‘The Plucky Squire’ Review: A Charming Adventure, Inside and Out

While The Plucky Squire’s hero, Jot, can eventually meta-magically step outside of the game’s literal storybook world and rearrange objects and words in order to change the plot of a fairy tale, that outside-the-box thinking is merely a deeply satisfying gimmick. Where the game truly thrives is on the page itself, in the lush, splayed-out two-page illustrations across which Jot, a writer and knight-in-training, must fight Grump soldiers, solve light environmental puzzles, and punnily converse with the residents of Mojo, the land of creativity.

When riffing on video game classics, from a Punch-Out battle against an angry honey badger to a Resogun-style shootout around the circumference of a coffee mug label, The Plucky Squire is a joyful adventure. Even at its most derivative, as when it’s tipping its hat to early Zelda titles in everything from its transitions to its perspectives on the action, the game is charmingly illustrated. It’s also very funny. But, then, humor is in the ear of the behearer, so your mileage will vary. After all, this is a game where you’ll meet a bunch of thespian gastropods in Snailford-Upon-Avon and learn that the panda standing by a stack of soup cans is named Pandy Warhol.

The price that The Plucky Squire pays for its inventive narrative is a hyper-linear adventure. Players are progressing through a storybook, moving from verso to recto, and though Jot can sometimes flip to an earlier page, there’s usually only one way forward. And as you’re tasked with rearranging words to do so, you may find yourself wishing for something more in the vein of Scribblenauts, which invites lateral thinking and allows you to make your own solutions.

But, then, the worst thing that can be said about The Plucky Squire is that it’s overly easy, what with your bookwork pal Page or the little wizard named Minibeard that you encounter at one point always at hand to provide a hint even if you haven’t requested it. Even then, that all feeds into the story’s genial, family-friendly nature, as this is a game where you’re playing within the pages of a children’s book, found on 10-year-old Sam’s desk, surrounded by the kid’s scattered Legos blocks, paint kits, modeling tools, and the other paraphernalia of a creative youth.

These objects serve to emphasize the correlation between the imaginary 2D and the “real” 3D world. Each time players travel out of the book, it’s into an obstacle course assembled from household items and illustrations, showing us Sam’s wider interests in everything from elven fantasy to dollhouses, dinosaurs, and rocketry. Jot’s ability to interact with The Plucky Squire book—tilting the objects within it, stamping explosives into the scenery—captures the way in which children engage with stories. At first, Jot is just following a pre-existing narrative, but before long, he’s stepping outside the confines of the page to imagine new tales of his own.

Also thoughtful is the way that the game positions Jot’s conflict with the evil wizard Humgrump as a metaphor for Sam’s own struggles. As Humgrump assumes control of the narrative, Sam’s inspiration fades and both the kid’s world and that of the book drain of color. This is what happens when inspiration is smothered by rejection: It leads Sam to turn all those playful objects into a too-tidy and unassailable fortress in which room is only made for work.

That context lends real stakes to the fictional pursuits of Jot and his two childhood friends: Violet, a witch who dabbles in painting, and Thrash, a mountain troll with a penchant for drumming. Their successes are Sam’s, and the player’s. The Plucky Squire emphasizes the importance of our dreams, hoping to motivate players in the same way that the book within the game aims to cheer on Sam. Creativity doesn’t have to be perfect—it just has to be inspiring. And in that regard, The Plucky Squire knows how to always pick itself up and keep going.

This game was reviewed with a copy purchased by the reviewer.