Okay, it’s all because of my awful cock-handedness and disregard for keyboard mastery in general, REALLY. No, it is; it really is and I know it. Still, I played through a significant amount of Prism Panic and only converted mild frustration into mouth farts about twice. Alright, more like 10 times, you cruel, merciless interrogators! This is the latest indie publishing on [adultswim] Games, which is a superior games portal, and this time they’ve mixed things up with a 2D platformer….hey, wait a minute! I’ve played loads of these games and they’re ALWAYS the same. And boring – they’re tiresome. If you thought that just then, you’re naughty and will be punished by the indie game deity that watches over your soul. Punished you will be, heathen!
“Prism Panic is a platformer about overlapping worlds with holes between them. Each world has different mirrored traits, creating some interesting puzzles and platforming.”
What is Prism Panic? That’s a good question that’s best answered with a link. Which one? Oh, you’re full of it! You know what – untie me from this chair and stop poking me with knives and I MAY just be a little bit more generous with my information. Have you ever thought about that? Oh, yeah, well, you could kill me, in theory, but then you’d never get the link you’re after, would you? Exactly. So untie me and…ooh, that feels so good on the wrist. Aw, yeah! Right, here’s your link, so go and play it and have fun, you crazy kids.
Prism Panic has a tutorial level in which you chase a large prism across grass and down large drops. It’s quite fun and feels like a dog chasing whatever dogs chase, and the promise that lies in your doggy eyes is that this object that is capable of warping time and space would taste great should you get your hungry chops around its nimble corners. Everything you need to know about operating the game with your fingers is provided right there and then, which is handy, but it doesn’t inform you that colliding with said prism will cause a rupture unlike anything you’ve ever seen before! Actually, the effect is a little bit like other platformers that use different dimensions within the same space, but that’s not the point. What’s important is that you’ve got some restoration to do, and that involves jumping and dashing better than what you can do with that ganky right hand of yours on those arrow keys.
There are four worlds with different aesthetics and visual makeup in Prism Panic, but they’re not really all that different from each other mechanically. The rupture you’ve caused is one that sees holes in the background appear, and going inside these essentially means stepping into a darker place. Grass is swapped for spikes, cute smiles are exchanged for gobbling tentacles – you know, the usual trip through your local supermarket. The gist of it is that you’ll die in these dark blotches of levels, so try to avoid them if you can. And if you can’t, you better start whacking down on that X key because dashing through them is the best way. Sometimes it’s not sheer stupidity/bravery that’s required, but timing instead as they shift and move their positioning on the level. Most of the time this means that sometimes a platform has spikes on it, and sometimes it’s safe. Pretty much.
There’s lots of different creatures through the levels too, and it’s fun to sit just outside of a dark patch and watch as something horrific charges at you with a bloodcurdling look in its eye to them turn into a fluffy teddy bear inches away from its murderous conclusion of you. Prism Panic isn’t about teasing deadly monsters, though; it’s about dashing through and past them as quick as you can and wall jumping. Yes, jumping on a wall, up a wall and from wall-to-wall. Most of the time you’ll be jumping up the same wall as opposed to between walls, which means you have a little more control over what you’re doing, and I prefer that. I still die like an arse, though. Quite a bit, but it’s probably due to a mistiming rather than a trip of a finger. Honest.
I end this by saying the following: Noel Berry, Connor Ullman, you are tremendous bastards and your game hates me, apparently. But I love it. Thus our relationship is one of abuse hurled in my direction from its design and masochist biddings returned as an overhead volley from myself. 30 to Love may be the score, but I’ll pull it back once I can dash better. Probably not, actually. I like the teddy bears, though.