Part turn-based RPG, part survival horror, with a dash of metroidvania thrown in, Look Outside has always been my favorite game. But where he stuck his ugly little hooks into me, there was such joyful punishment. My first playthrough quickly became a cacophony of mistakes, but each one shaped my adventure in ways I never expected.
You play as Sam: a regular dork who wakes up to find a massive cosmic entity scurrying right outside his apartment building, turning anyone who opens the curtains into big lumps of flesh and twitching eyeballs. This is a killer production, but somehow far from the strangest phenomena happening in this world. After Look Outside casually invited me to explore the interconnected layout of flesh-covered apartments, I became confused with babies made of teeth, sentient paintings, and even a bunch of human faces in the endless hallway dimension. It has as much love for grotesque body horror as it does cheesy silliness, and the atmosphere reeks of high-end B-movie comfort food.
But, despite all the stupidity and stupid characters, there is no idleness in it. Combat limits you to grueling turn-based battles that drain dwindling supplies of collected household resources. At the beginning you have no party members, and will continue to do so unless you can convince someone (or something) to watch your back. Endgame enemies don't avoid supposed “tutorial” zones, so be prepared to lose hours of progress after running headfirst into an exhausted zombie rat.
Cherry on top? It's all about the timer. 15 game days. And this happens as you explore. It's ruthless, and it doesn't help that Look Outside loves to force you to make mistakes. It's full of important decisions that could lead to life-changing consequences, and I made many about a bad choice.
Personally, my favorite thing to do was deal with the troubles of a talking tube that fell in love with my neighbor. In fact, it was a Shakespearean tragedy. The fainting plumber's name was Rafta, and she fell in love with a human boy, Nestor. “Wow, love can blossom even in a terrible nightmare,” I thought. I have to rekindle this romance! I found Nestor and convinced him to ask Rafta out. It was great… until Rafta turned out to be a parasitic worm and slithered into Nestor's eyeball, splitting it into fleshy pieces. Then, like the creature from the Thing, its dismembered head sprouted legs, ran upstairs, and ate Eugene, the friendly gun salesman on the second floor.
But I didn't restart. I wanted to see how Look Outside adapted to my mistakes. And it didn't disappoint. If I hadn't let Rafta bite off Nestor's eyeball, I wouldn't have met Kevin: the friendly worm that emerged from his mutated remains. And Kevin was a cool dude. I gave him worm eggs and he forged me a “worm crown” that fascinated me whenever I hit people.
And Kevin was the first of many silver linings. During the fight with the formidable Rat King on the first floor, I felt that I was not strong enough, so when the opportunity to bow to him presented itself, I took it. His answer? My hunched body vomited acid. It may have landed me in debuff hell and the bile forced me to gulp down supplies, but my respect earned me a king's crown after his demise, which I could use to chat with the local rat population. I also had a tendency to leave sandwiches under the refrigerator for the cockroaches to eat. Sure, I didn't have much to eat, but my fussy little buddies eventually turned into a very grateful mechanord cockroach with glasses and a cape that smoked demons.
I love the story created from my terrible mistakes. Moreover, I love that Look Outside is brave enough to let me eat enough crap to tell it.
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