One of the worst thing about video games today is that anybody can make a video game. I’m not saying that there are people who shouldn’t make games, I’m saying that it’s a lot of people. It doesn’t feel like it was that long ago that I could keep up with every release. Not that I played every game that was coming up, but I knew almost everything that was hitting the market. Now, tens of thousands of games hit storefronts every month. It would require an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters to review them all, which I’m working on obtaining for this site.

On the plus side, there’s no end of things to play. The big downside is that a lot of good stuff gets buried in the filth. The voices of a lot of talented developers never break the surface. I try to help folks get through, but I’m only one person. I play a lot of games, but that’s only a drop in the bucket. Plus, as eclectic as my interests are, not everything gets my attention.

When it comes to getting the word out, sometimes a developer’s PR (press relations) sends codes to press without them being requested, either for expediency or to try and capture attention. I don’t take codes unless I have, at least, intention to cover. I think that’s an unspoken rule among writers, but I’d actually have to speak to other writers to find out, which I won’t do.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is because Dog Witch’s PR specifically told me I didn’t need to cover it, they just wanted me to accept the code. No review necessary. So, I decided to… Wait a minute… I just realized I fell for reverse-psychology. Devious bastards.

BURN THE WITCH!

I can’t say Dog Witch didn’t interest me. I remember lingering the keyart for a while in one of the prior emails. A dog… who is a witch…

I’m a dog person. I have been ever since I got my hopelessly stupid dog nearly six years ago. Before that, I didn’t want to take responsibility for another living thing, because it’s hard enough to take care of myself. But he’s the sort of dog that convinces other people that they should get a dog. Just look at him:

ABUNDANT FLOOF

So, Dog Witch lets you make your dog. And while I couldn’t replicate his abundant floof in the create-a-dog (COD), nor could I find eyes that quite capture his perpetual, emotionally overridden cluelessness, I think it’s, at least, similar enough.

Dog Witch is a roguelite deck-builder, which is sort of what kept me away. It’s not that I don’t like the genre, it’s just that it’s already well-represented. I haven’t even gotten around to Dicey Dungeons or Slay the Spire, and those are the inspirational ground-zeroes of the genre. I could just go back to Draft of Darkness.

But, anyway, I told you why I ended up playing this one, so let’s move on.

If there’s one way that Dog Witch differentiates itself from other roguelite deck-builders, it’s with dog-centricity. If there’s another way, I haven’t found it.

Okay, technically, it’s not even really a deck-builder. You roll dice. The dice faces allow you to summon partners, charge your wand, collect mana, attack directly, curse, and I might be forgetting one. When you complete a battle, you get to upgrade or alter one side of that dice, which is sort of the deck-building adjacency. Your actions are always the same (summon, wand, mana, attack, curse, etc.), but you can customize them so you’re summoning beekeepers or rats with shotguns.

It’s neat. It’s straightforward. The story is that a wizard calls you a bad dog and insists you don’t get treats, so he must die. Then it’s just a progression of randomized battles until you die or he does.

THE DOG WITH BEES

Dog Witch isn’t the most engrossing experience. It seems to exist to be picked up and played as a snack. It’s advertised as being “snappy,” which seems appropriate.

I completed it in about an hour. I’m not sure if that’s due to luck or my huge brain. I also did it in three runs, which means I didn’t even unlock the hat you get for dying three times. The first run I sucked at. The second, I got to the wizard by throwing bees at everyone. The third time, I summoned shotgun mice that would heal me.

When you beat the game, you learn how to pet your dog. Shh. It’s a secret. I think…

You also unlock hats for performing different feats. Some of the hats make things more difficult, so I don’t have to stop at one hour of dice rolls, I could continue on with added challenge. But I feel really accomplished because I had such little difficulty reaching the end. I don’t want to spoil that sense of accomplishment.

VAGUE METRICS

One of the very vague metrics I keep in my head when reviewing games is whether or not I’m going to remember the game in a year or two. I mean, I don’t forget games, but sometimes my brain files them away, and I can only bring them to mind by filling out the appropriate requisition forms. A good game will linger on the edges of my memory, involuntarily coming back at the weirdest moments, just like my usual PTSD flashbacks.

And, you know, I’ll probably remember Dog Witch. Its colourful jank-pop presentation, surreal enemy design, and “snappy” gameplay really makes a statement. It’s the only game I know of where Matryoshka dolls pull guns out.

How long that will last for you, I’m not sure. It lacks some of the frills that would normally make a roguelite into a long-term experience. There isn’t a tonne of unlockables, and it barely has a story, which also means no side diversions. While it lasts, it’s entertaining. It doesn’t know any tricks, but it’s still a good boy (or girl). Yes it is. Oh, yes it is!

6/10

This review was conducted using a digital Steam version of the game. It was provided by the developer’s PR. The PR said, “the developer will put your (or a family member’s/friend’s) dog in the game as a playable character!” but this review was written without that expectation, and the author probably won’t take them up on it.