Death and Taxes Review (PlayStation 4, PlayStation 5 & PC)

Aside from having to pick which type of ingredient to add to a casserole every once in awhile, I can’t say I’ve had to exercise my ability to make split-second decisions in crucial moments all that often. Scratch that, I did, on one occasion, have to make the untimely decision of whether or not to sacrifice an entire lineage of promises for the sake of protecting a colony from meeting its unfortunate demise. But that was Fable 3, and that was also well over a decade ago, and so, I’d like to believe that I’ve come a fair ways since then, or at least ascended to a respectable level of maturity, anyway. It’d be a shame if I hadn’t, to be fair, as Placeholder Gameworks has just unleashed its own breed of manipulative moral compass, Death and Taxes.

Ah yes, Death and Taxes — the game that simply allows you to not only take on the administrative responsibilities of the Grim Reaper, but also make daring choices on who lives, and who survives the wicked swing of the scythe. Suffice it to say that, as far as alluring concepts travel, this is one that has the potential to rustle a few feathers and wax a few egos. After all, if you give a person the ability to conceive the outcome of another person’s actions without their knowing, then you’re going to have a lot of problems, most likely from those with a sweet tooth for a good old-fashioned cull than the ideology of preservation. To Death and Taxes, however, it doesn’t matter who winds up paying the toll — so long as somebody dies.

So, is it actually worth playing? Well, if you have been itching to sport the cloak and dagger, then be sure to read on before signing the contract.

Ringing the Death Knell

Death and Taxes invites you to take over the hot seat of the underworld—a position that involves having to meander through a catalog of potential ̶v̶i̶c̶t̶i̶m̶s̶ civilians, and make severe cuts to the human population for the sake of upholding a balanced society. This is, for the most part, the only thing that you do in the game: swing a metaphorical scythe around, and effectively ring the death knell for those deemed unfit for the living world. But there’s a catch: each and every person who you kill has some form of impact on your moral compass, be it for better or for worse. It’s your job, in short, to divide the criminals from the humanitarians, all whilst keeping tabs on your daily quota and assuring that no graves are left untouched by the final hour of each shift. Sounds straightforward enough, right? Wrong.

On the surface, Death and Taxes is just as much of a life simulation game as it is an excuse to make unjust decisions and push some form of hidden agenda down the throats of those before you. Aside from the fact that you do, as the clerk with the death warrant, spend the majority of your time filing reports and handing out morbid eviction notices to the masses, you also get to take on several other duties, such as embellishing your workspace, upgrading your filing system, and even petting a cat or two, weirdly enough. It also generates a selection of activities that take place an arm’s length from the desk, too, each of which features its own multi-choice menu and consequences. So, clearly a lot more than a bog-standard admin job, as it turns out.

You Will Die

A typical day in Death and Taxes sees you sitting behind the desk in a relatively quaint and opaque office, surrounded by a slew of case files and two valuable stamps, the latter being the keys that bear the power to excuse some poor soul’s minor mistakes, or course then directly to their twisted downfall into the oblivion. The only issue here, though, is that you can’t just enable autopilot and stamp your way through each file without giving it any consideration; the decisions you make do alter the timeline, and they do carry some amount of weight both on the surface, and in the darkest depths below. It’s your job in this whole shenanigan, to assure that the clients you kill, regardless of your quota’s status, will benefit the food chain and uphold some form of ethical code.

For me, it only felt natural that I would kill those who committed themselves to a life of crime and unlawful behavior. It was a no-brainer, knowing that, whoever it was that landed on my desk, just wouldn’t be fit to stand against the long arm of the benevolent, and so, it never once dawned upon me to let a few spoiled fish slip between my fingers. But, there was a problem: I couldn’t quite swagger through the applicants without allowing other, slightly less tainted folks to continue living, for I had criteria to meet, and the only way I’d be able to knuckle in on a promotion was through the act of balancing the scales and working for, you know, the greater good. And that’s what caught me out — the fact that I genuinely had to consider who was bad enough to deserve the death penalty.

A Cross to Bear

Administrative duties cast aside, I did enjoy taking the time to roam the far quarters of the office complex, if only to talk turkey with the boss, or idle in the elevator with little more than a quirky jingle to keep me company. For the record, I have worked in several offices over the years, and at no point have I ever hit the stage where I’ve genuinely enjoyed the idea of sitting in an elevator and mulling over the workload of the day. But Death and Taxes, to my honest surprise, made such pastimes come across as thoroughly enjoyable—addictive, even. It was an office job, sure, but that didn’t change the fact that it lent me my own cross to bear, of which I was oddly happy to wear throughout the nine-to-five routine. Strange, that.

The fact that Death and Taxes does also allow you to navigate between a myriad of dialogue options and make crucial decisions that affect the world around you is really something that gives it an edge over other admin-centric games. On a similar note, it isn’t all that different from Papers, Please, yet another office-based entrée that grants you permission to take the moral high ground and mold the outcomes of your actions. It’s a simple concept, for sure, and yet, one that doesn’t quite dwindle enough to make it a boring or even repetitive job. Sure enough, its case files are plentiful, as are the characters who flesh out the roster to provide additional lore for the game. Granted, the game itself isn’t exactly lengthy, but it certainly does its best to make the most out of the content it offers.

Verdict

In the four or five hours that I spent signing death certificates and etching names into the gravestone of those who (probably) didn’t deserve it, I learned a lot about myself; specifically, how I’m more inclined to sit in elevators than make life or death decisions that impact the future of the human race. But that was just me; I can’t say I’ve ever been one for making the right decisions, much less making them for others. In the hands of someone who’s slightly more experienced in the field, though, such choices can carry a lot more weight, and also a lot of consequences. It’s how you choose to navigate the moral compass that defines you, and if Death and Taxes is anything at all, it’s a reminder that, while your heart may be in the right place, you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.

If the act of completing relatively mundane chores in Papers, Please was enough of an incentive for you to grind out an entire nine-to-five shift and return for a second trial, then honestly, you’ll probably love just about everything that makes up Death and Taxes. As far as point-and-click games go, it isn’t anything overly complex, but that doesn’t change the fact that, conceptually, it isn’t any less compelling. When all’s said and done, death, naturally, is a rather gloomy subject, but from the perspective of a Grim Reaper, it’s annoyingly inviting. Well played, Placeholder Gameworks.