One of the most spectacular things an RPG can do is not only let you customize your character (or tell a riveting story with premade characters, as is often the case with JRPGs), but give you a world that reacts to your presence in it. Or, at the very least, make each playthrough feel distinct by your choices. One of the more notable RPGs in history is the classic PC release Fallout from Interplay, a post-apocalyptic yarn with colorful characters, goofy easter eggs, and a wacky personality that gave you the breadth to play straight laced or otherwise aloof. It was a sandbox with stories outpouring from its folds of character choice, sense of place, and general philosophy of being entertaining above all else.
West of Loathing is most certainly the child of Fallout, if not legitimately, then in spirit, turning the location-based RPG map and random encounters while traveling that Fallout so expertly used as its groundwork into an absurdist comedian's stage. As the title implies, you play a customized cowpoke who decides it's time to leave your mundane life behind and travel out west into the goofy world and find adventure. You can choose one of three classes, the warrior type Cow Puncher, the mage like Bean Slinger, and the ranger/rogue type Snake Oiler. Once set out, you'll learn that the world is in disarray since the cows came home, an event where cows (many of which are demonic) have overrun the desert and begun killing people and destroying their ranches. You'll search for perks like in Fallout, such as goblintongue, which lets you have hilarious conversations with the goblins rather than fighting them, or minesplainer, aquired by trying to bullshit your way through explaining how various mining equipment works, allowing you to get more XP and loot from mining equipment you forage through. While on your adventures, you'll come across all manner of oddities, from alien technology to necromancer cults, from ghosts to demonic clowns. The game takes you to inventive and often hilarious places throughout your playthrough.
And that is the strength of this game: its humor. The game is funny throughout, in just about every capacity. The combat, however, is probably its weakest attribute, but never so much that it particularly gets in the way of the game. The game is mercifully short, given how little depth combat provides, and ends just as it begins to feel it is wearing out its welcome (and if it hadn't by the end, as it did with me, a replay is incredibly rewarding for the different perks you can attain as you play). Leveling up isn't actually done by, well, level, but rather by spending XP points on upgrading particular abilities or your base stats Muscle (strength), Moxie (something to do with shooting), and Mysticality (intelligence). Other stats can be upgraded indirectly, such as speed or AP (being the currency for spells and buffs) by upgrading abilities. Certain abilities, such as lockpicking or foraging, must be learned from books and can be upgraded the same way or by XP spending. Unfortunately, many abilities don't scale well as you play, making them all but useless in later parts of the game, even when fully upgraded. Playing in the later part of the game as a Cow Puncher, I found that if I ran into a large group of enemies, I would have to use a large portion of my items to get through them without dying, rather than attempt any of my spells.
The "puzzle solving", as it were (although a more accurate description might be "involved questing"), often had me finding strange things in the world only to find a use for them later. For example, I found a fort populated with nerd-type NPCs playing a table top RPG (meta jokes galore), and after winning every scenario they could throw at me, they rewarded me with tiny, miniature guns (for tabletop models, of course). What the hell am I going to do with this? I thought of selling them, but as luck would have it I forgot they were in my inventory for the better part of 4 hours of gameplay. Eventually I stumble across this fort of drug taking campers absolutely high out of their mind (there are actually two such camps in the game, one more of a commune, the other literally just one big psychedelic party - I'm at the latter here). One person here stands in front of a table covered in shoes. I ask to buy shoes from him, but he tells me they aren't his. I ask whose are they, and he replies that he used to make shoes all the time, but now he'll be just standing there and shoes will appear in his hands. His theory was that elves were making them for him, and he wasn't comfortable selling them. So I tell him: why not sell them and let the people see what these elves can do? I happen to know of a vacant lot in the main town of the game, Dirtwater, where he can set up shop. He tells me he guesses that sounds like a pretty good idea, but what about the elves? What if they get into trouble following him out there? Without missing a beat, my character hands over the miniature guns so the elves can "protect themselves", and the tripping man is on his way to open a boot shop I can buy from for the rest of the game. The tiniest things in this game can find themselves interlocking in ridiculous ways, to the point I'm convinced one playthrough is far from enough to experience them all. And, because the game is light on actual RPG tactics and combat, the game can be goofier at giving you buffs, locations, or even new stores to buy from, because you aren't here for the challenge of the game: you're here for the experience of this weird and trippy world.
West of Loathing has one real issue, and that is that it has no ending because it isn't going anywhere. There is an ending, naturally, but getting there is inconsequential to just about anything else in the game. Though it feels aimless, that is also part of its charm. The snaking stories underneath the surface and the interlocking characters, items, and goofy repercussions to seemingly inconsequential actions are addictive and hilarious, and there isn't much more you could be asking for just $11. It's about digging in and seeing what you find, and it is always surprising, absurd, and irreverent.
8.5
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