Cast n Chill

“I will catch one before we leave.” 

My oldest kid mutters, to no one in particular, while readying the rod for another cast. Maybe even the last one. His hands raise the rod back behind his head and let the line rip with a satisfying zip before the bobber plunks into the water. It rises and settles quickly. My second oldest asks to run to the car to grab a family-size bag of chips.

When I first caught a glimpse of Cast n Chill a few months ago, it felt like watching the sudden silver flash on a calm lake surface. I could feel that something special had broken and that it was time to set up patiently before I could cast my own line and get started. The stunning pixel art, arranged in incredible landscapes across multiple layers, was what initially grabbed my eye. 

“Do you think those fish are taunting us?” 

Absolutely they are. I don’t know how, but they are. I just gave my kids a ten-minute warning to leave after an hour of accumulating sunburns and of course, that’s when we see them jump. Their ripples cut the smooth reservoir surface into ever-widening circles. I look back at my second oldest, who is already layered in Classic Lays crumbs, watching his brother.

You play as an experienced angler, motoring out on a clear lake in a scene that is probably best described by a John Denver song. The art recalls older pixel arrangements that are somehow incredibly detailed yet boast a strong contrast between individual pixels. I imagine that a CRT filter almost made its way into the settings, although I don’t find it necessary. Lots of modern wizardry hides behind the game’s smooth animations. The steady camera pan from your boat above water to the beds of the various rivers, lakes, and ocean beaches oozes with a style that would have been impossible to create decades ago.

“Okay, gonna cast one more time, right where that fish jumped!” 

The optimism in his voice is impossible to ignore. I’ve long given up hope. We’re way past the ten-minute warning. The fish just aren’t biting. But there’s a grit in there that grants me wordless patience as I pack up the other two rods. My second oldest is deep into the chips. So deep that somehow he’s caused a vertical tear to rip halfway down the bag.

Cast n Chill has an idle mode. I’ve managed to sink nearly 30 hours into it since launch, just over a week ago. The game’s design has a steep grind in its gameplay loop. As you fish, you have a limited inventory for your catches, and you have to return to shore to visit the bait shop to sell them. In the idle mode, it was too easy (before the v1.01 patch) to rack up hundreds of gold coins while I was working. 

Every so often, I’ll take a break and switch the game to active mode, where the game’s design is equally engaging. I select through the rods and lures I’ve purchased, check my log to see what fish I’m missing, and set out again to find and catch whatever the idle mode didn’t land, using hints my character has noted to catch the rest.

Being able to switch between idle and active mode makes for a steady grind to get all 50 fish and despite it being a long grind, I don’t feel too much friction in its pacing. Although as of this review, I don’t have all 50 fish logged. The game does not have any notable accessibility options, although you can adjust settings to alter subtle details in idle mode.

“It’s a bite? It’s a bite! I think, maybe.” 

It’s not a bite. The wind has picked up over the reservoir and the bobber is periodically ducking behind the small crest of each passing wave. Everything’s ready to go, except for my oldest, who is white-knuckling the rod for another cast. My second oldest is eyeing the bottom of the bag, digging out crumbs in the bag’s creases with his nails. 

Cast n Chill has generously stocked each location with large schools of several species of fish. It’s well calibrated and balanced in that every upgrade, rod, and lure matters. It mimics the real-life detective work of figuring out what the fish want and what you have to do to land one. The fishing fantasy wouldn’t be complete without your trusty dog at the helm of your skiff and a joyful seasoned fisherman at the shop who, with a Santa Claus-like countenance and glee, warmly talks to you about the bites. The game’s charm is immeasurable and palpable in every play session.

“DAD!”

There’s something new in his voice. The rod tip is bent, his arms are fully flexed, and the bobber is out of sight. Something’s on the line. I sprint to his side, his little brother springing up and letting the chip bag get carried off by the wind. We’ll go hunt it down later. I’m telling my oldest not to horse the thing. 

When a fish commits to the bait, the thrill of reeling it in sends a surge of dopamine to your brain. You’re up against something at the other end of the line; you don’t know it, but you feel it, and you’re desperate for it to break the surface with not much but your muscles reeling. The rod feels flimsy. You’re always at a disadvantage. You’re desperate to see what you’re up against. It’s the outdoorsman’s loot box. 

Cast n Chill replicates this tension well. While you can see what you’ve got on the line, the game gives you few indications of how the fish is fighting back. It feels random, just like the fish-like that drives your catches in the wild. The noise of the struggle is psychological, like static filling your brain in consecutive balloon bursts with each pivot the fish makes. It’s easy to tug too aggressively and lose a fish. The back-and-forth is there and it makes the active mode gripping. 

“Look at it. It’s a beautiful fish, isn’t it?”

The small rainbow trout gracelessly whips its tail to get out of my son’s gentle but commanding grasp. It’s a beautiful fish. The three of us smile while my oldest’s demeanour beams the brightest. After the picture is snapped, he quickly crouches to the water’s edge and tenderly releases the trout, who gratefully, and without sparing any time, darts back into the water’s dark.

The final locations in Cast n Chill are at the seashore. The audio design is spot on with gull cries and wave crashes orchestrating the serenity of the ocean. The peacefulness you expect in the great outdoors washes over you best in the ocean settings but works extremely well to fulfil the fantasy of the ideal fishing experience. 

Visiting the last locales in Cast n Chill reminds me of my own life, spending time at the Puget Sound, the giant bay that gives Washington State in the U.S. its recognisable shape. I’ve spent many summers out crabbing or casting a lone buzz bomb out into the waves just for the thrill of breathing in the cold ocean breeze, getting lost in the big ocean air. They’re by far the most stunning locale in Cast n Chill, which is saying something considering the gorgeous landscapes before it.

Rather than dealing with tangled lines or hooks in fingers, you instead practise the patience of learning the game and figuring out where the biggest fish lurk to bring home a prize fish. At the end of a session, you walk away with pride that you’ve conquered the waters and maybe are even tempted to buy a hat to showboat to everyone that “fish fear you”.