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WATTAM REVIEW GAME STORY When Katamari released back in 2004 it surprised players and critics with its playful mechanics, chaotic fun, and a soundtrack that has since embedded itself in the brains of all who played it. It was an energetic and colourful bolt from the blue. It's creator, Keita Takahashi, was launched into the games industry spotlight and, alongside his game Noby Noby Boy, became known for his imagination and surreal humour. Although both Katami and Noby Noby Boy released over a decade ago, Takahashi's next game, Wattam, has the same free-spirited and playful sense of fun. In Wattam you play as the Mayor, a green cube wearing a black bowler hat who sports a dapper moustache. But as happy as a fancy bowler hat and a moustache would make me, the Mayor in Wattam is far from happy. At the beginning of the game, he is the sole character in a dark and empty world. But then a tiny pebble named David appears and the two make quick friends. As the two are playing tag a rock named Robert spurts from the ground and joins in the fun. More and more objects keep arriving and, before you know it, the world of Wattam is thriving with loads of cute, everyday objects. As each character joins the ever-growing community, you have the ability to control whoever you like, from Michelle the small but spritely acorn, to a giant table called Malcolm. Some of Wattam's characters are blessed with special abilities. For example, if you control the onion you'll make characters cry as you run past them, or you have the ability to grab and flush characters if you play as the toilet. You can play as a huge tree that sucks characters into its mouth and then they grow back as fruit. That's one of the weirder ones. Even if a character doesn't have a special ability, everyone has the option of using the Q and E keys to hold hands with anyone and the ability to climb. When you're busy controlling one character, the others just goof around. They climb on top of each other, hang out in groups, and aimlessly run around. It's like watching a group of toddlers and super adorable—apart from Kyle, the huge gaping mouth with its tongue hanging out that chases after the food characters, he needs to chill out. Chill out, Kyle. The mayor has the best ability, though. Hidden underneath that shiny bowler hat is a special surprise—it's a bomb! This is a game by Takahashi here, so it's a fun bomb. Characters explode into the sky with a burst of colour and confetti and land in a fit of delightful giggles. After your vibrant display, they'll actively run up to you shouting "Kaboom!" demanding to be launched sky high once again. Takahashi has created this bonkers box of fun objects to play with, but there's also a story. The Mayor and all the characters of this world have forgotten why they were all separated from each other in the first place, and this reason slowly reveals itself as more objects return to join in the fun. This story pops its head in a couple of times and wraps up nicely in the finale, but your main activity revolves around helping characters solve their problems. These storylines are a little less post-apocalyptic and more Saturday morning cartoon. They rarely last over ten minutes and focus on topics like helping Deborah the balloon overcome her fear of heights or helping a telephone find it's lost receiver. Its stories are fun and childlike. The main purpose of the game is simply to make friends and have fun, which I think is lovely but will, no doubt, not be for everyone. I did run into a few hitches. The controls on PC can be a bit finicky, and I had a constant battle with the camera controls in particular. Trying to hold down the right mouse button and move it smoothly without it getting caught on characters or moving off my mouse mat was a struggle. In the (very few) moments where I had to move it quickly, moving the camera became frustrating. The one mechanic that I thought would be a nightmare is the climbing, but all the characters I controlled had no problem flinging themselves at an obstacle and ascending to great heights while I pressed the up key. When creating Katamari, Takahashi said in an interview that he wanted to capture the fun of when a child rolls a ball. With Wattam, it's like an open toy box. You gather all the fruit together and have them form a single giant tower or you could go nick the Mayor's hat and make a toilet wear it instead. When a new character is introduced you want to play with it immediately. What does the desk fan character do? It creates a gust of air, that's kinda neat, now I want to run around knocking over all the other characters with my powerful wind powers. It's the same feeling of when you first honk in Untitled Goose Game, it's finding the fun in silliness. With Wattam, Takahashi has proven that he still places fun above all else, and even after a decade, it's still a refreshing perspective.

