Sludge Life is something of a contradiction. It's not a good game, but it's certainly worth playing. How does that add up? Well, based on gameplay, mechanics, and value, it's merely so-so. Judged on its sense of style, its fearless personality, and its artistic merit, though, it's absolutely fascinating. So, if you're looking for the next great indie game on Switch, keep looking. If, however, you're looking to spend a couple of hours in an anarchistic fever dream or find new ammunition in the "are video games art?" debate, then look no further.

If there's a story to Sludge Life, it's not entirely clear. You enter the game as Ghost, a graffiti artist. As you emerge from the shipping container that doubles as your home, you come face to face with a world that feels post-apocalyptic. The entire surface is covered in an inky black sludge. In and around the sludge are hovercrafts — perhaps the main means of conveyance in this inexplicable place? — and several buildings, include a hanger, a laboratory, a communications relay, a burger restaurant, a rec center, an apartment building, and, most imposing of all, the Glug Tower. Inhabiting the area are dozens of bizarre characters and creatures, including rival taggers, cyclopes, mutants, a giant baby, and a cat with two buttholes. Yes, you read that right.

Sludge Life doesn't do much telling; it's much more interested in showing. It's up to you as the player to piece together the oddities of the world into a cohesive narrative, if you can. Ultimately, it's a refreshing approach. It invites you into its weird, impossible universe and lets you soak it in at your own pace.

That laissez-faire attitude extends to gameplay. Terri Vellmann, who designed and programmed the game, deposits you in the sludge without any clear goals or objectives and lets you figure it out on your own. It's very liberating, if a little intimidating at first. You can go wherever you please within the game's smallish sandbox, visit landmarks in whichever order you like, and opt to pursue one of three different endings, or just wander without purpose and let the experience wash over you.

The game has some structure, of course. As Ghost, you'll move around in a first-person perspective, spraying your trademark green ghost insignia on any available tag spots, and locating several different apps and items. Apps include a To-Do List (essentially a list of achievements), a satellite imaging map, and a couple of mini-games to be played in the game's home menu, which looks like a Windows operating system circa 1992. Items include a camera, which flags open tag spots; a hang glider; a portable teleporter; and Vandal Eyes (you'll have to figure that last one out by yourself). 

Most of the game revolves around tagging open graffiti spots, which requires a good amount of exploration and 3D platforming. Some tag spots are in impossibly high or difficult-to-reach locations, so you'll need to leverage your tools and the environment — ladders, hand-holds, ledges, vents, and pipes — to reach your destination. With 100 tag spots, the process can get tedious, but it's generally rewarding to discover the right path to the prize.

Discovery really is the name of the game in Sludge Life. The joy is in the uncovering of things; whether it's chancing upon the weird fauna that inhabit the sludge, finding an edible banana slug on top of a stack of filing cabinets, meeting a talking cat, or recognizing a secret entry point. 

The problem is that there isn't enough of this to go around. Sludge Life only lasts for a couple of hours, although you could extend that playing time by going for all 100 tag spots and every last achievement. There also isn't a lot of variety or depth to the gameplay. After the initial novelty wears off, there isn't much left to extract from the experience. Each character only voices one or two lines of dialogue, the world isn't dynamic, and the sandbox is relatively small — although, to be fair, it's packed densely with buildings and objects.

There's enough weirdness in Sludge Life to justify a single excursion, but not much to prompt repeat visits. The directionless nature of the game works against it here, especially because the moment-to-moment gameplay isn't good enough to make up for a lack of structure and order. Indeed, many elements of Sludge Life work against its usefulness as a game, even as they enhance its artistic credentials.

One cool thing about Sludge Life worth noting: if you're lucky enough to find the "Crypt Keeper" app out in the wild, you can return to your home menu to play a game within a game. It's a fairly simple point-and-click tile game, but it's a neat diversion from the main adventure.

Whether you're browsing your desktop or adventuring in the muck, Sludge Life boasts a unique, captivating aesthetic. Thanks to its antique Windows OS, VHS filter, and low-res/low-poly graphics, the game has a retro, nostalgic vibe. Boosting that vibe is a collection of electric hip hop tunes from doseone (Enter the Gungeon).

In performance terms, this Switch port acquits itself honorably, save for a few framerate hiccups when entering new areas. One small glitch is also worth noting, as you may run into it. Right before the "good" ending, I ran into a bug that caused me to clip through walls and floors. The development team will address this in a future update; in the meantime you can restart the game to clear the issue. 

Sludge Life is paradoxical. As a video game it's short, shallow, and often rudderless. As an artistic experiment, however, it's powerful, expressive, and bold. Additional directives, more varied gameplay, and a bigger world would enhance the overall experience, but might dilute the thoughtful weirdness of the game. In any event, keep this one on your radar. Love it or hate it, you'll never forget it.