A Gentlemen’s Dispute Review (PC)

I’m not entirely sure what being gentlemanly means, much less how one would be a gentleman under the influence of a good old-fashioned pompous dispute. But, I can tell you this: if being gentlemanly means hurling rockets at a fellow man’s forehead, then I have absolutely no idea what the rules are. It’s in the spirit of fun, apparently — but according to A Gentlemen’s Dispute, the best—no, the only way to resolve conflict is through firm action and backhanded compliments. Alas, speaking to your suited companions bears no real weight here; the brunt of a baseball bat, on the other hand, works wonders for ridiculing diplomacy. Weird, that.

A Gentlemen’s Dispute isn’t about fighting, per se. No, because if it was about fighting, then it wouldn’t be gentlemanly; it would be canon fodder for degenerate people. Oh, A Gentlemen’s Dispute is a little more formal than your bog-standard feud. Well, I say that, when really I mean, it’s a lot better at disguising the fact that, at least beneath the layers of its frivolous mantra, it isn’t much more than a ruthless physics-based sandbox brawler with the usual bazookas and absurdly barbaric shenanigans. But it doesn’t want you to see that; it wants you to feel stupendously regal about yourself as you resort to mindless acts of illogical violence. And you know what? I can’t help but appreciate the sentiment.

If you took the brash nature of a traditional arena-based multiplayer game and swapped its characters for high-society gentlemen, you’d essentially have the firm foundation that A Gentlemen’s Dispute builds its diamond-studded walls around. It isn’t posh, and boy — it definitely isn’t gentlemanly. But it is, weirdly, well-oiled chaos on a silver platter. And I’m fine with that.

“I Spit in Your General Direction!”

A Gentlemen’s Dispute isn’t a well-orchestrated love letter to firm but fair conflicts; it’s a knuckle-binding violent affair that idolizes reckless behavior and questionable judgment, morally dubious tactics and all-out carnage on a pompous platter. What I mean to say is, it isn’t what it describes itself as on the tin, which is a calm yet collaborative process of restoring one’s faith in camaraderie. No, what you have here, funnily enough, is something more confrontational. In A Gentlemen’s Dispute, folks don’t wage war with words; they take matters into their own hands with clubs and canons, bats and bazookas.

At the heart of all of this is a stupidly fast-faced eight-player arena battler in which each of the eight elite civilians of a higher ranking steps forth to duke it out over a series of “disputes” with their like-minded peers. In each break—sections that tear away from the hustle and bustle of the violence—players are given the opportunity to unlock passive abilities, which effectively serve as enhancement boosters for one of several attributes, be it agility-based or attack-based. The process that sits on either side of these short bouts of respite is, much like your traditional last-man-standing battler, simple: players thrash it out until all but one pompous patron remains.

The concept isn’t massively different from what you might have seen before in alternate arena-based free-for-all brawlers. The only downside to this, of course, is that, at least by owning that universal blueprint, it immediately loses that sense of originality and the unpredictability that comes with an innovative trove of gameplay modes and ideas. But I can’t dwell on that for too long, because frankly, the single greatest thing about A Gentlemen’s Dispute is its quirkiness, even in its familiar format.

When Monocles Collide

A Gentlemen’s Dispute unloads its trunk in the first half, not with the intent to burden you with choices, but to see how you will manipulate its sandbox to your advantage in an attempt to ostracize your enemies. With an entire casket of weapons to work with—bats, clubs, canons, explosives, and, well, just about any other object that you might find on the croquet field—it immediately opens up its portal to a plethora of possibilities, and asks only that you use the tools to your advantage to whack, splat, and launch your foes in a rag doll-like fashion. That, in short, is what A Gentlemen’s Dispute is all about — and it’s hilariously messy in all the best ways, weirdly.

Although the graphics aren’t that great here, and the world design, in general, sadly lacks the photogenic finesse and panoramic feel of a bubbling Battle Royale platform, A Gentlemen’s Dispute does make amends with its quirky gameplay mechanics and stupidly entertaining rag doll physics. What’s more, it does a pretty decent job of keeping things interesting in each passing round, what with its inclusion of power-ups and mid-game buffs granting its players the flexibility to develop fresh strategies and builds to generate new opportunities and happy-go-lucky antics. In other words, a modern marvel it most certainly is not. But a positively entertaining game, on then other hand, it most definitely is, good sir. Some food for thought, there.

Verdict

A Gentlemen’s Dispute provides a stupidly barbaric yet seamlessly convincing argument that deserves to be heard by citizens from all walks of life. It isn’t that it’s of a higher pedigree than most arena battlers; it’s that it makes the blood sport more appealing and less intimidating, mostly thanks to its unique design and weird fixation on pompous archetypes. I’m all for that. And, frankly, I’ll be more than happy to sing its praises for all the while it allows me the freedom to wage wars with the one percenters. The world needs more of that freedom, truly.

Let it be said that, while the act of butting heads with rag doll buddies is hilarious even during the most foul of times, I personally wouldn’t recommend adding your monocle to the pit if you’re looking to rebuild a few bridges with your friends. With that said, while you are likely to do more harm than good here (and you will, believe me), you should manage to reach a tipping point where both you and your bruised and broken buddies come to a mutual agreement. The bad news is that it takes somewhere between nine and ten “disputes” to reach that final resolution. And even then, old habits die hard, especially in the mitts of a so-called gentleman, apparently.