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MOSAIC REVIEW GAME STORY You wake up. You grab your phone to switch off the alarm, then stare blearily at it until you're already late for work. You brush your teeth, making eye contact in the bathroom mirror with the hollowed-out thing you've become. As game loops go, it's not exactly shoot, reposition, reload, is it? But then, this is pretty much Mosaic's sales pitch: forget the straightforward thrills of action and/or adventure, here's a game that simulates the tedious grind of everyday life. Using point-and-click controls, you drag your character—an anonymous office worker with a wonky tie, a smartphone and not much else in the way of a discernible personality—through this loop five times, a full working week of low-level misery. Which raises the question: why would you want a second life that's just as rubbish as the first? If Mosaic was able to answer for itself, I suspect it'd be a mumble about art and mirrors and reflecting reality. And there are some sharply observed moments here, like the daily elevator ride you share with two strangers. The only control you have over your character is which way he looks, and if you so much as glance in a stranger's direction, they'll do everything in their power to avoid meeting your eyes. At which point, you realise there is actually a second thing you can do: whip your phone out, and stare at that instead. At which point, maybe you'll open up BlipBlop, probably the single most barbed bit of satire in the entire game. BlipBlop is one of the apps preloaded on your in-game phone, a clicker game with all of the theming ripped clean out to expose its inner workings: flashing lights and pleasing bloops and numbers that keep getting bigger. It is, without any pretence, a hole to pour your time into, a button to hurt your fingers on. And yet it still completely works. I wince at how much of the four hours I spent with Mosaic was dicking around about on my phone instead of getting on with the day. There you go. That's the big message Mosaic has to impart. Modern life, eh? We're all scared of one another and we're always looking at our screens. Bitcoin! It's not wrong, exactly, but I'm not sure it ever cuts any deeper than Daniel Ortberg's withering Black Mirror synopsis, "what if phones but too much". Being fair for a moment, this does mean Mosaic has something to say. But it feels thin here because the entire game is just a housing for this message. Mosaic is a point-and-click adventure, but I use that last word under advisement. There are no real puzzles to speak of, or gags and insights to be accessed by clicking on background details. For the most part, you move from left to right as the story happens, like scrubbing through a YouTube video. There are exceptions, mind. Every day, when you arrive at work, Mosaic switches from its 2.5D world to a flat hex-based grid. Your character's office job is apparently playing a very simple strategy game, where you build outwards and upwards until you reach a given milestone and clock off. It's a decent evocation of the daily grind without actually forcing you to type numbers into a spreadsheet, even if it's ill-explained and undeveloped as a game in its own right. Which might be a stroke of genius, the game standing in for your job being just slightly less compelling than the blatant dopamine feeder that is BlipBlop. And then there are the occasional bright spots you find along your commute. I mean bright literally—sudden bursts of colour and rounded shapes that disrupt the game's tightly-controlled visuals, as you watch a butterfly or listen to a street musician or just sink into your own imagination. These moments are presented as off the beaten path, and some of them even are, toying with those well-trained gamer instincts that, if you're supposed to go right, you should try heading left first. Your efforts will be rewarded with a flash of striking imagery: yer man floating in a sunset, a thousand miles away from the grey tones of real life, or fantasising about a distant office complex crumbling like the end of Fight Club. If I had to make a case for the monotonous second life of Mosaic, these moments would be my Exhibit A. Because this is an undeniably eye-catching game. Mosaic's house style is minimalist: limited palette, deliberately low-poly models, a smooth blank where everyone except your character's face should be. This is pretty much the modern indie-game school uniform, a sampling of visual ideas you might've seen in Ashen and Absolver and Inside, but it works. And then, vitally, Mosaic breaks those rules, messing with the shape of your character or casting dusty sunbeams more textured than the surfaces they land on or just introducing some damned colour to proceedings. The overall effect is of a particularly well-made Radiohead fan video. As someone who spent most of their teens on long meaningful walks with Kid A in the headphones, I don't even necessarily mean that as a bad thing. But it might grate on you. There's an eagerness, in Mosaic's presentation and its experiments with repetition, to constantly remind you that this is art, actually. And yet its grand thematic underpinnings, you could fit into a tweet—one with the old 140 character limit, even. So you might consider that question, why you'd want to live someone else's tedious life and conclude that, frankly, you don't. And you wouldn't be wrong, exactly. But Mosaic is at least an occasionally fascinating way of boring yourself.