Released: March 13 2009
Developer: Infinite Interactive
Verdict: Guilty of 1st degree mind rape
Pros: It is technically a game
Cons: Everything else
Have you ever gotten the urge to uppercut a game cartridge into the sun? If you don’t want to burn with the rage of a thousand supernovae, then I would suggest you stay lightyears away from Puzzle Quest: Galactrix.
It’s tough to know where to begin when a game jams it’s middle finger directly into your brain and then throws napalm into the hole. It sort of scrambles your thought process. I say this because Puzzle Quest: Galactrix is not simply a terrible game; it’s a forgery, an impostor. It is one thing to have a negative experience with a game. It’s another to feel lied to and stolen from.
When you go into a store looking for Puzzle Quest: Galactrix, you are likely to find it in the puzzle section if there is one, and the RPG section if there isn’t. The game purports to a hybrid of both, which seemed fantastic to this reviewer pre-release. Hell, the game is called Puzzle Quest. I possess a deep affection for both of the experiences that name implies. It is infuriatingly ironic then that Galactrix is actually neither of these. Sure, the game is played on a “puzzle board” and contains elements we might associate with the RPG genre, but it’s all a ruse.
The crux of Galactrix pits the player against an enemy combatant, and each player takes turns manipulating a Hexic-style, match-three puzzle. The Puzzle Quest take is that each different matched group has a different effect on the overall game, the goal of which is to destroy the enemy’s ship. Matching bombs deal damage, blue pieces bolster your shields, and the remaining colors go towards powering weapons and generating “EXP” to level up your character. Weapons and items are used in conjunction with or in lieu of your turn and have their own unique effects like dealing damage or skipping an opponent’s turn. The twist for Galactrix is that the way the empty slots in the board are filled is determined by the direction in which you swap gems in the first place. It all seems rather deep, clever, and fascinating at first.
That is, until you realize it’s all bullshit. The majority of the time, you will be wiping the floor with grunts that require no strategy or thought whatsoever. That would be fine if this game was Streets of Rage, but it’s supposed to be a Puzzle/RPG remember? Even more frustrating are the times when the game decides to throw a boss battle at you. Instead of a crafted encounter meant to challenge specific skills and planning, you get an enemy that is arbitrarily 30 or 40 levels higher than you with ships and weapons well beyond yours. The table are turned and now you’re the grunt in the situation, and the only way to win is through sheer luck.
The randomness comes from the way the board is filled in when you clear pieces during your turn. No matter how well thought out your initial move is, the quality of the outcome is determined by what the game decides to send in from off-screen – either giving you game-changing combos and multipliers, or conversely, setting your opponent up perfectly for their turn. It has the dual effect of being frustrating when luck works against you, and unrewarding when things finally do go your way. In Galactrix, you can be playing a perfect game, taking no damage, and after whittling down a boss’ health for fifteen minutes, he kills you in one super-lucky turn. The only way to win a boss battle is to try over and over again – perhaps fifty times or more at around fifteen minutes per attempt – until Galactrix decides to give you a lucky break. There’s no satisfaction in victory, because you never had much to do with it in the first place.
The only thing that could take randomness out of the equation are the items, but unfortunately they are powered by the outcome on the board, which if you will recall is driven by chance. I once had to fight a boss who had an item that allowed him four consecutive turns. In those turns, he would deal plenty of damage, recharge his shields, and regain the ammunition to use it again next time around. I essentially got one turn to his four, and had access to nothing even close to that power. Having about half of his health and strength to begin with, no amount of strategy and skill could overcome that gap.
There are a few variations on the main puzzle that are used to accomplish things like open gateways or craft items, and each are annoying and repetitive in their own way. And speaking of annoying and repetitive: the loading times.
Virtually everything you do in Puzzle Quest: Galactrix initiates a five-to-seven second saving/loading screen. I put tens of hours into this game for the review, and I spent no less than 25% of that staring at a black screen. It’s the worst I’ve ever seen, and so bad, I’m almost convinced it’s some kind of sick joke. It is absolutely rediculous, especially considering how simple and uninspired Galactrix is graphically.
As if the worst loading times ever and a dice roll masquerading as a puzzle game weren’t bad enough, the touch controls don’t even work right half the time. At first I thought it was just me, but it seems I’m not alone. Galactrix frequently misinterpreted my inputs, which wouldn’t be so frustrating if they didn’t cause you to lose a turn and five health for it.
Seriously. The game doesn’t work right, and it punishes you for it.
At this point, a decent RPG story wouldn’t be enough to save Galactrix, but it doesn’t even have that. It’s a predictable cliche built on garbage, filler dialogue. They know it’s terrible too, which is why there is a “skip” button available during every cut-scene. It may just be the most thoughtful feature in the game.
So what we get is a puzzle game where thinking is irrelevant, with superficial RPG elements that also don’t matter. I am a huge fan of the two genres Puzzle Quest: Galactrix claims to be, and there is no one more likely to be forgiving of its faults in order to find its redeeming qualities. Unfortunately, there are none.
I have never been so angry or disgusted while playing a game in my entire life. I’m sure you can tell.
Popularity: unranked [?]
