Review by: Danielle Riendeau

The Misadventures of PB Winterbottom, an indie puzzle title that just about bursts at the seams with creativity and style, is one of the most oddly adorable games ever made. It opens with hilarious, faux-gothic/vaudeville music and gorgeous black and white cartoon visuals, everything hand-drawn and distinctive. Catchy 2D panels display the wacky story, rhyming cutely: “This my friend, is no ordinary story. This is a tale of spinning gears, selfish humbugs and stolen sweets. But most of all, a tale of time.”

We’re soon introduced to the dastardly Winterbottom, a pie thief with a long mustache and stovepipe hat. “He would pine for each tart that escaped his fat grip. And climb back to the roof, for his next thieving trip.” Somehow, our protagonist opened a rift in the space/time continuum, and it’s your job to navigate the 2D stages and make things right – by collecting magical pastries.

The first puzzles play out gently, teaching you the distinct “time” mechanics that make the gameplay as tasty and clever as can be. This is a puzzler at heart (with some platforming mechanics thrown in), as you’re tasked with getting each pie in a stage. To do so, you make “copies” of your character, (either by cloning or by using “time portals) and use all of your Winterbottoms to reach the cleverly arranged baked goods.

PB has a limited arsenal of moves that fit perfectly with the 1920s cartoon aesthetic. You can whack your clones, sending them careening off the screen; stack and “ride” them, have them pull levers and stand on switches, and float (thanks to your handy umbrella). The real trick is in combining clones (and avoiding the later “evil” red ones!) and actions into that one perfect sequence that gets you to the pies.

There are always plenty of obstacles in the way – flames, strict time limits, gears, freezing water, and a host of other comical hurdles. The result is a game that is as clever and devious as the main character – you’ll send a thousand clones to their comical deaths before you solve the more difficult stages, but the “aha!” moments are worth every last demise.

In fact, the difficulty curve feels just about perfect. Each type of stage gradually introduces you to the mechanics unique to that area, and you never feel as if you’ve been thrown to the wolves. Experimentation is encouraged, as the penalty for death is minimal (you’re simple teleported back in), and the solution to most stages often comes about as a result of a few moments of hashing it out. As things get more complicated, the satisfaction for figuring it all out is sweeter than… well, pie.