Grandma, No!

I have a soft spot for games that commit completely to a single absurd premise and then get out before they've worn it thin, and Grandma, No! lands squarely in that category. WALLRIDE's physics comedy drops you into the sensible shoes - well, slippers - of a grandmother suddenly saddled with babysitting duty while her son heads to a nudist beach. The premise is paper-thin on purpose. What matters is what happens the moment you try to mow the lawn or make a sandwich and the whole room decides to resist you. The structure is simple: three playable spaces - kitchen, living room, and backyard - each loaded with a to-do list of chores that escalate into slapstick disasters. A foyer hub lets you swap outfits and track collectibles between areas. Every room hides optional objectives alongside the mandatory ones, and the optional work is genuinely the heart of the experience. Hunting down hidden collectibles or engineering specific acts of furniture destruction requires you to really poke at the physics, and that poking is where the game's handcrafted weirdness reveals itself - a dust genie trapped in a handheld vacuum, ant hills staging a backyard takeover, a fridge that yields something stranger than leftovers. The 2D hand-drawn mini-games that periodically break up the 3D chaos have their own distinct aesthetic, almost a Ren and Stimpy-era cartoon energy, and they do genuine work keeping the pacing from going flat. The soundscape deserves a mention in its own right. The soundtrack pulls from 1950s lounge and sitcom instrumentation - upbeat, slightly kitschy, and a genuinely fitting companion to Grandma's slow-motion rampage. Sound effects land with precise comic timing: every smash, splat, and yes, every use of the dedicated fart button. The voice work supporting the cast of weird characters is a cut above what you might expect from a game this short, even though Grandma herself remains gloriously mute throughout. The honest caveats are real ones. The targeting system misbehaves, with thrown objects straying well off-target in ways that occasionally cross from funny into irritating. A floor-clipping bug in certain mini-games was present at launch, and while the game auto-advances past those moments, it blunts the experience. Some reviewers have flagged that the humor leans heavily on gross-out beats and that the comedy directed at the elderly protagonist's frailty starts to feel thin by the end - a fair reading, and worth knowing before you sit down with it. The runtime also means replayability is limited beyond unlocking the handful of unlockable outfits, including, notably, Apocalypse Grandma, who shoots lasers. Completion clocks in somewhere between one and two hours for the main tasks, with completionists potentially stretching to three or four. For what it is - a short, handcrafted burst of slapstick that trusts the player to find the joy in controlled chaos - Grandma, No! largely delivers. It is not trying to be Octodad or Human Fall Flat in scope, and the trimmed runtime is arguably a feature rather than a flaw. A game that knows when to end is rarer than it should be. This one does. Kai, Scout Team