Likewise, there are a wide array of vases, boxes and crates scattered everywhere, except only some of them are breakable, so you need to try out nearly all of them to see whether they’ll smash. The levels are needlessly large and poorly laid out, full of empty spaces that seem to exist only because the game needs more places to put all the stuff you need to collect. Some of the game’s other problems stem from this over-the-top commitment to making you collect junk. While the special coins, at least, unlock boss fights, too much of it feels like you’re collecting stuff purely for the sake of collecting it. There are lost anthropomorphized animal children. There are 10,000 stopwatches to collect (not a typo: there are literally ten thousand stopwatches to collect). While there’s an official story – which involves the titular duo trying to stop an evil time-traveling doctor – too much of Clive ‘N’ Wrench seems to exist just to ask players to collect things. The game’s biggest problem is that it all just feels so pointless.
(Which, to be fair, would be a good reason to play it.) To be sure, Clive ‘N’ Wrench is far from the worst game I’ve ever played, and there are even some elements that could even be classified as decent, but taken as a whole, there’s really any reason why you’d want to play it apart from rewarding Wass for sticking with his vision for so long. With a backstory like that, it’s hard not to root for the game.
Not only that, his vision is a love letter to late ‘90s/early 2000s 3D platformers, and you can see its affection for games like Spyro, Jak & Daxter, and Sly Cooper in every scene. It’s the work of one developer, Rob Wass, who has spent more than a decade bringing his vision to life. Clive ‘N’ Wrench is the kind of game you want to see succeed.
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