This game is a cunningly crafted series of digital landscapes that resemble the dreams of a geometrician who has had far too much to drink and then decided to design a golf course. Each level is an intricate ballet of jumps, dodges, and leaps, where timing is not merely a suggestion but a strict lifestyle choice.
Bumbi, our protagonist, is not your average hero. No, Bumbi is more akin to a small, determined particle of dust that has decided it’s going to fight the vacuum cleaner. It’s a story not of epic battles or grand quests, but of a single, minuscule creature’s attempt to traverse landscapes that seem to have been designed by someone who had a personal vendetta against straight lines, clear paths and the continuation of life itself.
With a jump that can only be described as ‘optimistically improbable’ Bumbi embarks on a journey across platforms that hang in the air like an awkward silence. With obstacles less welcoming than a tax audit and about as forgiving as a porcupine in a pillow fight. You, the player, a hapless soul in search of victory must navigate these with the kind of precision that would make a Swiss watchmaker weep in inadequacy.
The platforms, which in most games are as reliable as the rising sun, are about as dependable as a weather forecast on a British summer in this game. One moment solid, the next, it’s decided to take a brief sabbatical, leaving little Bumbi to plummet in a manner that’s both tragic and sometimes slightly amusing.
So here’s to Bumbi, a jolly little speck in a universe that seems hellbent on its demise. It’s a tale of perseverance, of countless attempts to conquer the unconquerable, of the joy found not in the destination, but in the hilariously convoluted journey. One might say, it’s not the fall that kills you—it’s the sudden stop on the obnoxious red spike at the end. And in Bumbi’s case, those are plenty, each a small lesson in humility and the art of “trying again”.