As far as sequels with “Revenge” in the title go, Revenge of the Savage Planet bucks expectations. Rather than plunging into a dark second act, this follow-up to 2020’s Journey to the Savage Planet expands the original’s playful chaos, stretching its vibrant mix of platforming, exploration, and puzzle-solving across four wildly diverse alien planets. Though combat remains a sore spot, almost every other facet has been thoughtfully improved, delivering a weird, wonderful, and deeply satisfying adventure.
The game’s creation is laced with irony. After Typhoon Studios released the original game, Google acquired the developer for Stadia—only to shut it down shortly after the platform’s demise. Many of Typhoon’s former devs reemerged as Raccoon Logic, reclaimed the Savage Planet IP, and turned their experience into pointed satire. Here, you awaken from cryosleep to discover your former employer, Kindred Aerospace, was acquired by Alta Interglobal while you were out. Congratulations—you’ve been laid off in your sleep. Now marooned in an unfamiliar galaxy, your only goal is to exact revenge on the corporate overlords who wronged you.
That premise fuels a game that delights in lampooning corporate culture. Revenge of the Savage Planet leans into goofy satire, delivering jokes through fake FMV ads, in-universe commercials, and delightfully absurd scenarios—from a crypto-powered nostril miner to a song about urinating on company time. The humor is hit-or-miss in a Tim & Eric kind of way, but even the misses are more eye-roll-inducing than irritating. It’s irreverent, self-aware, and consistently lighthearted—until the final act, when the narrative veers into meta-commentary on game design. It’s a weaker, more meandering finale, but it doesn’t undermine the game’s charm.
Switching from first- to third-person turns out to be a great move. While it loses some of the Metroid Prime-esque immersion of the original, it adds cartoonish physical comedy to nearly every action. Your gangly protagonist sprints, slides, and flails their way across landscapes, often getting swallowed by giant creatures or launched through goo with a slapstick flair that matches the game’s silly tone.
Gameplay-wise, it’s a genre soup. You’ll find platforming, Metroidvania-style progression, light survival and crafting mechanics, creature capturing, and even home decor. As you unlock upgrades—like a grappling whip, underwater explorer, and goo-powered gadgets—each planet opens up with more traversal possibilities. Vertical design makes great use of these tools, encouraging you to swing across floating islands, descend into alien tunnels, or scale fungus-covered cliffs. Exploration is the real reward, with upgrades, lore bits, and visual oddities hidden around every bend.
Even when the objective marker is right in front of you, it’s easy to get sidetracked by something shiny in the distance. Whether it’s a pack of weird animals interacting with the environment or a suspiciously glowing cave entrance, the game invites and rewards curiosity.
You begin on Stellaris Prime, a lush, swampy planet reminiscent of the first game’s ARY-26. It becomes your hub, where you can print upgrades and customize your living quarters with bizarre furnishings. Want a toilet that ejects waste into a black hole? A hamster wheel gym? A hugging machine? Go for it. There’s no gameplay benefit, but the freedom to build a weird little home in the galaxy adds a cozy touch.
The other planets each bring their own flavor: arid deserts, molten tundras, alien rifts, and icy cliffs. Each ecosystem has its own puzzle elements, often tied to your tools and the game’s goo-based mechanics. The Power Hose and Goo Ingestor let you harvest and spray three types of goo, each with unique properties—electrifying, flammable, or adhesive. Used cleverly, these can solve environmental puzzles or dispatch enemies in inventive ways.
Unfortunately, combat is still the weakest link. Without goo-specific plants nearby, you’re stuck using a bland, underpowered pea shooter. Encounters feel tedious rather than thrilling. A creature-capture mechanic adds some variety—lassoing stunned enemies to teleport them back to your base unlocks cosmetic rewards—but even this wears thin. More often than not, I avoided combat altogether, not out of pacifism, but because fighting was simply dull.
Still, these shortcomings don’t overshadow what Revenge of the Savage Planet does right. Whether playing solo or with a friend (via online or split-screen co-op), it’s a jubilant, colorful experience that embraces its weirdness wholeheartedly. Raccoon Logic clearly poured their passion—and personal history—into this game, and it shows. From the slapstick traversal to the absurdist corporate satire, everything clicks, even if a few systems lag behind.
Revenge of the Savage Planet may have been born from corporate failure, but the result is anything but. It’s confident, chaotic, and—most importantly—fun. As sequels go, this one’s a gooey, giddy triumph.
