![]() ![]() I picked up a knife, and even if it meant sacrificing one of my little grippin’ hands, it was worth it. I returned to the litter box and sat in that thing like it was a Jacuzzi. I wanted to be the bug juice at summer camp, spat in and salted to see if the teen counselor would prove to be a chump. I romped around in filth and smashed glass while skipping. I coated myself in a layer of grime, fish bones, egg shells and live bugs. Perfect timing, because I could no longer give a shit. After failing to make my way to a toaster multiple times, a magical jar of marmalade appeared to cut me a break, it granted me invincibility and infinite grip. The tough-love relationship between your movement and the camera angle helps no one’s patience. ![]() Your grip meter isn’t much more generous, making wall climbing feel not only routine but something you’d rather skip having to do. The dirtiness damage ramps up quickly for an edible without a brain, you are asked to think fast. It hits that blend, but not without admitting to its mistakes instead of fixing them. It also wants to be a daunting challenge, something daring to be sped-run. The story revolves around accidentally driving the owner of the home to seek therapy. It wants to be a dope like its peers Amazing Frog, Octodad and Goat Simulator, giving you a playground of nonsense toys to break. I am Bread is hoping for the best of a couple worlds, tough and silly, white and whole wheat, rye and ciabatta. Perfect timing, because I could no longer give a shit The floors and walls between you and that toaster feel bigger and more despicable and much dirtier. You can only grapple your way around, like the squiddly-doos of Octodad and Mount Your Friends, but you also have limited grip. Your little slice of life has many limitations. This was the most entertaining of my attempts. I break a jar of strawberry jam open, and upon latching on to one of the shards, the kinetic energy of the game’s rubber-band physics launched me straight through the air, across the room, netting me an achievement and landing me into a litter box. It isn’t full of deathtraps but it does have dirt, ants, dust. I am bread, and I am terrible at being bread.īetween me and the toaster is a kitchen. I am that-I don’t know-goat, from Goat Simulator, bringer of destruction and schadenfreude. I am Luxo Jr., the animated and curious Pixar office lamp that makes something you buy from Staples-an empathic character through its motion. I am determined to become toast, find a heat source so as to roast my buns and become a part of this balanced breakfast. I am a slice of bread, wedged in between the bulk of the loaf and that weird end piece your dad eats. ![]()
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