McPixel Review

In the 19th century, right, you'd go out to harpoon a whale, but the whale wouldn't necessarily die. Not straight away, at least. It would have ideas of its own, see, and it's surprisingly easy to prosecute your own ideas when you're a whale.

So the whale would accept the harpoon - no choice there - but then you were its prisoner: it was free to go racing across the frothing seas, bouncing you around helplessly in its wake. The energy! This was called the Nantucket sleigh-ride, because it was, well, a bit like a sleigh-ride, and because chances were good that if you'd just harpooned a whale, you probably came from Nantucket. The whole thing sort of reminds me of McPixel.

Or maybe McPixel's more like a stand-up comedy show, actually. One of the mad, hectic, breathless ones. Not all the jokes work and not all the connections make perfect sense, but that's the idea: it's about the force of the thing, the speed of the thing, the inventiveness, the haphazardness, the fact that there's no time to pause and reflect.

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