We Happy Few Review

Bringing Rebellion To The Normies .

Read Time 9 minutes

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“ ...Yup, guess life in a world of forced smiles really does sound pretty dystopic, alright... ”

Imagine a world where smiling isn't just encouraged—it's mandated by law. Well, as awful as it sounds, that's precisely the reality of the fictional town of Wellington Wells, a beautiful yet twisted Wonderland where everyone wears unnervingly wide smiles, not out of their own will, but due to a psychedelic drug called Joy. As it turns out, beneath the facade of vibrant streets, bizarrely upbeat citizens, and synthetic bliss lies a sinister reality—one where defying conformity turns you into an outcast labelled as a "downer," banished to obscurity while the blissfully ignorant carry on their merry way.

From minute one, the game wastes no time in throwing you into a river of chaos, placing you in the shoes of one of three protagonists while daring you to blend in among the grinning maniacs to unravel the mysteries lurking beneath the city’s exterior. Moving forward, you'll be forced to navigate a world where appearances, to the point of wearing matching socks and the right pair of shoes, become a matter of survival, and the challenge is to avoid succumbing to either the pills or the pitchforks.

Despite the strong premise, We Happy Few has left players and critics divided. When it came out years ago, the game was plagued with an avalanche of bugs, ranging from minor glitches to game-breaking issues, which made its AAA price tag extra tough to swallow. While many of the technical issues have since been ironed out, the game remains an odd raft, juggling so many systems that it often feels like it's doing too much for its own good. The result is an awkward experience that has you constantly wondering, "Is this worth playing?" The answer depends entirely on how much of said 'Joy' you’re willing to swallow.

To me, it's awry clear that the developers aimed for the stars, but, fact is, such ambition turned out to be a double-edged sword—to no one's surprise. It's hard to sum up We Happy Few in a single phrase—it's equal parts brilliant and clumsy, and for every triumph, there’s a stumble. Overall, the game’s lofty aspirations and chaotic execution make it a peculiar piece that can be difficult to appreciate... or, at least while playing lucid and sobered up.

Developer: Gearbox Publishing

Publisher: Compulsion Games

Release Date: July 26, 2016

Platforms: PS4, Xbox One, PC

Genre: Action, Adventure, Survival

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Blending In With Those Who Wronged Us: Climbing Society's Ladder .

From the moment you set foot in the intriguing world of We Happy Few, it becomes crystal clear what you've gotten yourself into—for better or worse, there's a sea of trouble ahead. Truth is, the game doesn’t gently ease you into its dystopian nightmare; it throws you into the deep end in the opening moments, quickly establishing the stakes. For starters, we take on the role of Arthur Hastings, one out of three of the game's main protagonists—an unassuming office worker whose existence crumbles when his Joy-induced haze begins to wear off. As it turns out, sobriety is a punishable offense in Wellington Wells, and Arthur’s lapse lands him in immediate danger.

Dragged by his ankles to the bottom of society’s pecking order for daring to question the status quo, Arthur now finds himself scavenging for scraps whilst being haunted by the memories of his long-lost brother Percy, whom had been forcefully erased from his memories as a side-effect of his years partaking in the conformity rituals. This establishes his quest to uncover the truth about his sibling’s fate as the thread tying the narrative together, but the journey is far from straightforward—numerous obstacles abound, and with Arthur at rock bottom, it’ll surely be a long climb to even the slightest semblance of control.

What lies ahead is a sprawling open world full of possibilities. Dotting the landscapes, we'll find numerous points of interest, ranging from ruined buildings, abandoned shelters, and old forts to entire communities in the outskirts of town, remnants that tell the story of a society fractured by its past. It's obvious that a great deal of effort went into the visual storytelling, and it paid off with an environment made to hint at the town's history of devastation.

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Between ever-hostile NPCs and the constant pressure to conform, we're not just against the system—we're against an army of psychopathic vigilantes dressed up as samaritans.

At first glance, the whole concept feels brimming with promise but it doesn't take long for cracks to show—although the atmosphere initially appears throbbing with potential, it soon becomes clear that the game is merely playing dress-up, hiding its lack of depth behind a surface-level appeal. The open-world structure is deceptively linear, often funneling you down predetermined paths despite the illusion of freedom. While the game's procedural generation ensures that no two adventures are identical, the downside is that the world often feels shallow, repetitive, and even artificial at times, which drains players out of the desire to explore almost entirely.

That aside, with little more than fetch quests to fill the gaps between story beats, it's rather easy to feel like you're trudging through waves of filler content as opposed to actively driving the narrative forward. Many quests lack the depth or creativity to stand out, leaving them to blur together into a monotonous routine of running errands and checking off tasks just for the sake of it. In other words, what could have been an opportunity to immerse players further in the world's peculiarities often feels like little more than padding made with the sole purpose of distracting us from the central narrative.

