YetiParty Review (PC)

The seamless transition from gnawing on a few crisp carrots to bolting from a deranged pig wasn’t what caught me off guard in YetiParty; it was just about everything else that stitched itself into the pattern. It probably should have been a belt-and-braces affair—a demoralizing festivity of loose moral standards, cheap alcoholic references, and questionable toilet humor. But that setup quickly fell out of the apple cart and bled into something else entirely, and it honestly wasn’t something that I expected to see from a two-for-one horror-parody hybrid.

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect from a game that initially stapled itself under the umbrella of a self proclaimed masterpiece. Case in point, the first thing that popped up from out of the blue wasn’t an iron promise to me, that it would deliver a spectacular walking simulation experience. Instead, it slapped me on the back and openly proclaimed that it would be a friggin’ unusual sixty-minute romp through a series of bizarre happenings. It promised beer, bad jokes, and the occasional piece of degenerate nonsense, of course, but what it failed to tell me was that it would also be cramming its carcass with a treasure trove of absurd ideas, like an oversized pig barreling down a container in a fit of rage, for example.

YetiParty is a lot of things, but a full-blown horror game it most certainly is not. Well, to tell a lie, it is a slightly unnerving game, though perhaps not for the right reasons. Suffice it to say, it has a good amount of jump scares, and it has its own spice of humor that, quite frankly, I would soon rather discard for, you know, reasons. But more on that in a little while.

Life of the Party

YetiParty lays the groundwork for a simple, albeit incredibly juvenile premise—a setup that more or less invites you, the wayward academic, to explore the twisted boroughs of a derelict Russian village in an attempt to blow off steam before enrolling in, at least from what I gathered, a prestigious university. With that, the game peppers your purpose with a few futile jobs to complete: purchase beer, find a camping spot, and enjoy the great outdoors before nightfall. Simple enough, right? Eh, wrong.

The reason why YetiParty describes itself as a double feature is that, despite it openly setting the tone for a seemingly harmless journey that just so happens to contain a litter of genetic fetch-and-go tasks, it also features its frequent tender moments and unorthodox thrills. And the pig, funnily enough, isn’t the only odd thing to sneak its way into the narrative, either. I’d hate to spoil it, but to give credit where it’s due, oversized farmyard animals are but one of the many curveballs that YetiParty hurls at you. It’s in the title, though — so you can only assume that it features a great deal more than squalor and manure. It does, just to be clear.

A Night to Remember

In the sixty or so minutes that you endure the weird activities of YetiParty, you can essentially explore a small wooded area with a couple of derelict spots, converse with “friends” and other eccentric folk—a task that comes loaded with its hilariously shoddy voiceover work and bad jokes—and complete small but somewhat meaningful tasks, like grabbing beer and snacks, and you know, fleeing for your life in a last-ditched effort to survive a perilous pursuit. You know, normal things.

The good thing about YetiParty is that it doesn’t fool you into thinking that everything is perfect. It’s design isn’t perfect, nor are the characters. Heck, most of its assets are a little wooden and laughable. But that doesn’t matter, because when push comes to shove, YetiParty weirdly knows how to conjure up a good scare. It isn’t a bone-chillingly good cauldron of quality scares, but it certainly knows how to create an atmosphere and give you something to look forward to. And the best part is, it’s annoyingly unpredictable, which means that you often spend more of your time glancing over your shoulder than directly ahead.

I’m not saying that YetiParty has the potential to surpass its kin, but I have to give credit where it’s due and celebrate its self awareness as a mismatched horror. At least, where most horror games tend to boast and spoon feed its users with the promises of “revolutionary mechanics” and the likes, YetiParty instead opts to take the route less traveled, with promises that mostly correlate with janky voiceovers and questionable gameplay choices. Honestly, I can’t help but applaud that commitment to the part.

Verdict

YetiParty had me wincing in laughter, cringing in secondhand embarrassment, and above all, screaming in fear—the three powerhouse emotions that happily make up a stubbornly good indie horror, naturally.

While I’m a long way out from being able to consider YetiParty as a ”substantially better” horror game than the rest of its kin, much less a product that’s blessed with classic good looks and all of those trademark qualities of a traditionally well-orchestrated game, the truth here is that, despite mixed impressions, I actually enjoyed it. Sure, it was unusual, and the plot progression was hardly what I would call orthodox — but the tiny details—the mismatched characters, the god-awful dialogue, and the general kookiness of the setting as a whole—were worth the price of admission.

If it’s an unusual indie horror that you want—a hybrid that crosses swords with one too many genres, from the looks of it—then you should, with any luck, find yourself pleasantly surprised by just how much of a good time YetiParty has to offer in its short sixty-minute interlude. It won’t change your perspective on what a solid horror game should look like, but it’ll certainly give you something to write home about whilst you wait for the next opportunity to toast a few marshmallows with an oversized pig. As common as that is, you know.