My
wife is a gamer—not a gamer-gamer whose life revolves around our
console, but there are no problems picking up the controller if she
has a couple free hours in the evening. (She’s been playing
Witcher 3 for about a year.) For Christmas this past year we
got a second controller, which means our house has new options.
Looking through the lists of worthwhile couch co-op games (not a lot,
it seems), I came across a few that were universally recommended.
Among them was Overcooked, and seeing it on sale for
dirt-cheap on the Playstation store one day, I picked it up. All I
can say is: marriage therapy.
I
have not checked, but I would guess Overcooked can be played
single-player. But who would want to? All the game’s fun in
interaction and team play, in Overcooked players play as chefs
in various kitchens who must prepare and combine ingredients to meet
customer’s orders, all against a clock. The first kitchen is
pretty straight forward: players chop vegetables to prepare salads
and serve the plates—typical restaurant kitchen activity. But
after, things get wonky. The kitchens which follow change things up.
Some feature moving counters, some split in half every minute, some
are located on moving cars, some feature rats who steal ingredients,
and so on. If working together to coordinate and prepare orders
under the pressure of time is not enough, then the wacko-kitchens add
a layer of complexity. On top of this, the orders become more
complicated (salads are much easier to prepare than burgers or
soups), all of which pushes the game toward that bouncy ball of chaos
and fun “I need one more onion!” “Take the pot from the
stove, it’s burning!” “Wait until I serve this meal!” “Wash
some plates! I have nothing to put the burger on!” It’s
when players reach flow state, moving in and out of each other’s
paths with purpose, working in sync, and preparing orders at speed
(i.e. they know where the bouncy ball will bounce next), that the
game becomes extremely satisfying. Yes, marriage therapy.
Developers
attempt to overlay a story onto gameplay. It is cartoonish and weak,
which fits the overall motif, and does serve in some minimal fashion
to tie the pieces of the game together. At the same time, it feels a
bit over the top. Developers could have overlaid some rank system or
competition for master chefs (like old school games would have), and
perhaps achieved more. But tough to say. To be clear, nobody should
play Overcooked for the story. It’s all about the chaotic
fun.
Only
two buttons required, anybody can play Overcooked. Success,
however, is not so simple. Nothing to do with memorizing boss attack
patterns or solving a platform puzzle, Overcooked is all about
player organization and teamwork in fun settings. There will be as
much laughter as frustration. Best for partners and small groups of
friends interested in such games, it could also serve as an
interesting team integration event for companies. I joke about
marriage therapy: the game is simply not that far reaching. But for
those moments when everything is going well, so too is my marriage.
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