The Indie Informer

“You just need to believe in your mouse soul,” Morsels developer Toby Dixon pronounced gravely.

By the end, I did. I still believe in it, even though the game’s window shift from February to sometime in 2025 tried to shake my faith and threaten my list of games likely coming this year.

Dixon’s seriously humorous responses to my increasingly quixotic prompts, like the quote above, made perfect sense. First, you must understand it was late in the afternoon — the last hands-on appointment at the end of a long day for both of us. We might have been loopy. However, the artist’s colorful work in games like Nidhogg 2 and Atomicrops suggests our colliding energies would have produced the same results either way. It’s a testament to the game that the whimsical conversation didn’t overshadow its compelling gameplay and boggling visuals.

Most of our discussion was philosophical. “If I become a morsel,” I asked after discovering the game’s transformation mechanics, “am I still a mouse on the inside?” My hero’s undiminished love of cheese — no matter what form it took — suggested I was on to something. And my ridiculous musings were met with equally silly ponderings on the deep inner lives of mice and morsels. Like its creator, the game exudes a certain comical gravity (especially where combat is concerned), and it’s best not to dwell on anything too long. You’re a mouse that becomes a misshapen creature to take advantage of varying fighting abilities — like you do.

Everything is ugly, but so beautiful. My very first intentional action is to hug an amorphous blob, which in turn tells me to believe in myself. It would be wholesome if the sight weren’t so off-putting. However, the story’s tone is hard to nail down as, for time’s sake, I head straight into combat. Dixon eases my concerns about skipping the narrative setup, assuring me it’s “not a story-heavy game.”

Combat is built on a twin-stick, bullet-hell foundation, but changes noticeably depending on which morsel form I inhabit. My first, which I chose because it seemed the happiest of the creatures, lets me shoot a single-file set of projectiles. Later down the line, I morphed into a creature that left a trail of fire behind it for enemies to run into. Passive or active attacks, the encounters were always intense.

Levels like mazes hid deeply hostile foes, earning the game a reputation for difficulty. So, I was cautious (or cowardly depending on how you look at it) when the action started. That seemed to do the trick though, as I navigated a squelchy pixelated landscape picking off enemies one by one and taking no damage myself. A secret exit point took me to a trainyard, where one of the metal deathtraps hit me. I didn’t take damage. Dixon laughed as he realized he’d accidentally triggered a developer tool that kept me from getting hurt. So, all my prior caution had been for naught.

I didn’t take any damage until I was up against a boss in the center of a laboratory level. And if you want to know how I went from dodging trains to infiltrating a science facility, I can’t help you because I’m not sure either. I warned you not to linger on rational questions for too long.

Even though you have to make peace with the game’s dream-like flow, it communicates its objectives and controls with ease. Don’t worry about being confused about anything that matters. I made it to the end of my time without frustration and was, more often than not, tickled by what was passing over the screen. Morsels is going to be a fun one.