I was reminded of the understated farcical comedy masterwork that is Untitled Goose Game recently, after walking through Regent’s Park and seeing Canada geese and their goslings honking at tourists. I was with a friend who had never heard of it, and so a couple of hours later we were playing it on the Switch in a pub, honking and flapping and making life difficult for any human unfortunate enough to cross our path. The sheer physical comedy of the game – the goose’s waddling gait, the appalled reactions of the villagers, the mischievous glee of running away from a gardener with a trowel in my beak and throwing it into the pond – is delightful. If anything, it’s even funnier now, because you can play with two geese (one of you can run interference while the other steals sandwiches).
When people talk about funny video games, they often mention Monkey Island or Sam and Max – games with quippy writing and witty characters, wordplay, and self-referential puzzle design. But those games have only rarely made me laugh; an appreciative smile, sure, but never an involuntary hoot of amusement like those Untitled Goose Game embarrassingly elicits. Perhaps my comedy tastes lean more slapstick, but it’s always the games with dumb physics or amusing controls or absurd set-ups that crack me up – games where the experience of play itself is what’s funny.
