single-handedly solve the organ donation shortage.
It twists time-tested logic. See a weapon, check its stats: if it’s better than what you’re currently packing, then equip it. In this case, those weapons aren’t rifles and shotguns; they’re the legs and limbs of your enemies and friends. You can reattach them onto yourself for an improved, if lamentably degradable, upgrade, or simply wield them like a club while dealing with waves of zombies.
While controlling individual limbs for each punch and kick initially felt ungainly, it’s an ingeniously gory idea that concocts plenty of excuses to rip your friends apart into their component body parts.
