Smells Like a Mushroom

I went in expecting the kind of cheap, winking nonsense that uses comedy as a shield for broken fundamentals. Smells Like a Mushroom is more interesting than that, even if it is genuinely, relentlessly, sometimes exhaustingly silly. You are Carrotado, a grieving carrot soldier who boards the starship Soil-Trek alongside General Despotato, scientist Garlic Ailstein, and the spiritual presence of Holy Broccoli to chase the mushroom invasion across every planet in the solar system, ending at a showdown with the head villain Satanus Boletus on the sun. The game's self-awareness about its own absurdity is either charming or grating depending on how much tolerance you have for vegetable wordplay, and critics have been split almost exactly along that line. At its core this is a third-person platformer-shooter that reaches bullet-hell density at peak moments, and the fundamentals hold up better than the premise deserves. Movement relies on a double-jump plus air-dash combination that takes a moment to click but genuinely opens up traversal once it does. Shooting splits between hip-firing for mobility and aiming down sights for accuracy, and the tension between moving fast enough to avoid damage and standing still long enough to land shots creates the game's best moments. Ammo scarcity across a ten-plus weapon arsenal means you are constantly making small decisions about which gun to push and which upgrade to prioritize. Scrap collected from crates and enemies feeds into upgrades covering weapon magazine size, health, lives, attack cooldowns, and weapon power. The upgrade loop is lean and functional rather than deep, but it keeps the mission-to-mission rhythm ticking. The hard limits are worth naming clearly. A lives-based system with no mid-level replenishment means boss failures send you back to the start of the attempt, which stings when some bosses run three distinct phases with separate attack patterns. Critics noted bullet-sponge tendencies on certain bosses, and the camera has a habit of losing composure when combat gets crowded or corners get tight. The platforming, particularly on mouse-and-keyboard, can feel imprecise. The joke density is front-loaded in a way that means the humor starts wearing thin before the later planets, and the gameplay loop, while consistent, is repetitive enough that some reviewers felt it outstayed its welcome. Local co-op for two players is present and likely softens most of these friction points considerably, since the difficulty spikes were clearly tuned for a solo run. Where this game quietly earns its place is visual personality. The cartoony, colorful art style across diverse planet biomes gives each stage a distinct look, and the anthropomorphic character designs land more often than they miss. Red Limb Studio, despite this being an early project for them, clearly has genuine shooting and movement craft in the codebase. The game knows it is not trying to win awards for writing and says so outright, which is either endearing honesty or a pre-emptive deflection depending on your mood. For players who genuinely love obtuse, passion-project indie weirdness in the Earthworm Jim-adjacent corner of game design history, there is real affection baked in here. For everyone else, the repetition and joke fatigue are real. Go in with expectations calibrated accordingly and the core third-person action is a competent, occasionally frantic time. Kai, Scout Team