All of us who love video games have our own specific genre preferences. I, for example, am a stalwart lover of 2D platformers. However, sometimes games come along that blow these predilections clean out of the water; games that transcend their ostensible genre, even as they celebrate it. Muffles’ Life Sentence, the fifth and final episode of which was released this week, is a shining example of this. Top-down, turn-based RPGs, which Muffles’ Life Sentence is a remarkable example of, are a class of games that has never much appealed to me. There’s obviously been a few exceptions down the years (most recently, Sea of Stars (2023) and Felvidek (2024) spring to mind). But these, like Muffles’ Life Sentence, only prove the rule. Let me try to explain why I enjoyed this idiosyncratic little gem so much.
I think I’m drawn to JRPGs with unusual settings, featuring the kinds of fictional worlds not typically explored in the genre. Like Felvidek, which is set in a surrealistic alternate version of 15th-century Slovakia, Muffles eschews the fantasy sword-and-magic settings used by most traditional turn-based (J)RPGs. It is set in a vast privatised prison nation, in which offenders’ bodies are surgically altered in order to reflect the crime they have committed. For instance, early on in the game you meet a prisoner whose head has been replaced by a set of traffic lights (it seems that they have perhaps committed some kind of horrific motoring offence). It is not as apparent exactly what crime the main protagonist, Muffles, has allegedly committed, but his gruesome form of poetic justice was to have his face cut off and his mouth sewn shut. What did he do? Why do the authorities apparently want to keep him quiet? This is one of the core mysteries that form the narrative backbone of the game.
While this body horror sounds shocking, the tone of the game is playfully satirical. It is, somehow, both grotesque and absolutely charming. The world of the Maddox Prison State, in which some sort of revolution is brewing, is certainly a strange place, in which the storytelling and game mechanics combine to create something rather unique. You see, Muffles can put on the faces of other characters in order to gain new abilities, and when he (literally) ‘enters his mind’, he gains access to their memories, which in turn provide upgrades and new cards for the turn-based deckbuilder combat.
These characters become members of his hotchpotch gang, both as entities in his head and as playable characters. (Their dual nature – somehow both corporeal and incorporeal – is perhaps a playful explanation of exactly where and how party members exist in classic JRPGs when they’re not on screen). This increasingly crowded headspace – which one character aptly describes as ‘some sort of liminal representation of [Muffles’] fractured psyche’ – is accessed by looking into mirrors, which also act as save points.
Each of the party members has a fascinating narrative arc, and I came to care deeply about this group of (mostly) loveable misfits residing in Muffles’ head. None more so than Dee – Muffles’ ‘cell buddy’ – who will live with me forever in the cell of my mind. Muffles himself is an engaging protagonist. Although he is unable to communicate verbally, players have access to his thoughts in the form of dialogue choices. Unfortunately, they all come out as muffled mumbles (hence our hero’s name), so other characters can’t understand what he’s saying. However, for the privileged player, they give valuable insights into his thoughts.
The main loop of the game is captivating. You explore the various environments – each episode is set in a different locale of the prison nation – talking to the wildly diverse cast of idiosyncratic characters, which are always entertaining encounters (the dialogue is out of this world!). These segments are punctuated by the aforementioned deckbuilding card combat. I looked forward to each of these main components of the game, and they flowed seamlessly into each other most pleasingly.
This card-based combat is fun and engaging, perhaps at the less difficult end of the spectrum, and yet still tricky enough to keep you on your toes, often requiring the shuffling of your decks in order to deal with different types of enemies. The deckbuilding is dynamic and deep. There are a lot of cards to collect, and it’s always exciting getting new ones. You can edit and create a whole bunch of different decks to meet all your myriad combat needs. There’s certainly plenty of scope for experimentation. (I ended my playthrough with four different decks of cards). Overall, the combat difficulty seems well-judged. If it were any harder, it might have interfered with the flow of the narrative. (Plus, there are optional enemy encounters for those who want even more of a challenge).
The writing throughout the game is incredibly funny, fluid and natural. Seemingly effortless. The comedic timing of BossyPino, the remarkably talented solo developer of the game, is sublime. This game made me laugh so much. The jokes come thick and fast, but they are never predictable. Everything in this world, including the humour, is fantastically off kilter. Uncanny, odd and joyful. The prison and its colourful inmates are full of surprises. And there are some delightfully deft metafictional moments. Even though some of the content is disturbing, this is not a dark game. At least, it didn’t feel that way to me. But then perhaps I’ve been in Muffles’ mind for too long?
BossyPino made their game on RPG Maker, achieving so much with so little. The pixel graphics are simple but effective and utterly singular. Each episode and setting has a distinct look and feel, and the different colour palettes are lovely on the eye. But the game probably looks at its best during the combat segments. The grotesque enemies are delightfully strange creatures. And a special word for all the character portraits, which are minimalistic marvels of pixel portraiture.
The music and sound design add so much to the atmosphere and pacing. The main theme is fantastic – creepy and alluring – and the incidental music acts as subtle aural signposts, easing transitions from one scene or character to another. And the pulsing music during combat is suitably intense.
Although the game was released episodically, it all hangs together well, while simultaneously maintaining the unique feel of each episode. And the ending is clever and satisfying. I’ve never been so sad to say goodbye to an RPG party before. Dee, I’ll see you in my mind, cell buddy.
