Does someone at Sumo Digital hate children?
I’m not asking that question from malice. I just can’t imagine a more reasonable reason behind the identity crisis that defines Snake Pass, the studio’s new serpentine platformer-of-sorts.
We’ve got, in the corner, the entire thinly veiled Banjo-Kazooie shtick. Colorful visuals, vibrant music, a duo of cartoon animals with matching names: Noodle the snake and Doodle the hummingbird. In the other corner, we’ve got gameplay that, a minimum of on occasion, will make you think about just reducing all of your fingers because they’re worthless pieces of garbage that won’t do what you let them know to and oh god why have you even agree to review this game why did you attempt doing offers in the first place this is ultimately your parents’ fault for buying you that Genesis.
In short, Snake Pass may look like a kids’ game, however it sure doesn’t play like one.
The culprit here, really, may be the desire to make a move wildly different for a platformer. Instead of centering on walking, jumping, or another type that'll be vaguely familiar to bipedal players, Snake Pass goes all in on the snake thing, presenting a control scheme made to replicate how limbless reptiles actually get around. Automatically, the left stick doesn’t actually move your body, but merely points your head. If you wish to move, you’ll need to hold down the right trigger-and if you want to do more than inch forward slowly, you’ll need to learn to swing your head backwards and forwards to slither, contorting the body in to the familiar S shape. Instead of jumping, you’ve got a button to boost your head up sufficient to slither onto smallish ledges.
And if all there is to Snake Pass was snaking your way around on flat surfaces, it would indeed be quite simple to develop confident with those controls. Fairly boring, too. But like any platformer, the actual substance of the experience comes from the level design, which relies heavily on obstacles constructed from lashed-together bamboo that build up into the air and out over fatal drops. You’ll spend the whole game attempting to master the art of climbing by wrapping your head around tightly enough which means you won’t fall off-aided by a grip function around the left trigger that coils your body more tightly-and then reaching for a higher rung.
It’s odd, because Snake Pass is, on some level, as simple as you may expect initially. No obstacle is so complicated that you simply can’t immediately visualize your plan of attack. Even in the later levels, when they start moving, the timing is never so punishing that the reflexes come up. Instead, the task is pulling from the numerous button presses, trigger pulls, and finessed rotations of the stick you know you need. It’s all in the execution, and that can be brutally frustrating at times.
In that respect, I’m inclined to check Snake Pass to games like QWOP, Surgeon Simulator, or Octodad, which all make use of a fundamental truth of game design: The “best” control schemes generally depend on an enormous layer of abstraction, reducing complex tasks to a simple button press to empower players. The closer you're able to direct, granular control over a personality, the easier it is for players to fail spectacularly, and that's why all three titles I mentioned above are first of all comedies making fun of their own shortcomings.
Snake Pass feels similar, albeit to a much lesser degree, but the difference here is that it’s all played fairly straight. Noodle may be a goofy-looking character who makes cartoonish faces while he’s falling to his death, but the focus is less on unintentional comedy and much more on the standard gameplay accoutrements of a classic 3D platformer. You’re expected to explore the levels, go from checkpoint to checkpoint, and nab collectibles along the way-three mandatory ones per level to open the exit, with a couple dozen more optional ones for additional challenge. There’s even a unlockable time trial mode with a few fairly punishing goals. You will find real challenges to surmount and real objectives to complete, and when you fail in the control scheme-or when it feels like the control scheme fails you-there’s real frustration in failing.
Perhaps the biggest shame in all this is that Snake Pass does an excellent job of fully exploring its concept with some clever design. The amount build out a three-dimensional grammar along with the greatest platformers, keeping the range coming with a mix of different gimmicks and light puzzle elements. Basically were only grading for craftsmanship, for artistry, Snake Pass may likely end up with high marks, but that’s never the entire picture. The worth of the underlying idea being based on that artistry matters, too. Suppose Vermeer spent his entire career painting dog butts. They'd without doubt be technically amazing, meticulously framed, and masterfully lit works. They would also be dog butts.
That comparison-Dutch masters, canine asses-is probably both too kind to Snake Pass‘s highs and too harsh on its lows, however i hope the overall sentiment is still clear. This particular mixture of control scheme, design rubric, and aesthetic feels a bit too thin and too mismatched to serve as a strong foundation for something of substance. The game doesn’t overstay its welcome by any means, but it’s also short and abruptly concluded. (Each world has four levels, except the final, which has only three. It’s hard not to read that as an admission the design ran its course ahead of schedule.)
Sumo has generated a game title that quite brilliantly explores fiddly, overly direct control of a snake in classic 3D platformer -inspired gameplay, having a strong graphical and musical aesthetic that’s the perfect update of their ’90s inspirations. But it’s this mixture of those different elements that's itself the issue, leading to an experience that feels as jumbled and forgettable as it does admirably competent in the delivery. Even if you enjoy a less-than-great idea, you’re still likely to miss greatness.
