One of the most disquieting things about lobster – a creature that urinates through its face, I have been told, and is therefore at a pretty rarified level of disquiet already – is that beneath the shell they seem to be all lobster. Maybe you have watched lobster being poached in butter on a cookery show. The claw is removed. The shell of the claw is cracked open. And inside, a perfect padded claw-shape of lobster, a novelty lobster claw cushion of meat. And nothing else! How do these things work? How do they get about and skitter around the seafloor? How can they even master the effort required to urinate through their own faces (I have only been told this, I might be wrong) when they’re just meat wandering around inside a shell?
Lots of lobsters in King of Crabs. Lots of turtles and sea spiders and, of course, lots of crabs. And there’s that awareness of the shell, too: the crunch and crack and then all the meat beneath. King of Crabs, and there is no other way of saying this, is the best crab-based Battle Royale I have ever played. It is so forcefully strange, so certain about itself and its intentions, that after I downloaded it last night and played for about an hour, I had to keep returning to it just to make sure it was real. It is real. Someone has made a multiplayer crab-battling game, and treated it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It’s wonderful.
It’s so simple, too. You take a crab and scuttle about the place, eating everything smaller than you, running from everything bigger. This is pretty much the algorithm for crabs, I gather. This is pretty much what goes on in their heads. The more you eat, the bigger you get. Eventually – I have never reached this point – you must be crowned king of the crabs. What a moment that will be! I wonder if crabs urinate through their faces too. I should really look some of this up.
Read more: eurogamer.net