What makes this combo particularly frustrating isn't just how it curbed my excitement almost entirely—it’s the lingering sense of wasted potential. The lack of polish in all areas, even after all this time, is simply hard to ignore and while bugs aren't as common as they once were, the game still suffers from occasional glitches that pop up now and then. All of this combined results in a game that feels like it’s tripping over its own ambition, unable to reach the heights it seemed poised to achieve.

Not Just Sunshine And Rainbows: When The Illusion Wears Off .

Moving on from the torrent of complaints, I'll have to admit that We Happy Few does have moments where it doesn’t completely faceplant over its own ridiculousness, surprisingly enough! Let’s be real: there’s no denying that the game pulls out some interesting tricks, even if they’re often buried under layers and layers of frustration. In the midst of all the critiques about clunky mechanics and awkward pacing, there are a few moments that manage to shine through the murk. After all, a world like Wellington Wells isn’t made up entirely of missed opportunities—it’s got its good parts as well!

However, when it comes to gameplay, We Happy Few shits the bed yet again with a barrage of systems that make you feel like you’re constantly juggling atop a tightrope. On its relentless pursuit of standing out, the game introduces a wide array of mechanics, with some being specifically designed to keep you on your toes.

One such example is the survival system, where you have to manage thirst, hunger, and sleep to avoid debuffs ranging from a variety of ailments like reduced stamina, lower attack damage, or sometimes even lose the ability to defend against attackers. At first, this seems like a clever way to immerse the player in a world where staying alive is a constant struggle, but it quickly becomes exceedingly punishing, creating an experience where you’re perpetually watching the UI for whatever you need to take care of next to avoid getting further debilitated.

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Almost every street corner is patrolled by bobbies—authoritative law enforcers who don't tolerate disorderly behavior, combating crime and bringing order to the city's public areas.

The constant need to scavenge for supplies to fend off starvation might have worked well if the game had, you know, struck a better balance in making it less of a nuisance. Instead, surviving boils down to breaking into homes for scraps that sustain you momentarily, creating a loop that’s more exhausting than it is engaging. What’s worse is that failing to meet these needs doesn’t create dramatic consequences so much as it adds to a growing list of small tasks that chip away at the fun, being more frustrating than anything.

And speaking of frustration, take combat, for example—it’s functional but feels more like an afterthought, with melee fights being more of a hassle than a confrontation worth getting into. While, yeah, sure the game wants you to avoid combat as much as possible by sneaking around obstacles, but sometimes you're kind of forced into brawls, as encounters are structured in a way you can't easily get past them without getting yourself in deep trouble. The main issue is that clumsy controls paired with inconsistent enemy behavior makes both sneaking or fighting seem like unattractive options, so you have to resort to constant tactical retreats to pass around areas unscathed or risk being thrown in another basic punching contest where you're usually on the losing side.

On the same note, exploration fares similarly—one moment, you’re walking around; the next, the entire town is chasing you for something as inoffensive as jumping around and bumping shoulders with someone. And, believe me, it gets ridiculous to the point of hearing the townsfolk scream accusations of you of being a 'bloody killer' for just trying to get around. Every little misstep is extremely punishing, and avoiding minor offenses requires you to concentrate hard just to keep the hide-n-seek sequences from starting all over again.

Ultimately, while these constant pressures should heighten the tension, in practice, they serve only to dull the experience. Even though the concept of limited resources fits the game’s premise, the cycle of having to escape from hordes of NPCs every ten minutes gets tiring real quick. It bogs down the pacing, and the sense of urgency quickly turns into tedium, with the payoff for pushing through being only more of the same, again and again until you finally give up.

The Seeds Of Happiness Begin To Sprout: A Peek On The Bright Side .

Before we draw the curtains on this review, let’s step back for a moment to talk about something I genuinely appreciated about We Happy Few: the persistent glimpses of how brilliant the game could have been. Despite its flaws, there are moments where the mechanics, themes, and setting align, offering a taste of the potential buried beneath the surface. This is kind of a shame because, by this point, many players might already have been worn down and are now lacking even a hint of motivation to keep going.

Take the skill system, for example. While unlocking perks requires a reasonable time and effort investment, the abilities you earn can significantly ease the game's more frustrating mechanics, providing a worthwhile payout. There are some skills that allow you to ignore hunger, thirst, and fatigue altogether, effectively nullifying what would otherwise be a tedious slog of resource management. Unlocking these perks can feel like reaching the light at the end of a tunnel, and let me tell you, making the game as hurdle-free as it can be felt liberating, but at the same time, it begs the question—why create systems so unpleasant that players feel obligated to sideline them entirely?

Anyhow, these perks make a world of difference, especially when it comes to navigating Wellington Wells’ oppressive rules. For instance, early on we learn that walking around at night is strictly prohibited due to a citywide curfew, and without the right skills, you’re either forced to rest the night or risk getting dragged into a "pop-the-piñata" session by the city patrol. It's like hitting a switch, and suddenly, walking around at night no longer feels like a constant headache.

