A few years ago, Pathea released My Time at Portia. When I saw it was slice-of-life, a flame lit up under my ass. What can I say? I’m a simp for the genre. I’m obligated to drop the cash, so that’s what I did. I bought it, booted it, and my opinions began. I liked it, yet impressions were kind of lukewarm. It didn’t enthrall, but it wasn’t garbage, either.

However, it fails to stand out from the busy crowd. Once I moved to greener pastures, I never felt the pull to return. Then I heard about the sequel and got curious – there’s a winning formula waiting to be tapped into, and maybe it needed a second chance to do so. I’ve got high hopes, so with my PlayStation Portal, let’s go and visit Sandrock, shall we?

If you were to take a gander over at my review catalog, you’ll quickly notice an unhealthy infatuation. I’m hopelessly obsessed, not only because of the relaxing gameplay but also the cute chatter. The writing is usually wrapped in a blanket of charisma, and playing generally leaves me smiling like a dork. So, when that ingredient is missing from the recipe, it leaves behind a sizeable hole. Sadly, My Time at Sandrock needs filling – it’s over-saturated. 

In layman’s terms, it drones on and on, preventing any charm from breaking through. It’s frustrating because Pathea clearly had ambitions for everyone to feel distinct. If I try, I can actually sense the glimmers here and there. Unfortunately, those same sparks drown in a vast sea of redundancy. Basically, the uniqueness it attempts is neutered – the execution is flawed, causing the majority of NPCs to come off as generic.  

Hell, the banter that’s the bread and butter of Slice-of-Life is also sacrificed. In exchange, we’re blessed with inane rambling. As a scholar of excessive ranting, I think I’m qualified to call out when it’s too much…and it’s too much. I’m bummed that even the simple act of talking is handled in such an unnatural manner – nobody talks like they do. I don’t believe it, but the possibility of it being A.I generated did cross my mind.

Oh, the protagonist is mute, too, which is a whole other can of worms. During conversations, unless I picked her reply, she’s a wall of stoicism. In most cases, though, the NPCs act as if she has contributed. At that point, you’re better off giving my girl, Katarina, a damn voice. She obviously has one, judging by the reactions, so skimping out makes no sense. As is, the script reeks of cutting corners – it feels like a rough draft.

I know I’m being harsh on My Time at Sandrock. If I’m fair, literary prowess won’t always be a train wreck. On occasion, it can actually be decent. The catch is that the bulk of it happens when I’m trying to, as the kids say, rizz up the ladies. It’s confusing why the best seems reserved for romance.

Now, when I say the best, I don’t mean y’all are in for a treat. If anything, it’s adequate. As a bonus, unlike most of the story, it isn’t a chore to muscle through. Talented folks do wield the pen at Pathea. They have the ability to make the narrative special, but their chance is squandered. As a result, the awful aspects outweigh the respectable ones.

Another piece of goodness pertains to the letters I get. Not to mention that their authors are typically more fleshed out comparably. They’ve got tangible quirks and identities that I could latch onto. It was delightful hearing from my mom and the escapades of my close friend. The kicker is that for half the session, we don’t meet. If those I barely encounter are more memorable than those I mingle with daily, that’s an issue.

Let’s, however, address the hippo in the room because those notes are novels. Much like the dialogue, I was faced with a slab of text. The reason I’m not lambasting it is because context matters. When speaking to my amigos, I’m not spouting off a drawn-out monologue. It’s in fragments, which won’t translate well into a card. It makes sense to send them a blanket of thoughts, but Pathea seems to have adopted the notion of vomiting information regardless.

You know, this genre regularly receives flack due to folks thinking there’s an abundance. They dislike how free and genuinely open it is. Bollocks to that, I say. I adore these adventures exactly because they don’t have linearity. I can go at my own pace, doing whatever my heart desires, and set goals to slowly conquer. If I fancy flirting with the local blonde, I do that without repercussions. It’s carefree and causes zero stress. My Time at Sandrock nails the experience.

