Giving the player the opportunity to control a terrifying and foreboding fleshy monstrosity, picking off your targets with the animalistic brutality of a pack of hungry lions - much akin to the thing from 'The Thing' or the alien from 'Alien' - Carrion has a fairly unique premise that made me eager to play the game from the day I'd heard of it. Sadly, fails to fully capitalise on the idea's potential.
I feel your mileage for this game will hinge almost entirely on how gratifying you find mindless violence and gore. Personally, I stopped playing with my food barely an hour into the game, when I realised that the enemies are little more than screaming health kits. There is no lore, no dialogue, no justification behind what is happening in this game, outside a handful of "memory" sequences, which were similarly plot anaemic. Novelty can wear thin, and there wasn't a shred of it left come the time the credits to Carrion finally rolled. Encounters and gauntlets quickly become a mere routine that no amount of upgrades could obfuscate. There's only so many times you can hit the same pinata before every last piece of candy has fallen out.
With each level being a samey-looking environment with little to no unique identifying landmarks, and no map to speak of, I found myself completely lost for progress for much of my playthrough. The spritework is stunningly detailed, but none of it clicked with me to a point where I was in awe with what I was looking at. It mostly blurred together as a grossly busy pastiche of repeating assets, vents and corridors. I don't think I ever found myself sure of my place on the map, convincing myself that any step forward I manage to make is by complete coincidence.
The puzzles in this game are impressive, but I can't help but find the size requirements to most of them to be a complete hindrance to the pacing. Pacing back and forward, to and from a blood pool to shrink yourself down so you can use a different set of abilities, then doing the same to size back up. I'm amazed I had the patience.
I can't exactly place why, but Carrion reminds me so much of the PS1 Oddworld games to the point where I wish I was playing those instead. Slig Barracks music played in my head throughout the armory section.
I feel your mileage for this game will hinge almost entirely on how gratifying you find mindless violence and gore. Personally, I stopped playing with my food barely an hour into the game, when I realised that the enemies are little more than screaming health kits. There is no lore, no dialogue, no justification behind what is happening in this game, outside a handful of "memory" sequences, which were similarly plot anaemic. Novelty can wear thin, and there wasn't a shred of it left come the time the credits to Carrion finally rolled. Encounters and gauntlets quickly become a mere routine that no amount of upgrades could obfuscate. There's only so many times you can hit the same pinata before every last piece of candy has fallen out.
With each level being a samey-looking environment with little to no unique identifying landmarks, and no map to speak of, I found myself completely lost for progress for much of my playthrough. The spritework is stunningly detailed, but none of it clicked with me to a point where I was in awe with what I was looking at. It mostly blurred together as a grossly busy pastiche of repeating assets, vents and corridors. I don't think I ever found myself sure of my place on the map, convincing myself that any step forward I manage to make is by complete coincidence.
The puzzles in this game are impressive, but I can't help but find the size requirements to most of them to be a complete hindrance to the pacing. Pacing back and forward, to and from a blood pool to shrink yourself down so you can use a different set of abilities, then doing the same to size back up. I'm amazed I had the patience.
I can't exactly place why, but Carrion reminds me so much of the PS1 Oddworld games to the point where I wish I was playing those instead. Slig Barracks music played in my head throughout the armory section.