Revenge of the Savage Planet Review: Satirical Sandbox Meets Metroidvania Flair

From the moment you regain consciousness on an alien shore, Revenge of the Savage Planet makes its intentions clear: this is a playground of gadgets, goo, and winking sci‑fi satire. You play the hapless outcast of a profit‑driven corporation, stranded on kaleidoscopic worlds teeming with oddball creatures. Unlike its first‑person predecessor, this sequel shifts to a third‑person perspective, putting your explorer squarely in the frame as you hop, whip, and rail‑grind through four unique planets.

Beneath its vibrant surface lies a fusion of action‑adventure pacing and Metroidvania progression. Early on, your toolset is limited—a basic blaster and single jump—yet each scan, resource haul, and quest unlocks a new ability: triple jumps, energy whips that double as grappling hooks, or goo sprays that electrify, ignite, or slick surfaces. The blend of combat, platforming, and environmental puzzles keeps momentum steady, rewarding experimentation over rote backtracking.

Humor peppers every layer, from your snarky drone companion to creature names that elicit genuine smiles. Yet the game never forgets its door‑and‑key structure: meaningful rewards await those who revisit old areas with fresh upgrades. Co‑op adds another dimension, letting two players combine status‑effect traps and split exploration duties. Bright, boisterous, and rich in playful tools, the game promises a hands‑on sandbox that welcomes both solo explorers and partners in crime.

Mechanized Mayhem and Organic Growth

Diving into the mechanics of Revenge of the Savage Planet reveals a tight interplay between your growing arsenal and the story’s satirical take on corporate exploration. Each tool you earn feels like a plot beat: your starter pistol—an uninspired, low‑damage peashooter—soon gives way to chargeable energy rifles that mirror the game’s gradual unveiling of alien oddities.

The heart of every encounter is the “goo loop.” Four color‑coded goos (slippery green, conductive gray, incendiary red, aquatic blue) layer elemental tactics atop basic shooting. Foes with plasma shields crumble under an electrical spray; scuttling critters slip into traps when coated in green goo. This system echoes the emergent status effects of Divinity: Original Sin, yet remains smoothly integrated into a single‑player action world. Enemies are designed around weaknesses—acidic puddle dwellers, fire‑vulnerable herbivores—so each tool unlock feels narratively justified rather than tacked on.

Movement upgrades aren’t window dressing. Double‑jump evolves into a triple‑jump and whip‑grapple that let you chain across floating islets; a ground‑smash becomes a meteor‑strike opening new caverns. Magnet‑rock launchers and rail‑grinds inject bursts of speed, turning exploration into impromptu thrill rides. These moments recall the momentum‑driven flow of Metroid Dread, but with a cartoon twist: physics feel elastic, so missteps become part of the fun rather than pure frustration.

Gathering resources is as simple as tapping a node and scanning flora and fauna to fill your data logs. But key upgrades hide behind bizarre challenges—reflect three projectiles back, electrocute five foes simultaneously—forcing you to test your toolkit under pressure. While these oddball tasks can stall momentum, they also double as optional side‑tests that deepen your mastery. Your narrative role as a “research drone” ties every fetch‑quest back to the corporate mandate, giving structure to sandbox play.

Revisiting earlier zones with new abilities uncovers hidden vaults and secret exits. The integrated map and objective markers keep backtracking from feeling aimless; each return journey comes with the promise of tangible payoff. When the systems click, the planet transforms from a static backdrop into a living laboratory of galactic mischief.

Expanding Horizons

Revenge of the Savage Planet drops you onto four vividly realized worlds—murky swamps, dense jungles, molten volcanic fields, and crystalline arctic wastes—each with its own visual identity and mechanical quirks. In the swamp, drifting fog and sluggish terrain invite subtle tactics, while the jungle’s towering flora hides vertical shafts for agile climbers. Molten rivers in the volcanic zones glow hazards that demand timed traversal, and slippery ice in the arctic challenges ground control. This variety keeps each planet feeling purposeful and alive.

Zones flow into one another without loading pauses, so you’re encouraged to weave back and forth as new tools arrive. Hidden paths branch off main routes: a collapsed cavern might open once you master your ground‑smash, or a high ledge becomes reachable after the triple‑jump upgrade. It feels reminiscent of how Metroid Prime layers secrets into its maps, but here the cartoon physics let you improvise daring shortcuts.

Environmental interaction rewards curiosity. Scan mode highlights faint cracks or scan‑only flora, offering world‑building nuggets and puzzle hints. Goo sprays can sprout temporary platforms, reroute power through metal circuits, or slick a slope for high‑speed slides. Creatures pursue their own routines—herbivores forage, predators stalk—so your actions can trigger emergent skirmishes that enliven the sandbox.

Side activities are woven into the narrative fabric. Base‑camp décor items don’t unlock abilities, but decorating your hub with quirky machines reinforces the game’s playful tone. Captured critters can be housed in custom habitats, turning your research into a miniature menagerie. Scattered data logs and corporate briefing videos deepen the backstory without halting momentum, inviting you to explore every nook of these exploding‑with-life planets.

