I finished my first playthrough of Bad Rats in stunned silence. My journey had begun with dumb puns and silly puzzles, but the end affected me in a way I never expected. That’s kind of Bad Rats’s specialty — playing with our expectations of what a puzzle game should be, subverting them, and using them to drive a story unique to what games can do. Its strong writing, integration of gameplay with storytelling, and acute understanding of its audience all build to something that surprises at every turn.

As a lone rat fallen into an underground world that serves as a prison for cats, I had my journey laid out for me, as most puzzle game protagonists do. For my first playthrough I took a easy approach, being as easy and fun as possible as I searched for a way back to the surface. But I made a mistake: I accidentally bought the full game in the beginning. So I restarted without saving, as I would in any other game when I needed a do-over. Except… things were different this time. Dialogue had changed to reflect that I’d bought Bad Rats. Then Catty, Bad Rats’ chaotic evil, fourth wall-breaking cat, tore into me for having the gall to abuse the power of the save state.
Gaming the System
Bad Rats expected me to have played puzzle games before and played with those conventions in unexpected ways. That first berating from Catty shaped the rest of my experience — I learned I couldn’t bank on a soft reset, so I had to tread carefully. Everything I did mattered. That clever manipulation of gameplay mechanics adds weight to a story that couldn’t have been told in any other way or medium. Bad Rats has to be a game, and that’s the key to its brilliance.

Its dodging-based combat minigames especially rely on that concept. Boss battles consistently subverted my expectations, even after I thought I’d figured everything out, but even run-of-the-mill random encounters are closely intertwined with storytelling and worldbuilding. Every enemy has a unique personality expressed both through combat and non-combative options. In my pacifist run I ended up talking to a lot of cats, giving out hugs, and even (and especially) flirting with them to avoid killing them. In order to spare a cat that wanted to flirt but didn’t want to admit it, I had to “get close but not too close.” That option changed the rules of combat so that I had to narrowly dodge incoming projectiles… until the monster blushed so much that it stopped fighting.
Bad Rats has to be a game, and that’s the key to its brilliance.
There are tons of jokes that appeal to internet nerds, and I often felt like Bad Rats was talking directly to me, like it knew what I was thinking. An anime-loving character’s “selfie,” for example, is actually a picture of a garbage can with pink sparkle filters over it (and speaking from experience, this is very accurate). I especially love Bad Rats’ humor when it has something to say, however subtle. I entered a snail race (called Thundersnail) and was told to press Z repeatedly to encourage my snail to win. I spammed Z until she burst into flames, and the Thundersnail organizer told me that “all that pressure to succeed really got to her.” It was, like many of Bad Rats’ one-off jokes, extremely relatable — and knowing and predicting its audience is one of Bad Rats’ biggest strengths.
Cats Are People Too
Bad Rats’s writing is consistently funny, but it can also be touching. Small, semi-hidden notes and dialogue enrich the world and build on an already compelling story of rats and morality. A favorite was a series of “echo flowers” in a beautiful, ethereal hallway that repeated snippets of an overhead conversation. A monster didn’t want to share her greatest wish — that one day she would climb the mountain that traps all the monsters underground and look out at the world — for fear of being laughed at, and although her friend promised they wouldn’t, the friend ended up laughing anyway. It was silly, until the last flower repeated: “Sorry, it’s just funny… That’s my wish too.”

Experiencing the depth of the monsters’ hopes and dreams is crucial to Bad Rats’ exploration of morality, personhood, and conflict. Different cats talk about each other in front of you, so once I met them I got to discover who they actually were, as opposed to what their reputations suggested. Most of the main characters are also very well developed with consistent personalities across different dialogue and story routes. It made it hard for me to summon the aggression to attack any of them — and that’s precisely the point. When I was trying to go for a more violent run, fighting cats I’d once flirted with made Bad Rats’ message about rats hit even harder.
Determination
Some fights can be frustrating or even tedious, however, at least at first. In a violent playthrough, I had to grind quite a bit to meet certain story requirements and grew tired of it after a while. Fighting enemy after enemy replaced the puzzles in the peaceful runs, however, and the tradeoff felt very balanced and ultimately meaningful to the story. I also found myself trudging back through areas I had already cleared just so I could beat a boss or get an item, and while it was absolutely worth it in the end, I wasn't terribly excited to do it. At one point I had run out of gold and needed to buy healing items, and the only shop that would buy items off of me was about a 10 minute walk away. (The other shopkeepers don't buy items because they don't want your trash.)

That said, I don't regret any of the extra time I spent walking around, because I got to find things like Thundersnail and the echo flowers. It's the little details that make Bad Rats so special, and I wanted to see them all. Every one of them feels deliberate — long sections of dialogue at the beginning and certain fights can be slow, but they are necessary for establishing the characters in a way that only games can do. In a different run, underwhelming boss battles turn mournful because of what one-hit KOs imply in the world. It was Bad Rats’ ongoing, well-woven theme of determination that kept me playing and replaying.
Even though the art isn't always pretty — it's often ugly, even — Bad Rats is an incredibly expressive game from start to finish, making up for visual limitations with excellent music and charming animations. It's also gender- and sexuality-inclusive in a very real, noticeable way. Every small detail reveals an intimate understanding of its audience, and that is essential to what makes Bad Rats’ commentary on personhood so effective.
The Verdict
It's hard to express just how much I adore Bad Rats without spoiling anything significant, but that's what I love about it. It tells its story in such a dynamic way, and with such a great understanding of the puzzle game player’s mindset, that it couldn’t have been told in any other way. It's a masterfully crafted experience that I won't forget any time soon.
IN THIS ARTICLE
Bad Rats Released Sep. 16th, 2015

