There are things this game does that I actually really love. It has moments of a Gnog-like playfulness where it rewards a player's organic exploration of the surface of the game (roll a big snowball! surf on a surfboard!). At times it really seems to prioritize the texture of play as a way to showcase the haptic capabilities of the new controller. The monkey suit could be an entire little game on its own.
The problem is that these moments of genuine joy are drowning in a pro forma V I D E O G A M E that's full of enemies, platforming, and levels. What's worse, the entire thing is just a huge advertisement for the PS5. Its existence on the console by default and for free casts small and playful games as valueless relative to the AAA content behemoths that are the PlayStation's stock in trade these days, and its ceaseless references to Sony's history are heartbreaking in light of its destaffing of the Japanese teams that made the very games it lionizes.
More than anything, Astro's Playground makes me feel melancholy. It's a glimpse at a crossroads where the route has already been chosen, and so in a way it's a eulogy for the path the industry refused to take.
The problem is that these moments of genuine joy are drowning in a pro forma V I D E O G A M E that's full of enemies, platforming, and levels. What's worse, the entire thing is just a huge advertisement for the PS5. Its existence on the console by default and for free casts small and playful games as valueless relative to the AAA content behemoths that are the PlayStation's stock in trade these days, and its ceaseless references to Sony's history are heartbreaking in light of its destaffing of the Japanese teams that made the very games it lionizes.
More than anything, Astro's Playground makes me feel melancholy. It's a glimpse at a crossroads where the route has already been chosen, and so in a way it's a eulogy for the path the industry refused to take.