Creature Kitchen Review (PC)

The witching hour brings out the best of both worlds—the moonlit wisps and the mischievous critters, but also the prying eyes and the rampant mammals who would give a left paw for a nibble of your potato chips, or something as equally scrumptious under the right circumstances. As for what Creature Kitchen looks like beneath the pale glimmer of twilight, it’s a difficult one to call. On the one hand, you have a tender cooking sim with lovable animals, all of whom have their own distinct personalities and tastes. But, on the other hand, you have a rather gloomy indie with peculiar shadings of old-school horror. Is it cute, or is it disturbing? At this point, I have no idea — but I’m all for the concept, nonetheless.

Speaking of concepts, Creature Kitchen is a cooking game with a small twist of humor and horror-based seasoning—two ingredients that transform it into this strange nocturnal snack fest of oddball critters and nonsensical recipes. It is, for the most part, a game about quenching the insatiable hunger of a woodland grotto of creatures—an act that involves venturing beyond the pantry and into the ominous crags and crevices of a home in search of appropriate snacks and twilight delicacies. Here’s the catch: every creature is different, and some of them aren’t as keen to indulge in your egg sandwiches as others. A strange ordeal, but you get the point. If this game is anything at all, it’s an ode to midnight snacking — but with outdoor creatures instead of nocturnal friends.

The idea is relatively simple: a nifty book on your kitchen counter tells you of the various creatures in the nearby area, as well as the food that they enjoy. It’s your job, armed with a camera and a suite that’s full of cooking appliances, recipe cards and ingredients, to rustle up the necessary meals and appease the masses over the course of a short but oddly sweet three-hour culinary adventure. It isn’t dramatic, and it certainly isn’t violent. Heck, it’s not even that scary. That being said, Creature Kitchen isn’t the sort of game to serve mindless jump scares on a silver platter; it’s the type to build suspense with as little as an old woodland shack and the ominous ambiance of a lonesome world with no real human presence. It isn’t a full-fledged horror, but a lonely cooking experience that uses frequent audiovisual cues and a sense of urgency to fuel your drive. And you know, it works.

There’s a simple yet satisfying gameplay loop here that doesn’t require much to understand. In short, you capture a snapshot of an animal, analyze their personal preferences, and then revert back to a recipe card to learn how to create the dish. And that, really, is all there is to it. There are cupboards to unlock, ingredients to unearth, and puzzles to solve, as well as a roster of critters to befriend and satisfy, naturally. In a nutshell, though, what you see is what you get: a calm yet somewhat gloomy cooking sim with hints of old-school puzzle solving and questionable dialogue.

While the opening portions of Creature Kitchen did feel awfully daunting and without context, I did find that the more I subjected myself to its world and the more pieces of the jigsaw puzzle I located, the easier the process became. A recipe card would highlight the best path forward, and before long the act of whisking, grilling and serving midnight snacks felt like second nature, as did the sounds of the woodland and the recurring theme of being isolated and without human intervention. Before long, it wasn’t so much of a “spooky” experience; it was a soothing task that didn’t require much of me other than to carefully comb over the details and fill a few portly bellies along the way.

Unfortunately, just as I began to find the rhythm and gel with the process, Creature Kitchen came to a halt and locked me out. At just three hours in length, the journey ground to a standstill, and the world had little else to offer other than an opportunity to relight the stove and experience it all over again. I would’ve liked a few more critters, a few more recipes, and a handful of extra wings and areas to explore. Yet, that wasn’t on the menu. I served my purpose, and I left the shack with the hopes that it would still have more to offer. But, it didn’t. Perhaps that was the biggest downfall: the fact that it was more of an à la carte than a buffet.

With all of the above said, Creature Kitchen did keep me entwined throughout its short lifespan, with a troupe of surprisingly lovable critters and a satisfying cooking experience that always felt fluid and fresh. It was an unusual experience, to say the least, but one that made me feel oddly connected with the woodland and the act of fulfilling orders for ravenous animals. Would I venture back to the campfire to do it all over again? In time, perhaps. Should you take the chance to adopt a troupe of wild animals and become their own private sous chef? Honestly, yes.

Verdict

Creature Kitchen might not be the all-you-can-eat buffet of modern-day indie culinary horrors, but for a short and surprisingly sweet à la carte, I have to admit that it does make for a surprisingly enjoyable appetizer with a lot of great and somewhat peculiar flavors. It’s still a short game that leaves a good amount to be desired, but it’s what it does with its short time in the serving hatch that counts, as well as what it coneys with its liminal setting and tight-fisted recipe cards. It isn’t the perfect cooking sim, but it is one that dares to be different and a little unorthodox. Does that make it a worthy appetizer to help fill your stomach? If you’re after something a little out of the ordinary, then yes. For a full-fledged horror with cooking elements, seek comfort in The Boba Teashop.