And although it’s never subtle, and rests too much on hillbilly and redneck cliches, Maneater saves more than enough of its all-purpose scorn for the wealthy parts of Port Clovis and its wide expanses of golf courses, McMansions, and private boat docks.ĭespite that hint of class consciousness, don’t expect any thoughtful analysis of politics here, or any discussion of the environmental crisis, animal rights, or urban planning, beyond cynical jokes. Some of his lines repeat too often (although nowhere near as bad as that sea bass joke in Animal Crossing: New Horizons), and many of the jokes are total groaners or tedious stabs at South Park-style satire, but Parnell adds a vital bit of charm to the game. Some of it’s legitimately funny, no doubt in part to Parnell’s delivery-he’s always excelled as the sober, serious authority figure who confidently announces complete nonsense. This cynical humor recalls the noxious attitude of the Grand Theft Auto games, although it’s not nearly as oppressive and all-encompassing here. It’s a cartoon stereotype of a sprawling Southern city, a New Orleans or Houston where class divisions are stark, everybody’s selfish and thoughtless, and concern for the environment is nonexistent. Port Clovis, the fictional coastal city it’s set in, is developed through the frequent narration of Chris Parnell, of Saturday Night Live, 30 Rock and Rick and Morty fame. Speaking of the game’s world, Maneater isn’t just concerned about life in the water. Maneater is mercifully shorter than that, by a significant degree, which is one of its strengths, but it’s still too easy to fall into that rigid pattern when playing it. They become mechanical, repetitive, unimaginative: do this, then do this, then do this, for about 40 hours or so, until all the doing has been done. They become less about the experience of playing them, and less about the story and the world, and more about just checking things off a list. There’s a common complaint about this type of game-action RPGs, if you want to call it that, or whatever your term of choice is for games that closely follow the Ubisoft template as seen in Assassin’s Creed and Far Cry games. I never feel lost or like I’m wasting my time, unless I intentionally want to waste time. When I want to get moving and see what comes next, I can check out that map, power through a few missions, and be on my way. Always knowing where I have to go and what I have to do can keep me focused and on track. This deeply conventional structure can be a blessing and a curse. Feel free to make whatever puns or jokes would make you happy. She swims around tackling different missions and sidequests based around the mechanic of eating, unlocking new parts of the Gulf en route to an inevitable showdown with the shark hunter who gutted her mom. She can even access an in-game map, which helpfully marks every goal and item with a different icon. Eating turtles, barracudas and other creatures earns her not just experience, but an array of other collectibles, which can be used to power up various skills she unlocks as she matures. As she cuts through the murky swamp water, feasting on docile wildlife and occasionally battling with more aggressive species, she grows larger and more powerful, one level at a time. The star of Maneater is a bull shark ripped from her mother’s belly as a baby and left to fend for herself in the wetlands of the Gulf of Mexico. These shark fights are the best thing about this weird, ambitious, and inconsistent game, which can veer from disappointing to exciting within seconds. Maneater reinforces the life-and-death struggle of these undersea squabbles by making me really feel them. When we’re evenly matched, these little duels can go on for minutes when I’m trying to eat up a beast that’s bigger or stronger than me, I have to resort to guerrilla tactics, ambushing them from out of the seaweed, and regularly making short tactical retreats to swallow down some grouper or catfish to regain strength. Every time I try to munch on an alligator or mako I have to beat my controller into submission, pounding on the shoulder trigger to take a bite, and then immediately smashing the right joystick to flip around and keep my prey in sight. Sharks might be efficient killing machines, but trying to play as one can be hell on your hands and your DualShock. I’ve never had to wrestle with a controller as strenuously as I do in Maneater.
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