I role-play as an inventor and am responsible for a variety of duties. On some days, I may fancy massacring a trope of honey-gobbling ants. Conversely, I may want to venture into the mines to dig for treasure. My Time at Sandrock is sufficient for both, keeping me distracted. It took time to click actually that I was doing menial jobs. Sure, it isn’t introducing heart-thumping action, but still, the loop kept me satisfied. 

While we’re on the topic, scavenging isn’t complicated, seeing me batter giant mounds of dirt. Sure, it’s not the traditional small rock piles, but it’s still swell. The feeling of discovery remains intact, and locating materials is an easy jaunt, which is superb because crafting is central, pushing the core quest line forward, as well as side gigs. Perhaps it’s just me, but it’s gratifying to tick off a checklist and be rewarded.

Across the board, manual labor isn’t arduous. It’s smooth, rapid motions, and the fruits of it are well-balanced. Of course, I have to stay within the confines of my stamina bar, but if it’s too restrictive, don’t fret, as it can be extended. My only gripe, albeit flimsy, is a timer indicating when the metal has melted or wires have threaded. The wait can be long, but sleeping can lessen it, speeding up the process – not being constrained to an archaic bedtime is a beautiful thing.

Like Rune Factory, there’s combat, but it’s not a deep system. It’s so basic, in fact, that I had a hankering for Starbucks – making a white girl avatar is unrelated. There’s the standard slash, or I can cock and load a pistol. The mishap here is the lack of gyro controls. I didn’t mind it while on the PlayStation 5 proper, but on the Portal, it’s sorely missed. The portability lends itself to physically maneuvering the reticle. Without it, I often ignored ranged weaponry.

What I inexplicably adored was the option to refine my equipment to be stronger. Moreover, it gives credence to grinding, specifically for ore. Not only do I see a boost to overall damage, but the rarity might also be bolstered – common, uncommon, rare, or epic. That isn’t all, as each comes outfitted with perks, like additional health, and the available number depends on the tier – zero, one, two, and three, respectively.

For my interior design homies, home makeovers are a thing. Stools, framed photos, and beds are all options I can purchase or construct to decorate. In theory, it should’ve been splendid, but in practice, placement is so clunky. I fought with the game as I tried to situate a table. It was frustrating, so I gave up. I love the idea of it and how the furniture has nifty buffs. It gives it a pseudo-character build mechanic. For example, an epic lamp may give you a +17 defense increase. It’s intriguing, but the clumsiness is a deterrent.

I wasn’t kidding about crafting being integral to My Time at Sandrock. I say it’s the epicenter of the circle of life. Hell, most of the machines I’ll be utilizing can’t be bought, only made. Frankly, I don’t mind that, but the fun factor has an expiration date. Eventually, it becomes a slog due to how monotonous it is to make any headway. I’ve got to jump through many hoops to assemble what’s needed. It made my excitement wane, and I had to take a break, harming the prospect of long sessions.

A feature I was ecstatic about seeing is the fast travel. My Time at Sandrock has an enormous map by default, so instantly jumping between locations is mandatory. I love how I’m not teleporting from spot to spot, either. Nope, a wagon taxi drives me to my destination. I appreciate that touch of realism. It’s grounded, continuing the tug-of-war of trying to maintain immersion, but a decision does sour my goodwill. 

Let me set the stage: stores have hours of operation. I’m down with that, but aggravation seeps in when, due to the fast travel system being a bus-like service, there’s a schedule, which is stupid, so damn stupid. If I’m exploring until the early morning, I’m out of luck. The drivers are sleeping, meaning I’ve got a long trek ahead. If I’m near my house, it’s whatever. It’s when I’m far away that it gets me irritated. There’s no hiding the tedium I endured, and I had to take that walk of shame frequently. Why, in God’s name, this mechanic isn’t infinite use is way beyond me, but it’s a travesty.

If you’re aroused by a solid skill tree, My Time at Sandrock may please. Moreover, the method it functions in is ripped straight out of, surprise, Rune Factory’s book. See, despite being able to level, that’s not how I earn skill points. I have to perform certain actions continuously – doing so improves my efficiency. If I crave rarer gems, chipping away at rocks is the key. If battles are my forte, I best get to kickstarting a bloody bloodbath. Nothing about this facet innovates, but it is engaging. 