Throughout the game we'll come across numerous hideouts, which act as checkpoints to help us evade the city's numerous barriers and to help us safely travel between regions.

Following the exact same rationale, crafting also complements the gameplay well, providing players with tools to mitigate some of the harsher aspects of exploration. From lockpicks and healing balms to clever gadgets like the "sneaky shoes" that reduce player-emitted noise, crafting allows for a degree of 'maneuverability' in how you approach challenges. While the system isn’t groundbreaking by any means, it adds a layer of resourcefulness that feels in line with the game’s themes.

Unfortunately, crafting does suffer from some of the same pitfalls as the rest of the game, as many recipes are either too situational or get overshadowed by more straightforward solutions. Still, when crafting works to grant us slight advantages or to create lockpicks out of hair clips to open locked doors, it works well, offering a rare sense of agency in an otherwise restrictive world.

Completing quests, too, becomes far more manageable once you’ve unlocked key skills and gained access to better tools. Many of the game’s missions feel like a chore early on, but as you gain momentum, the experience becomes more fluid. Certain perks, like those that allow you to sprint without drawing attention or pass unnoticed in hostile areas, transform even the most frustrating objectives into straightforward tasks. Overall, these improvements help the game feel more accessible in its later stages by giving players the freedom to focus on what really matters as opposed to having to constantly grapple with artificial roadblocks.

In the end, these few mechanics, while not entirely spotless by themselves, underscore the potential We Happy Few had to be something truly special. It's like the developers knew the direction they wanted to go but struggled to carve out a path to get there. The tragedy lies in how these systems are presented—as remedies for problems the game itself creates rather than integral parts of a cohesive experience. Had these mechanics been integrated from the start, we probably wouldn't have to wonder what could have been if the game’s bold ideas had been allowed to flourish in harmony.

Final Thoughts: When All Attempts To Achieve Eternal Bliss Fail .

To clue y'all in, I waited a long time to dive into We Happy Few, holding out hope that post-launch updates and patches would finally deliver the polished experience I had been waiting for several years. Was it worth the wait? If you've read this far, then you know the answer is unfortunately no. Despite years of fixes, tweaks, and updates, the game still feels like a jumbled mess of missed potential. While its vibrant premise and distinctive world-building initially draw you in, the underlying flaws remain too glaring to ignore, leaving an experience that’s more frustrating than fun.

The game feels like a glutton at an all-you-can-eat buffet, thoughtlessly piling its plate high with systems and ideas that seem exciting in theory but rarely work together in practice. From survival mechanics to stealth, crafting, and combat, the game spreads itself thin across too many concepts without excelling at any of them. This scattershot approach robs the game of focus and cohesion, leaving players with a muddled experience that struggles to appeal to any specific audience. Without standout features to anchor the weight of layers upon layers of lackluster design decisions, the game becomes just like Frankenstein—a soulless patchwork of genres that never truly comes alive.

Although the potential for greatness was there, the execution fumbled catastrophically. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly where things went wrong, but it’s obvious that the game’s indie roots collided with an ambition too big for its britches. Instead of sticking to a focused vision, it tried to reach for AAA-level complexity and scope without the resources or expertise to pull it off. By trading certainty for lofty goals, We Happy Few set itself on a path of no return, leaving behind a trail of good ideas that would never come to be fully realized.

At its core, We Happy Few could have been something special had it stuck to its original goalpost. There’s a quirky charm in its premise and aesthetic that might resonate with a niche audience, but its inability to stay true to itself alienates the very players who might have embraced it with open arms. As for those who manage to endure the game’s frustrations and find joy within the chaos, they deserve to earn the title of the “happy few” among us. However, for most, this game is little more than a hollow collection of mismatched parts—a pretty ship from afar, but with no one at the helm to guide it, destined to crash and burn.

Atmosphere-rich world, with an eerie mix of retrofuturism and dystopian setting it apart from other games.

Intriguing premise and overarching themes set the stage for a compelling narrative foundation.

Offers some flexibility with stealth, combat, and crafting, allowing for different approaches to challenges.

Art direction and environmental storytelling effectively capture the twisted, psychedelic vibe of the game.

Shallow gameplay with some mechanics feeling more like chores than meaningful engagements.

Shallow world, with points of interest lacking variety mainly due to procedural generation

Lackluster missions, with mostly fetch quests and other meaningless tasks dominating the experience.

Persistent glitches and bad design decisions undermine the experience even after years of patches.

We Happy Few

A captivating world and intriguing premise are held back by a lack of polish in multiple areas. Despite flashes of brilliance, the experience struggles to balance quality with quantity, offering only glimpses of what could’ve otherwise been a truly remarkable game.