Reviews
We Gotta Go! Review (PC)
High on Life meets a little slice of Adventure Time in We Gotta Go, a brand-new procedurally generated haunted universe in which faecal matter dominates the chamber pot, and friendship comes in the form of flinging turds at one another for pleasure. Absurd in context, We Gotta Go invites several colorful sacks of gloop to wage war with their bowels and carefully traverse a labyrinthine manor—a world in which toilet paper-covered mummies and clusters of literal dung prowl the nooks and crannies and do all in their power to help you evacuate your insides. And yes, this is a real game. It’s also a rather amusing game, too. But, we’ll get to that in a minute.
It goes like this: friends—folk who have mistakenly found themselves trapped deep within a haunted mansion for some reason that’s completely unknown to us, the spectators—make a daring attempt to locate the one and only bathroom in the estate. The catch, however, is that said facility is on the far, far end of the mansion. And, as luck would have it, it’s also shielded by multiple layers of violent mobs, traps, and various puzzles. As one of these desperate cheek-grabbing socialites, it falls to you to wade through the dung, obliterate questionable matter, and find the porcelain throne before it’s too late. If you don’t make it on time, then you transform into a lump of crap that just so happens to have a face with a toothy grin, at which point your only hope is to have another friend carry you around in the palm of their hand. It’s a rather strange concept, but stick with us. Yes, there’s more. Take a breather — you’re going to need it.

The goal behind We Gotta Go is relatively simple: prevent your bowels from exploding whilst you aimlessly ransack and tackle the inner sanctum of a haunted mansion. You can pass gas to temporarily, well, relieve yourself, consume items that can keep whatever monstrosity you have lurking in the pit of your stomach at bay, and of course, wage unnecessary wars with those a lot less fortunate. And yes, you can throw lumps of questionably scented bodily sewage at your friends for no apparent reason. To echo, this is a legitimate game that you can actually spend your cash on. But hey, if Conker’s Bad Fur Day was able to make a diamond out of a turd nugget, then what’s to say We Gotta Go can’t follow in the same footsteps? Right?
Evidently, We Gotta Go is an unusual game. It’s so unusual, in fact, that it makes a habit of spoon-feeding you as much toilet humor, bad jokes, and eccentricity as frequently as possible. And yet, given the context, it actually works here. Right, so it’s a little “out there” as far as procedurally generated corridor rompers go, but, to give credit where it’s due, it does make for a unique experience that, at least to my knowledge, hasn’t been made before. Yet, the question continues to burn brighter than ever: Is it worth the asking price? Regrettably, yes.
To make it absolutely clear, We Gotta Go isn’t a bad game. It’s messy, though not as broken as most weird and wacky animated survival horrors that you might encounter on the market. Frankly, though, that’s all part of its signature charm—that sloppy and oh-so-flamboyant visual aesthetic and Adventure Time-like effect. It’s a lot on the eyes, mind you, but to call it a hot mess just wouldn’t be true. It isn’t a piece of crap; it’s a porcelain princess that knows all too well how to jiggle your funny bone and make you chuckle — even if its tactics do often involve having fellow players hurl murky brown snowballs at one another to pass the time. And as for everything else—the combat, visuals, and the simple things that make you smile—well, I suppose that’s the golden nugget on a corn-coated turd.

If it wasn’t for its procedural nature, I might have had a tough time holding out for a spot on the throne. Granted, I would have happily run the gauntlet three or four times whilst tackling the same obstacles and the same restroom-related curveballs. However, We Gotta Go truly surprised me, mainly due to the fact that it didn’t keep to the same format, but instead gave me a fresh experience with each new bathroom break. The quarters altered their presence; the puzzles swapped out various pieces; and the random pick-me-ups and mobs spawned in alternate locations. For that reason alone, I could keep venturing back to the same predicament and find something fresh to unlock.
All in all there’s a rather good, albeit very niche idea here that will likely to appeal to a certain demographic and not, say, the average thrill seeker. It isn’t exactly a glamorous tale, and it doesn’t have the weight of a fully-fledged campaign to elevate its image, either. That being said, for what it does offer—a jolly old romp through the animated quarters of a toilet joke in motion—it serves its purpose as an entertaining indie. Is it a brilliant game? No. But, I will say this: you’ll definitely remember it. Maybe that’s enough to pique your interest, maybe it isn’t.
Verdict

We Gotta Go falls into a category that I can’t quite explain, let alone critique. To call it an eccentric co-op game feels like a slight understatement. But, to call it a game that is oddly worthy of your time and attention, on the other hand, might be well suited in this case. Yes, it’s a little far-fetched and about as silly as your average off-the-cuff and tediously outdated Dad joke. Even still, with its somewhat relatable toilet humor and surprisingly meaty procedurally generated haunted mansion locale, it does make for an annoyingly more-ish experience that should, at least, keep you longing for that ever-elusive porcelain empire for a handful of hours or more. It isn’t a complete pile of crap, is pretty much what I’m trying to say here, though a little extra polish would certainly go a long way. You can take that at face value, friend.
We Gotta Go! Review (PC)
Polishing a Turd
With its somewhat relatable toilet humor and surprisingly meaty procedurally generated haunted mansion locale, We Gotta Go! does make for an annoyingly more-ish experience that should, at least, keep you longing for that ever-elusive porcelain empire for a handful of hours or more.