Chromatic Chaos and Sonic Satire

The game’s visual style immediately signals its playful tone. Environments glow with neon greens in the swamps and molten reds in volcanic zones, creating a comic‑book vibrancy that underlines the absurdity of corporate space exploration. Character and creature silhouettes—mushroom beasts with brain‑tops, round aliens sporting butt‑faces—are designed to spark curiosity, each model bristling with cheeky details that reward close inspection. In split‑screen co‑op, the UI scales dynamically; health bars and scan overlays shrink without obscuring the action, so two players can chase chaos together without visual clutter.

Animation delivers personality at every turn. Your explorer’s jaunty walk cycle contrasts sharply with the dire premise of corporate abandonment, reinforcing the game’s satirical undercurrent. Particle effects for goo sprays feel tactile—electric arcs crackle off conductive goo, while ember flecks dance when flames lick an enemy—and they cue the narrative stakes of each tool. Performance hiccups in foggy swamp sections can jar immersion, but they’re infrequent enough that the overall world cohesion stays intact.

Audio deepens the sense of place: distant creature calls echo through jungle canopies, and bubbling swamp noises hint at hidden dangers. Weapon blasts and traversal sounds carry weight—each whip‑snap or rail‑grind swoosh lands with purpose. The soundtrack oscillates between goofy synth riffs during exploration and driven electric‑guitar motifs in combat, setting an emotional tempo that mirrors your rising confidence with every new upgrade.

Tandem Turbulence

Enabling two explorers to tackle alien chaos together, the game’s split‑screen mode dynamically adjusts UI elements so neither player loses sight of their status or scan overlays. Online co‑op extends this seamless design across platforms, letting friends on PC and consoles link up without juggling settings. The shared camera angles keep both players centered in action, preventing awkward blind spots even when one builds a goo bridge overhead and the other hunts down resource nodes below.

Mechanics encourage teamwork at every turn. One player can coat a slope in slippery green goo while their partner lays down a trail of conductive gray, crafting electric traps that fry unsuspecting creatures. Tasks split naturally: one gathers silica and alien biomass to fund upgrades, the other scouts dangerous peaks for rare beast specimens to capture. As unlocks apply to both, progress never feels gated for the slower teammate—every new gadget or whip‑grapple upgrade amplifies shared tactics.

Going solo, you’ll notice tighter pacing: foes hit harder but fewer traps are available, preserving challenge. In co‑op, worlds become glorious bedlam—goo pools overlap, explosions ricochet, and creature ecosystems respond in unpredictable bursts. Beyond gameplay, pranking a friend into sliding off a razor‑sharp ledge delivers pure delight. Replay value blooms as you and your partner experiment with different status‑effect chains, turning each session into a custom‑crafted skirmish.

Quips and Corporate Quandaries

The game’s story casts you as a redundant cog in a profit-obsessed space outfit, turning every mission briefing into a satirical jab at workplace bureaucracy. Your drone partner, EKO, punctuates exploration with commentary whose frequency you can dial down—letting you choose between a loquacious sidekick or a near-silent observer. This tweak feels like a small RPG dialogue option, giving control over tone without altering plot beats.

Writing shifts between slapstick one-liners and pointed corporate mockery. Live-action clips of execs delivering cringe-worthy pep talks break up fieldwork, framing your sandbox antics as mandated “research” rather than genuine curiosity. Creature scan entries double as bite‑sized jokes—naming a bottom‑faced monster “Rearview Runner” delivers laughter without derailing immersion. It echoes how The Outer Worlds slipped barbed humor into codex entries, but here each new scan feels lighter, more playful.

Humor lands strongest when it meshes with gameplay: decorating your base with high‑five machines feels like a physical punchline you can trigger. Early chapters can lag, with research timers grinding momentum, but once your tools unlock rapid traversal, comedic timing snaps into place. Late‑game sequences brim with inventive visual gags, transforming alien oddities into running jokes that honor the narrative’s joyous irreverence.

Wiring the Machine

Respawns always redirect to your base camp, so a misstep on a distant planet means a lengthy fast‑travel loop back—an odd routing choice that amplifies downtime. Occasionally, quest triggers misfire, forcing a reload if you can’t rebuild an objective’s state.

Helpful features include a detailed map with custom markers and clear objective icons, plus visible research timers that let you plan your next move. Managing inventory and resources stays simple, with quick filters and readable tooltips that spare you unnecessary menu dives.

Performance holds firm across most environments, but swamp biomes on PS5 sometimes dip below target frame rates, causing stutters in thick fog. Loading screens vanish between zones, reinforcing the sense of a single continuous playground.

Systems mesh cleanly when everything runs smoothly, but the setbacks in pacing—triggered by respawn loops and the occasional soft lock—remind you that even well‑oiled machines need a tune‑up.