I somehow have ninety hours in Mewgenics, a game that I’m pretty sure only came out a few hours ago. I love spending my every waking moment discovering just how deep this turn-based tactics game is, all while ignoring requests to play from my actual IRL cats. Sorry Cordelia and Drusilla, but until either of you can provide a decent tank build, well, frankly, you’re lucky I’m still feeding you.
One of the things I love about the game is how it handles side quests. Occasionally the neighborhood’s resident mad scientist will give you equipment in exchange for some of your most mutated cats (try not to think about what he’s doing with them, you’ll sleep better). This equipment has awful debuffs, like turning all your cats’ level up rewards into disorders instead, or causing them to permanently die whenever they’re downed.
Why would you ever put your poor kitties through such pain? Because if you manage to reach the end of a run with them equipped you’ll be rewarded with an excellent piece of gear. Like a stopwatch that lets you take an extra turn or a mirror that reflects projectiles. Toys like that can be absolute game-changers in some of the game’s brick-wallier boss battles.
Adding stranger win conditions also keeps runs feeling fresh. I only got that lovely stopwatch by equipping the broken stopwatch, which forces you to make a decision in five seconds or the AI takes over. Mewgenics temporarily turned me, one of the slowest gamers in human history, into a speedrunner. I’m still surprised by how much I loved that.
Which is why I decided to try a run with ‘bubble boy’. This item causes all units, friend and foe, to be pushed back five tiles on contact. How could pinballing cats around the arena be anything but a good time? I made sure to have a healer in my party and carry a few items that could resurrect downed cats, then confidently began my latest adventure.
I think I realised something was amiss when one of my cats exploded. See, turns out in my excitement to try a debuff run, I’d accidentally also equipped throbbing gristle. That’s a main quest item that causes your cats to die permanently when downed. Oops
Which meant I now had three meowing ming vases who were going to suicidally slam against the walls if something so much as coughed near them. And turns out bringing a tank with you that specialises in knockback attacks isn’t a great strategy when any unit you hit will just bounce back in your fragile face.
Astonishingly, I did manage to keep one cat alive all the way to the first checkpoint where you can abort the run and retire. I don’t think I’ve ever yelled “YES” at an ‘are you sure?’ screen louder in my life.
But what a rush! Mewgenics didn’t need a shot in the arm, but felt incredible to play with one. I started sifting through other quest items and imagining comboing them with each other. I found two items that both had to be brought to the moon, an area only slightly easier to reach in Mewgenics than it is in real life.
One was the scalding orb, which you have to toss between your cats regularly, or they’ll suffer three stacks of burn. The other item was the party detonator, which like the throbbing gristle makes cats die as soon as they’re downed, though this time with an adorable explosion of confetti. Cute/horrific!
I decided to bring two butchers with me, as their ability to hack food out of enemies is great for restoring health. I also chose a tank unit who could withstand a beating and a necromancer who could raise the dead because… actually, I guess I didn’t think that one through. Whatever. My first fight began and I started off by having my tank toss the scalding orb to my necromancer. At which point the game told me I’d just broken the party detonator.
Turns out cats can only accept the orb if they have a free weapon slot. So I had to quit and save scum, earning me a berating and a warning. Lesson learned, I jumped back in and tried to toss the orb to one of my butchers instead. Which I couldn’t. Because they were both carrying meat hooks. They’re always carrying meat hooks. It’s kind of the butcher’s whole deal. Oh Christ.
Desperate to get things back on track, on the Necromancer’s turn I decided to use the party detonator. It can be activated once per battle to insta-kill a random unit. “I assume it only applies to enemy units,” I thought, as I pressed the button and watched one of my cats go boom, complete with confetti shower and party blower noise.
I wish I could tell you that this was the last of the nasty surprises. But when Mewgenics tells you something is going to explode, you really should believe it, because that confetti explosion was as devastating as a grenade. My tank and my remaining butcher didn’t have the luxury of ranged attacks, so every kill they scored was rewarded with a deadly confetti blast to the face. And considering my tank was burning more with every turn, it was basically a lit firework.
Pretty soon I had just two cats left against one remaining enemy and I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist using the party detonator again. A friend told me her favourite thing about a doomed Mewgenics run is when she starts essentially hammering the Russian roulette button over and over and I suffer from the same curse. Besides, I had a fifty-fifty chance of blowing up our last foe and finishing the battle immediately. Who could resist that?
Yes, of course my cat exploded. Shut up. As for the lone survivor, I’m proud to say they lived a long and happy life while I went off to make a cup of tea. Tea obtained, I started the next battle and watched them turn into confetti in about four turns. They shall be missed.
Sorry if this has read like the deranged ramblings of a would-be serial killer—a common problem with my PC Gamer pieces—but there are genuine benefits to playing Mewgenics with both arms tied behind your back. Its evil equipment isn’t just for sadomasochists. That bubble boy item also starred in one of my most blessed runs ever, where I often got to just sit back and watch the bosses bounce themselves into oblivion. The glass cannon covers the floor in broken glass, but remember, your enemies also have to walk across that.
Mewgenics is a ridiculously generous game that rewards experimentation. And at least has the decency to make the results hilarious when those experiments blow up in a shower of cheerful confetti. Do you have a cursed Mewgenics story? I’d love to hear it in the comments. And not just to help me feel a little less guilty…
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