The definitive argument against video game cutscenes, like, in general. On top of the awkwardness of it all- ugly character designs, stilted dialog, everyone prancing back and forth like they just dropped out of Foodfight!- the framing of an otherwise generic relationship simulator as a marriage does more harm than good, since completing this game requires about as much trust and communication as a corporate teambuilding exercise. Sure, I can skewer my wife with a giant nail or hop off the button that's holding up a bridge as she's trying to cross it, but how much does that actually mean for our relationship if I only do it because I know she's going to respawn next to me in two seconds? I hate to say it, but universal splitscreen also seems like a mistake, since conflict resolution isn't really an issue when both parties can, in the most literal sense possible, see from the other's point-of-view. In general, the game lives up to its premise as an anything-goes platformer much more than it does its premise as a co-op platformer, considering the most entertaining bits in here tend to be the stuff that's just fun to mess around with, even if it doesn't necessarily Take Two. On one hand, it's hard not to appreciate this much dedication to breadth over depth, and riffing with a pal and calling out every video game trope as it happens is far from an unenjoyable experience, but I can't help feeling like the game's reception mostly stems from how undersaturated the market is. If it ends up inspiring a wave of strictly co-op titles now that the genre has proven itself to be critically and commercially viable, I could see this game quote-unquote "aging poorly" ten years down the line. Not because it actually has, of course, but because, aside from the novelty of playing something this accessible, with this much varied, well-put-together content, all while tethered to another person, It Takes Two... was never really all that interesting in the first place. But maybe I'm just bitter that I lost at that volleyball minigame.