Furry Fury

I never used to swear much. I never used to get very stressed. I used to be able to sleep at night without tossing and turning, having the most frightening nightmares imaginable. Then I put the disc in…

Habitrail: Hamsterball is without a doubt the worst video game I have ever played. I hate it; it’s made me hate hamsters. It’s made me pessimistic, fragile and easily agitated. I should never have bought it. The fact that I spent my hard earned money on a game like this makes me sick to my stomach. I’m going to take a shot in the dark as to why you’re reading this, it’s for the same reason I’m writing it. We are all addicted. We keep getting our fix by any means necessary, no matter who it hurts or how negative of an impact it can have on our lives. We need help, and there is no rehab for addicts like us.

However long it takes, we need to finish the levels. We MUST have that tiny box filled with virtual hamster treats or we risk losing what minuscule fragments of sanity we still have lingering around in our Hamsterball shaped brains. I’m going to take a stand here; it’s not worth it! You will never gorge yourself on the hamster snacks, it’s just a game (twitches).

I, Sam Marshall have challenged myself to go where no man has gone before, I am going to try and understand the reasons why we are all shivering due to withdrawal from this game. It’s time to seek medical assistance.

Step One: Denial

We’re fine. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of indulgence. There are so many amazing things about this game! There are four different hamsters to be, a huge assortment of levels, local multiplayer, and there’s of course the hamster treats. There’s a really simple control scheme to go along with it, and unbelievable variance in the levels. Playing with up to three friends on one console was basically unheard of at the time, the beginning of the multitap era.

Step Two: Anger

What kind of game only uses half of the buttons assigned to you? You use the analogue stick to move around or the D-pad if you’re so inclined, other than that there are no buttons in use other than start. Your hamster doesn’t even like to move in the direction of the analogue stick, so I don’t understand why they wouldn’t add more buttons or refine the control system they’d already established. It causes for more frustration. I’ve felt like my brain was about to pop at points due to ‘Hammy’ the hamster swerving off in a dizzying state at the finish gate, missing the gate and falling off the edge of the level, only to shake his head and throw me right back to the start line. This game is unforgiving. Dark Souls is a walk in the park compared to this.

It feels like such a waste, there’s not even the slightest hint of a power up system that could’ve saved this game and let it have some bloody dignity instead of a secret cult of creeps, freaks and antisocial wrecks. The fact that they exhibit the amount of times you’ve failed a level on the HUD is a monumental kick in the balls. Why would anyone play this game considering your reward for winning is nothing other than the realisation that you just spent the past hour and a half dying at the same loop before the finish line?

This game likes to surprise you with gaps in the track and unavoidable obstacles that don’t rely on timing or precision, but on sheer endurance. There are glitches everywhere, from sinking through solid surfaces to ending up in the garden when you’ve fallen onto the washing machine. Why would they bother adding the textures for the garden on a level that you stay indoors?!

Step Three: Bargaining

Maybe we could have a slight break, a little bit of time apart. I just know that it’s always just going to be a matter of time until I’m back in front of the screen, veins at the ready and disc spinning in it’s tray of misery and doom. I feel like if I broke the disc, I would just hate myself for it, and eagerly track down another copy. I don’t feel like there’s an end to this cycle of terror and frustration.

Step Four: Depression

It’s not a good game. I’ve wasted days, maybe even months in total play time on this game. There’s something wrong with me. I do tend to be quite obsessive but I obsess over things that make me feel good about myself. This really does quite the opposite. I want to curl up into a ball of tears (even my metaphors reference it). There’s no escape, no way out. I’m going to die here.

Step Five: Acceptance

My name is Sam Marshall and I am a hamsterholic.

There, I said it. No matter how much this game hurts me I always end up back where I started.  I’m ready to get help and start moving onto new endeavours. My life can be so much more without Hammy. I promise myself that I will never lay hands on this game again, it will gather dust and if I leave it out of it’s box it may even stop working altogether one day. A peaceful death for such a virtual tyrant. I will miss it but I must learn to control myself and hope that my manoeuvrability will be better than that of the furry little shit that held a knife to my throat for so long.

I wish I had never written this.

Unfortunately, whilst securing information and images for this article I came across this…

I’m afraid for the first time I can’t give this game a rating. I am so internally conflicted about it. I hope you can understand and gauge for yourselves the reasons you should never play this game. Please stay away.

Conclusion

‘There will always be another one to take it’s place. Stay in school kids’