At first it seems overly prescriptive that you can only jump when a button prompt appears on a nearby ledge, box or pipe, with a successful landing guaranteed. You might pause to lap at pools of water, or employ a tree trunk as a handy scratch post, in between bouts of leaping up steps and across gaps.
Next morning you venture out with your crew, leaves still dripping from last night’s downpour.
#Rusty bucket menu full#
These interactions are full of recognisable details-the way ears flick and rotate, the stretch routines-and if you like cats (as I do), Stray should have you at “meow”. As the game opens, your gang waits out a storm in a concrete shelter, where you can instigate a little play fighting or mutual sniffing and smearing. The slender ginger tabby is one of a small feline colony living in a disused industrial district long since reclaimed by nature. The feel of your moggy is crucial here, and it’s instantly evident how much observational work has gone into her animation. Stray simply makes such activities more natural, giving us the perfect form for the job. Particularly in platform-puzzlers like this, our first inclination is to explore, looking for unorthodox routes up the sides of buildings, say, or jumping on furniture and seeing which objects we can manipulate. The early novelty of playing as a cat in Stray soon gives way to a striking realisation-we often behave like cats in games anyway. What is it? A post-apocalyptic puzzle-platform adventure starring a resourceful moggy.
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