Forager

I’m playing Forager again, and I need poop.

I am voracious for poop.

There are holes everywhere. Four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire. I have a handful of landfill: lovely cubes which can be jammed or wedged into said holes to speed up your passage across these floating isles, or bridge gaps between biome segments. But a handful of landfill is not enough, and so I need poop to thumb into these holes.

Forager is a game of building loops, character development, and resource attrition.

Poop helps create animal feed. Animal feed makes cows poop. There is a beautiful simplicity in the way these systems interact.

Forager is also a game about distraction, concurrent quests, and oblique puzzles. I’m waiting for my windmill to pump out my feed, but simultaneously digging the map like a madman to harvest rare gems to slot in totems to reveal a chest. A chest that may hide a skill orb, which in turn may grant me enough XP to level up. A level up which in turn may allow me to select a persistent upgrade that makes the blades of my windmill turn faster, and my faecal alchemics tick over that much faster.

Forager is aggressively designed to make each of these micro-goals feel impactful and sequential. Forager is a game designed to make you care about poop.