Undertale is one of those games that takes the good ol’ JRPG formula, flips it upside down, shakes it until loose coins fall out, and then politely hands you back something both familiar and very, very weird. At first glance, it looks like your typical retro-style RPG, but instead of the usual “select attack, press confirm, sip tea while animation plays” routine, you’re suddenly dodging a barrage of projectiles like you accidentally booted up a bullet hell shooter. And trust me, you’ll be dodging a lot. Your keyboard will feel like it just ran a marathon.

The game doesn’t just borrow inspiration from JRPGs—it screams it from the rooftops, waves a glowstick, and adds a wink-wink-nudge-nudge while it’s at it. The references range from subtle Easter eggs that make you grin like you’re in on a secret, to so-obvious-you-can’t-miss homages that hit you over the head with a foam bat. Either way, you’ll be smiling.

Now, don’t worry: Undertale isn’t the kind of RPG that demands you quit your job, live on instant noodles, and dedicate two weeks of your life to endless grinding. It’s a reasonably sized adventure with plenty of quirky encounters and enough narrative twists to keep things spicy. You won’t need to beg your boss for “Undertale leave.” Save that for when the next 100-hour AAA monster drops.

The story? Surprisingly heartfelt. The characters? Quirky, memorable, and sometimes unsettlingly relatable. It’s the sort of narrative that sneaks up on you—you come for the memes and end up with feelings.

Now, if I had to nitpick, my only gripe is the game’s “bug-or-feature” antics near the finale. Yes, I know it’s supposed to be meta. Yes, I know it’s intentional. But let’s be honest: at some points it behaves like your computer’s about to explode. It’s the kind of thing that feels like it deserves its own CVE number. (For my non-security friends: think of it as “so erratic it should be officially registered as a digital misbehavior.”) Once or twice is clever; overdoing it feels like Toby Fox wanted to troll me personally.

But here’s the bottom line: I had a blast. Undertale is witty, charming, and surprisingly moving. Definitely worth every minute, whether you’re dodging pixel-sized death or laughing at talking skeletons with a suspicious fondness for bad puns. And if you’re still unsure after this glowing review, just wait for a sale—it happens often, and trust me, the game’s worth even the full price.

Undertale is one of those games that takes the good ol’ JRPG formula, flips it upside down, shakes it until loose coins fall out, and then politely hands you back something both familiar and very, very weird. At first glance, it looks like your typical retro-style RPG, but instead of the usual “select attack, press confirm, sip tea while animation plays” routine, you’re suddenly dodging a barrage of projectiles like you accidentally booted up a bullet hell shooter. And trust me, you’ll be dodging a lot. Your keyboard will feel like it just ran a marathon. The game doesn’t just borrow inspiration from JRPGs—it screams it from the rooftops, waves a glowstick, and adds a wink-wink-nudge-nudge while it’s at it. The references range from subtle Easter eggs that make you grin like you’re in on a secret, to so-obvious-you-can’t-miss homages that hit you over the head with a foam bat. Either way, you’ll be smiling. Now, don’t worry: Undertale isn’t the kind of RPG that demands you quit your job, live on instant noodles, and dedicate two weeks of your life to endless grinding. It’s a reasonably sized adventure with plenty of quirky encounters and enough narrative twists to keep things spicy. You won’t need to beg your boss for “Undertale leave.” Save that for when the next 100-hour AAA monster drops. The story? Surprisingly heartfelt. The characters? Quirky, memorable, and sometimes unsettlingly relatable. It’s the sort of narrative that sneaks up on you—you come for the memes and end up with feelings. Now, if I had to nitpick, my only gripe is the game’s “bug-or-feature” antics near the finale. Yes, I know it’s supposed to be meta. Yes, I know it’s intentional. But let’s be honest: at some points it behaves like your computer’s about to explode. It’s the kind of thing that feels like it deserves its own CVE number. (For my non-security friends: think of it as “so erratic it should be officially registered as a digital misbehavior.”) Once or twice is clever; overdoing it feels like Toby Fox wanted to troll me personally. But here’s the bottom line: I had a blast. Undertale is witty, charming, and surprisingly moving. Definitely worth every minute, whether you’re dodging pixel-sized death or laughing at talking skeletons with a suspicious fondness for bad puns. And if you’re still unsure after this glowing review, just wait for a sale—it happens often, and trust me, the game’s worth even the full price.