Me and My Katamari on the PSP is fucking great. The King of Space is fucking great. He talks in such a badass way and you can see the outline of his royal penis through his snugly fitting velour day suit. Also, he says Johnson on the loading screen and Johnson is a fucking great word for penis. It’s fucking great.
I play my PSP on the train to work every day. I played Everybody’s Golf and I did some Riiiiidge Racer and Disgaea and a few Phantasy Stars and ooh, everything. During all of these I remained calm and peaceful while I quietly went about my business of hitting balls and driving a car sideways and levelling up and levelling up and levelling up and levelling up.
Me and My Katamari has me sweating and swearing (good swearing, like you do when you see some tits) and laughing and my eyes go all googly like that guy in Total Recall when his eyes go all googly because he’s dying.
You roll shit up into a big ball and then you roll bigger shit up into a bigger ball and hey, you probably know all this already because you are just so great. It’s got millions of cute little touches absolutely everywhere. In fact it is basically just a great big cute little touch, burnt onto a hastily rebranded Minidisc and lovingly applied to the underside of your most portable of PlayStations.
If you are in any way unhappy, Me and My Katamari will make you happy again. And I don’t just mean if you’re feeling glum. Severe schizophrenics, sociopaths, the criminally deranged and even that guy who’s got you nailed to a chair in his basement right now will be rendered harmless and docile by the unbound pleasure gun of Me and My Katamari. I’m a Doctor and I mean this.
But let’s say that you’re already happy. Perhaps you’ve just won the lottery with numbers you found inside Christina Aguilera. Perhaps the Ferrari you ordered came with a second free Ferrari with wheels made from Hitler’s lungs and seats that are a really nice colour. Perhaps you’ve just discovered that you can see the outline of the King of Space’s penis through his snugly fitting velour day suit. I’m in no position to say.
If you find yourself encumbered with this level of gigantic happiness, then I have just the tonic: Innocent Life on the PSP. It’s so fucking sad. I don’t know if it’s possible to express how sad it is. Really fucking sad. Seriously.
Everyone lives in this cool little town by the sea. Everyone, that is, except you. Despite being a pre-pubescent boy, you live on your own, outside town. In some ruins. On a farm.
All the other kids go to school and hang out and play games and you work from six in the morning on a farm, hoeing and breaking up rocks with a hammer and sowing crops and watering crops and harvesting crops and cutting up logs.
You’re like, maybe nine years old.
And you’re not even a real boy. You’re a fucking robot boy. And if you do go into the school to try and gain some short, sweet solace from the endless solitude, desperate loneliness and back breaking labour you’ve been cruelly assigned, you discover that reading books is pointless because you already know everything in them, because you’re a robot boy. So you can’t even pretend you aren’t exquisitely aware of your predicament – the only one of your race, trapped in an endless life of hard labour, utilising almost none of the vast repository of knowledge stored in your robot brain. On your own. In some ruins. On a farm.
When you’ve finished your chores, you’re free to walk around the Island – everyone else has cars, you can walk. Or you can watch TV. There are four programs. One is the weather forecast. One is a really terrible version of the Power Rangers. One is a cartoon about – I can hardly bring myself to say this – a kitten that’s lost its mummy. A kitten that’s lost its mummy! And the last one is a cookery program. You can watch it and learn cooking, but as you live on your own, outside town, in some ruins, on a farm, you can only cook for yourself.
It’s utterly and totally heartbreaking.
Every Sunday, you go back to your ‘Dad’, the professor that built you. Every Sunday he gives you a check up and pronounces you fit and well enough to go back to the farm and spend the next week farming, on your own, again. Every week you want him to take you up in his arms and hug you and tell you it’ll all be fine and never let go. And every week he sends you back to the farm unhugged, untouched, unloved. Again.
Oh Christ, look at me now. No, just leave me be. I’ll be fine.
Overall, I would give this game 10/10