Published by Beefox
Waste eaters is a very unique game that really speaks to my feelings.
Through it's controlled pacing, it's slow dialogue, and it's simple graphics it evokes really strong emotions about purposelessness.
The art style and sound design are beautiful, especially as a pixel artist myself. You won't find any music in this game, its not that kind of game.
The concepts of body horror, of transhumanism, and of being treated as lesser for it all speak to me on a fundamental level as a disabled nonbinary not quite human creature. While in the story of Waste Eater these are by choice, these were not by choice for me, and yet there is still interesting collisions and matching between these two concepts.
In Waste Eater, the character you play has taken upon themself, along with many others, a last ditch attempt to save the world. And no one thought it would work, and yet it did. I also have made last ditch attempts that worked, and i have also struggled in the results of them even if they worked.
Cenno is my last ditch attempt. It bars me from getting well paying work, it is not enough to live on, and yet like in Waste Eater, it worked. I am alive, it is better then the alternitve, its a net positive. And yet it is still a painful thing. I am still suffering, I am still poor, but i often have to face the thought "I should be glad."
In the end, i don't have to be. I'm allowed to be mad, angry, to want to live. Waste Eater expresses these feelings well, with the main character recounting how they are mad with how things went, despite ""winning"".
Something i find myself doing a lot, something that i am working on, is not self sacrificing too much for others benifits. Waste Eater explores this well too, in the end it was the ultimate form of self sacrifice, and the main character reaps none of the rewards.
This game left me a lot to think about, its a very unique experience, and if you have half an hour you should go play it.
a knitted plushie a friend made for you of which your friendship has worn away due to no fault of either party, but the fault of the endless march of time