The Last Tinker: City of Colors review

The Last Tinker: City of Colors review

The Last Tinker: City of Colors review

by August 19, 2014

I’m trying to remember the six or so hours I spent playing The Last Tinker, and it all feels like a giant multicolored haze. There are a bunch of goofy characters, some jumping here, some combat there, and then it ends. It isn’t an unpleasant experience, but everything feels so decidedly average that I can’t put my finger on anything that stands out about it–and based on how whimsical it is, forgettable is the last thing it should be.

The Last Tinker puts you in the role of Koru, a young boy with bizarre, ape-like features and a knack for building things and mismatching his clothes. You live in Tinkerworld, a once peaceful place where everything is made out of color, paper, and glue that has since become bogged down in hue-based tensions. Each colored segment of Tinkerworld’s population has splintered off and formed their own district, and the once unified town is fractured, seemingly beyond repair. Enter The Bleakness: a white, goopy paint thinner-like substance that starts raining down from the heavens and destroying all the color in the city. As Koru, it’s up to you to unite the creatures of Tinkerworld, find the color spirits, and save the day. It takes a couple hours for the plot to get moving, but once it does, you’re in for colorful, if predictable ride.

It’s a simple story, but like a kid’s CGI movie, it’s not without its charms. The varied residents of Tinkerworld all have their own unique mannerisms and traits. Each of the citizens of Tinkerworld coo or bleat when they speak, with a papercraft word balloon hovering over their heads–it evokes memories of ’90s-era games like Banjo-Kazooie, and it’s all very cute. I mean, the sun has giant beady eyes, two arms, and a goofy smile, for crying out loud. If only the color scheme weren’t so painful to look at. The opening sections of The Last Tinker start out in a part of Tinkerworld that combines every single color in one garish mess, as though Dr. Seuss threw up all over a bunch of pastel Easter Eggs.