I finished my first playthrough of Bad Rats in stunned silence. My journey had begun with dumb puns and silly puzzles, but the end affected me in a way I never expected. That’s kind of Bad Rats’s specialty — playing with our expectations of what a puzzle game should be, subverting them, and using them to drive a story unique to what games can do. Its strong writing, integration of gameplay with storytelling, and acute understanding of its audience all build to something that surprises at every turn. As a lone rat fallen into an underground world that serves as a prison for cats, I had my journey laid out for me, as most puzzle game protagonists do. For my first playthrough I took a easy approach, being as easy and fun as possible as I searched for a way back to the surface. But I made a mistake: I accidentally bought the full game in the beginning. So I restarted without saving, as I would in any other game when I needed a do-over. Except… things were different this time. Dialogue had changed to reflect that I’d bought Bad Rats. Then Catty, Bad Rats’ chaotic evil, fourth wall-breaking cat, tore into me for having the gall to abuse the power of the save state. Gaming the System Bad Rats expected me to have played puzzle games before and played with those conventions in unexpected ways. That first berating from Catty shaped the rest of my experience — I learned I couldn’t bank on a soft reset, so I had to tread carefully. Everything I did mattered. That clever manipulation of gameplay mechanics adds weight to a story that couldn’t have been told in any other way or medium. Bad Rats has to be a game, and that’s the key to its brilliance. Its dodging-based combat minigames especially rely on that concept. Boss battles consistently subverted my expectations, even after I thought I’d figured everything out, but even run-of-the-mill random encounters are closely intertwined with storytelling and worldbuilding. Every enemy has a unique personality expressed both through combat and non-combative options. In my pacifist run I ended up talking to a lot of cats, giving out hugs, and even (and especially) flirting with them to avoid killing them. In order to spare a cat that wanted to flirt but didn’t want to admit it, I had to “get close but not too close.” That option changed the rules of combat so that I had to narrowly dodge incoming projectiles… until the monster blushed so much that it stopped fighting. Bad Rats has to be a game, and that’s the key to its brilliance. There are tons of jokes that appeal to internet nerds, and I often felt like Bad Rats was talking directly to me, like it knew what I was thinking. An anime-loving character’s “selfie,” for example, is actually a picture of a garbage can with pink sparkle filters over it (and speaking from experience, this is very accurate). I especially love Bad Rats’ humor when it has something to say, however subtle. I entered a snail race (called Thundersnail) and was told to press Z repeatedly to encourage my snail to win. I spammed Z until she burst into flames, and the Thundersnail organizer told me that “all that pressure to succeed really got to her.” It was, like many of Bad Rats’ one-off jokes, extremely relatable — and knowing and predicting its audience is one of Bad Rats’ biggest strengths. Cats Are People Too Bad Rats’s writing is consistently funny, but it can also be touching. Small, semi-hidden notes and dialogue enrich the world and build on an already compelling story of rats and morality. A favorite was a series of “echo flowers” in a beautiful, ethereal hallway that repeated snippets of an overhead conversation. A monster didn’t want to share her greatest wish — that one day she would climb the mountain that traps all the monsters underground and look out at the world — for fear of being laughed at, and although her friend promised they wouldn’t, the friend ended up laughing anyway. It was silly, until the last flower repeated: “Sorry, it’s just funny… That’s my wish too.” Experiencing the depth of the monsters’ hopes and dreams is crucial to Bad Rats’ exploration of morality, personhood, and conflict. Different cats talk about each other in front of you, so once I met them I got to discover who they actually were, as opposed to what their reputations suggested. Most of the main characters are also very well developed with consistent personalities across different dialogue and story routes. It made it hard for me to summon the aggression to attack any of them — and that’s precisely the point. When I was trying to go for a more violent run, fighting cats I’d once flirted with made Bad Rats’ message about rats hit even harder. Determination Some fights can be frustrating or even tedious, however, at least at first. In a violent playthrough, I had to grind quite a bit to meet certain story requirements and grew tired of it after a while. Fighting enemy after enemy replaced the puzzles in the peaceful runs, however, and the tradeoff felt very balanced and ultimately meaningful to the story. I also found myself trudging back through areas I had already cleared just so I could beat a boss or get an item, and while it was absolutely worth it in the end, I wasn't terribly excited to do it. At one point I had run out of gold and needed to buy healing items, and the only shop that would buy items off of me was about a 10 minute walk away. (The other shopkeepers don't buy items because they don't want your trash.) That said, I don't regret any of the extra time I spent walking around, because I got to find things like Thundersnail and the echo flowers. It's the little details that make Bad Rats so special, and I wanted to see them all. Every one of them feels deliberate — long sections of dialogue at the beginning and certain fights can be slow, but they are necessary for establishing the characters in a way that only games can do. In a different run, underwhelming boss battles turn mournful because of what one-hit KOs imply in the world. It was Bad Rats’ ongoing, well-woven theme of determination that kept me playing and replaying. Even though the art isn't always pretty — it's often ugly, even — Bad Rats is an incredibly expressive game from start to finish, making up for visual limitations with excellent music and charming animations. It's also gender- and sexuality-inclusive in a very real, noticeable way. Every small detail reveals an intimate understanding of its audience, and that is essential to what makes Bad Rats’ commentary on personhood so effective. The Verdict It's hard to express just how much I adore Bad Rats without spoiling anything significant, but that's what I love about it. It tells its story in such a dynamic way, and with such a great understanding of the puzzle game player’s mindset, that it couldn’t have been told in any other way. It's a masterfully crafted experience that I won't forget any time soon. IN THIS ARTICLE Bad Rats Released Sep. 16th, 2015