I’ve already alluded to this feature, but to double confirm, there are main and side quests. The former is automatic, being given as I move the narrative along. The latter is distributed from a bulletin board where villagers leave requests, usually asking for specific items. I hear the sighs and understand fetching isn’t ideal, but it’s a necessary evil as it’s useful for being paid.

The visuals join in the disappointment. It isn’t due to ugliness, but the graphics definitely don’t do the PS5 any justice. Be that as it may, I can say it’s vibrant. The models are detailed, and I like that cartoony, clay-like appearance everyone has. The hiccups stem from a pair – the first is a couple of the animations. Picture a gathering of NPCs – minutes elapse before applause erupts, but no one moves. The disconnect between noise and perception is a death note for immersion. It’s jarring to see. What’s odd is this same scenario is recycled, but as the claps roar, their hands flail this time.

The second is lack of expressiveness from the people of Sandrock. As we spoke, the facial expressions were limited, if not null. There are no smiles or snarls. Instead, what I’m commonly served is this uncanny valley-type glare. There’s barely any blinking, which is simply unsettling. At least the walking, jumping, and swinging of an ax is silky and flows. It’s staring into those soulless eyes that’s troubling. It’s the final nail in killing immersion – there are no illusions of life.

After the disastrous chugging with My Time at Portia on the Switch, I opted for the powerhouse console. In my head, I figured it would eliminate the stutters – Yeah, optimization is just bad. Even with a monster processor, pop-ins occur regularly. Sometimes, when going towards an open field, I stop suddenly as a structure appears abruptly in front of me. NPCs also have a nasty habit of glitching during quests, soft-locking the title as I no longer can interact with them. I had no choice but to reset. What helps it be easy to digest is the auto-save; it’s generous.

Musically, My Time at Sandrock does a stellar job of evoking a calm atmosphere. Running through the town is tranquil, and thanks to the string instruments, it gives Sandrock a country vibe. The soundtrack, while it isn’t earth-shattering, is composed with gusto. There’s even a part early on that sees an old man singing, and the song is toe-tappingly catchy. That doesn’t extend to the voice acting as a whole, though. It suffers from poor delivery. Parts that demand personality are met with flatness. I did enjoy the accents, even if they’re stereotypical, but that isn’t enough to rescue the overall quality from being largely mediocre.

My Time at Sandrock, as a game, is fine. Honestly, I did have fun. If you’re looking for something that will blow your socks off, this title isn’t it. If you’re gunning for a delightful, easy-going romp, then it’s for you. Yeah, it doesn’t do anything I haven’t seen before, and a strong case can be made that it’s bland, but it functions. Having actual voices should have been the beacon to bring it to the next degree, but the ball’s fumbled due to the robotic performances. It’s a shame, as the potential is tantalizingly close to being realized. I still suggest buying but with the asterisk of a discount. I mean, I sunk 50+ hours because I do like it, but it’s just so forgettable.

 

Graphics: 7.0 I when the visuals aren’t pulling a Houdini, they’re actually quite nice. I find the clay-like aesthetic to be charming in itself. The detail to the homes, animals, and even the items found while scavenging is above and beyond.	Gameplay: 7.0 It’s fine. It’s totally fine. That’s the issue, though, because it isn’t much different to My Time at Portia. The gameplay is damn near identical, in fact. It would have been nice if they tried something new.
Sound: 7.0 Like the music, and I like the original song. The voice acting feels as if the actors had no direction. Some are great, like Pan. He’s great, but he’s overshadowed by the others.	Fun Factor: 6.0 It’s fine. It’s totally fine. The characters leave a lot to be desired. The fast travel system is a decision that’s certifiably mind-boggling, but I enjoyed what I played. I’ve moved on since writing and I can’t say I’m yearning to come back.
Final Verdict: 7.0

My Time at Sandrock is available now on Nintendo Switch, Xbox One, Xbox Series X|S, PC, and PlayStation 5.

Reviewed on PlayStation 5.

A copy of My Time at Sandrock was provided by the publisher.