The dynamic between escapism in video games and work has become increasingly fascinating in recent years.  From pressure cleaning to truck driving, the strange allure of mechanical mastery within a gamified context has continually risen in popularity.  That line is blurred even more by the improved tactility and demanded movements of modern-day VR too.  Paw Print Games Ltd. and co-developer vTime Ltd. utilize this format to find the fun in being a border crossing guard a la Papers, Please.  Like its inspiration, the result is more engaging than it lets on.

The threshold of work and game is ironically interrogated within the opening minutes.  In the not-too-distant future, robots handle virtually all tasks across the city of Salvation Heights.  Due to some recent AI malfunctions, several humans have to join the workforce once again – just like the good 'ole days.  After being the first selected in this work lotto, your old shabby apartment is hastily disassembled just to rush you to this desk job. 


Naturally, the biggest split from Papers, Please is what's functionally allowed in virtual reality.  The segmented 2D panel of the outside world, the immigrant, and your desk have been fused into one cohesive 3D world.  The process remains functionally the same: those attempting to move ahead will deliver their required form and you assess it and them for any potential discrepancies before handing final approval or disapproval.  The meat of Border Bots is monotonous paperwork through the vein of a puzzle game.  And with new regulations arriving each day, everyone coming to your checkpoint is a new opportunity to test your perception, memorization, and deduction.

Fortunately, perception is relatively easy thanks to Bots' visual design.  This may not net top billing in either technical visuals or aesthetic, but the bright Megablocks-esque look serves a useful function.  Like the genus/species split in our taxonomic system, there are two main groupings all robots are filed under here: their class and model; there are general hard-set rules for a class (i.e. Rollers must move with a wheel) but then noticeable permutations between each model.  As you encounter each new variant more and more, it becomes more natural to instantly discern errors from their info-tablet.  Having a keen eye will become more important when each bot's tablet has a second page detailing potential body modifications; on a rare occasion, it can feel like a 'Bot of Theseus' scenario, where the bot has more body mods from a different model than its original manufactured appearance.

Of course, this class/model delineation is only the beginning over this 25-day period.  Visual information gets more specific, with color-coded manufacturer badges having to correspond with the correct color-coded districts.  Sometimes said badges can be counterfeit too, which is grounds for immediate rejection (possibly detention, depending on the daily assignment).  Since badges can be stamped practically anywhere on a bot's body, sometimes they must be rotated and shifted to find them.  You can start to see the multifarious ways to look out for potential missteps, lest you're upbraided by your omnipresent overseer's grating alarm.


Past the bountiful disparate elements to keep in check, the overarching tempo and difficulty pacing is downright scientific in execution.  As the amount of item-clutter continues to expand around your desk, new robot classes slowly incorporated, and new strictures put into your daily assignment board, there's a unique level of stress in ensuring who does or doesn't deserve a green stamp.  Player skill growth hinges on the rule flexibility from day to day; one day demands a specific robot class get tested for flammability, the next awards special treatment to VIPs.  There's something to be said about how well you acclimatize to early rules (matching tablet info, no contraband, etc.), such that your potential skill ceiling could have you assessing a bot's tablet whilst also shooting pesky mouse bots scurrying around the checkpoint. 

Life doesn't start and end at this booth either.  Due to your employment, you get an updated penthouse with nice accommodations.  This effectively serves as your down time to recoup from the border patrol sim and add more character.  Over the early days, you'll quickly gather a group of AI helper bots ranging from a crumb-hungry Roomba to a mischievous toaster, each adding a bit of kid-friendly fun.  Past the light-hearted world-building from these bots and daily broadcasts, this is also where you can purchase stuff ranging from new gloves to some booth upgrades, though the latter feels somewhat disappointing since it's limited to two quality-of-life additions; it's mostly a cosmetic shop for decorating the apartment or adding more tunes to your radio.


This pit stop, though fine in its own right, also highlights a missed opportunity so wonderfully captured in Papers, Please: the lasting moral quandaries baked within its mechanics.  On occasion your booth is visited by the robo-mob inveigling you to sneak contraband through or let someone with expired papers pass.  Certain actions run the risk of getting violations from your invisible supervisor, docking credits if you screwed up too many times already.  But you're not enduring major privations with an expansive family.  The only real costs to you are the successfully-aggravating violation notice and less money for extra goodies.  Now, this also isn't to say Border Bots should be a 1:1 parallel with its clearest inspiration; stuff like the Eastern Bloc setting and political context make that more difficult for this atmosphere.  Even with those considerations, there still could've been meatier context and more dimension past influencing one of three endings. 

While still robust and detailed, the gameplay could've used another layer of polish too.  Aside from a few hand-tracking qualms and minor bugs, sometimes special items wouldn't properly function, so it'd be easier to roll the dice on a decision to move ahead to the next one in line or outright hard reset to start the day over.  Because of how cluttered the booth eventually gets, the general layout can get annoying at times.  Finally, one of the strangest issues stems back to the overseer making incorrect judgments.  There've been rare times where I'd correctly rejected a bot labeled the wrong model or whatnot and yet still received a violation.


As hinted earlier, storytelling isn't Border Bots' strong suit.  The nuts and bolts are mostly fashioned how anyone would suspect, but some credit is owed to its presentation.  Even if coming off too corny with some pun-laced jokes (pot meet kettle), the various human and android characters comfortably fit into their designated roles – be it friend or quasi-rival – and are voiced by quality actors.  Even though the general atmosphere around most characters does work, it still feels like there could've been more flesh on these bones.  What happens if the context around immigration work is direr, such as assisting a family member out of a job?  Sure, there's an 'adopted family' aspect baked in with your robo-pals, but the secondary motivation for one of them only arrives several hours in.  It feels like there was ample opportunity to strive beyond that.

For what it may be slightly lacking in polish or generally lacking in thematic bite, Border Bots VR remains committed to its mechanical ingenuity from start to finish.  The Soviet-era aesthetic and tone of its closest inspiration have been replaced by an E-rated sci-fi backdrop, but it still captures the enthralling tension of immigration paperwork through creative scenarios.  And since each day is treated like a stepping stone for a new gimmick, there's rarely a dull moment whenever working in said booth.  It's a shame to see missed opportunities for funnier, more interesting, and more insightful material woven into these mechanics, but its breathless pacing and nuanced puzzle design still make for a quality title.

Contractor by trade and writer by hobby, Lee's obnoxious criticisms have found a way to be featured across several gaming sites: N4G, VGChartz, Gaming Nexus, DarkStation, and TechRaptor! He started gaming in the mid-90s and has had the privilege in playing many games across a plethora of platforms. Reader warning: each click given to his articles only helps to inflate his Texas-sized ego. Proceed with caution.