Later Review (PC)

I’ve a million things to do and ̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶l̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶d̶o̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶ no time to whatsoever to do it. I have a cluttered apartment to tidy, a ridiculous amount of doom scrolling through TickTack to subject myself to, and an incredibly demanding feline companion who, for some reason that’s unknown to me, wishes that I would spend the little time I have left playing hide and seek with it. But there’s the problem: the more I play, the more I begin to question my true purpose as an individual. Like I said, I have a lot to do, but for some reason, finding a cat is the most important thing to me at this moment in time. Don’t ask me why — all I know is that, so long as there is still a tomorrow, I can always do it Later.

It was humorous at first—cute, even. I liked that the cat-like neighbor wanted me to engage in a friendly game of hide and seek. But then I began to wonder how on earth the simple act of procrastinating was contributing to the overall downfall of the apartment. Things would get a little messier, and not doing what I was supposed to do was only exacerbating the endless list of problems that were gradually building up. Yet, for when I “needed” to find something irrelevant and in no way beneficial to the agenda, I would chase that task like a red dot on a laser pointer. And I think that’s the point that Later tries to make: that it is stupidly easy to distract someone if the material is befitting of the situation. Maybe I’m thinking too much into it. Maybe, just maybe, it is just transparent. Or is it?

Not Later — Now, Please

Later is a thirty-minute “narrative-driven” object-finding game—a short hand-drawn comic book in which your primary objective, as the overseer of these colorless panels and pages, is to listen to a “cat” and follow strict orders. And by orders, I mean a game of hide and seek. Granted, it does run a little deeper than that, what with it being a story-driven game and that. That said, there isn’t much that you need to know about this world, other than, perhaps, the fact that the more you play, and the more you defrag the clutter, the more the environment becomes a show ground for another underlying problem that also adopts a role in the grand scheme of things. It talks about surrealism, and, to give credit where it’s due, I can sort of see why.

At the heart of this iddy-biddy journey is a simple point-and-click tool—a hand with which you can use to interact with items dotted around one of several rooms, and gradually piece certain things together to form stepping stones to unravel a story. Speaking of which, Later uses its platform to spark a question: What are the side effects of procrastination? Is there a common issue that occurs due to a lack of motivation or strenuous exercise?

With each passing click, it seems, the answer becomes more apparent. Visually, the world begins to alter its formation, and the subtle changes in the shady comic strips transition into a more complex composition of a peculiar nature. To clear up any confusion, this isn’t a horror, though, taking these words into account, you could see how it would strike you as one, what with its inclusion of some rather dark undertones and secrets.

Love With a Twist

Here’s the catch: the further you go, the more likely you are to unravel something, shall we say, darker. As it turns out, Later touches base on some rather bleak details, with the “antagonist” in question being a rogue cat with two personalities, one of which is cute and charming, and the other being more demanding and, strangely, a little terrifying. And as you progress through this world, the apartment oddly bleeds into another dimension, with set pieces swapping their cozy aesthetics with a darker palette of shades. Again, not a horror — but creepily cute, funnily enough.

Of course, the gameplay isn’t massively different from your traditional point-and-click hidden object game, and so, from that standpoint, there’s nothing here that you haven’t already seen a dozen times before. That said, with a sizable canvas to work with, multiple rooms to scrub through, and over 300 objects to find, both cat-centric and rubber duck-like, there is a good amount here for you to explore. As for whether there’s enough in its casket to keep you plugging away for days on end is another story. Truth be told, though, you should be able to sweep the entirety of its bite-sized campaign beneath the rug in a single sitting.

Verdict

Later distils and produces a similar concoction in a bottle that we’ve both seen and consumed a hundred times before. Yet, even with so, so many of these hand-drawn elixirs to sample, I still find myself coming back to them, not just to scratch that post-predecessor itch, but to witness the same flavors in a vaguely different light. In the case of Later, the same basic ingredients are more present than ever, with the hidden object format being almost and one the same as countless others on the market. But as the saying goes — if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. And I think that same notion applies here incredibly well, all things considered.

Although the composition isn’t as complex as, say, the 100 Hidden Cats series, or even as weighty as it, for that matter, Later does provide some neat touches in its simple yet somewhat attractive two-tone art style. I’m unsure if it has the power to dethrone its kin with its artistic prowess alone, though, to give credit where it’s due, it does balance the sketchbook aesthetic with the vignette touches surprisingly well. The fact that it also comes clean with a short and personal story is, to some degree, the cherry on the cake, albeit a small one that doesn’t stretch much beyond a single session of flexing its colors.

To conclude, if it’s a hidden object game with a twist that you want, then Later is sure to provide almost everything that you’re looking for, excluding a pulpy campaign with a whole lot of substance. If you’ve a thirty minute window to spare, however, then I’d recommend giving this feline some special attention to help scratch that itch. Two birds with one stone, right?