Review | Mouthwashing - Up Or Down The Corporate Ladder?

I first played How Fish is Made (Wrong Organ, 2022) early last year after having it hyped up to me by the many think pieces discussing it online. Despite the many writers and monotone British guys – like myself – that buttered it up to look like the shiniest of Steam’s free horror experiences, the game still floored me and surpassed all expectations I had. When I forced yet another of my unsuspecting but exhausted friends to play the game, I fatefully noticed the new free update titled The Last One and Then Another, a grotesque twist on Katamari Damacy (Namco, 2004) that culminated in a derivative but appreciable punchline: all of that just now was pointless, wishlist our next game, Mouthwashing.

Johanna Kasurinen, narrative designer and art lead at Wrong Organ, used How Fish is Made to capture the plethora of philosophies and beliefs people commit themselves to in the hopes of evading existentialism and, somewhat sympathetically, mockingly condescended in their direction. By focalising marine life, the game successfully utilised nature to decry how its inherent hostility and discrimination devalues the meaning people assign to their lives.

Now, after my much-anticipated Mouthwashing release date (September 26th), I’ve played Wrong Organ’s newest outing and witnessed first-hand how the team didn’t just take what How Fish is Made set up and go a few steps further with it, they stapled many more ideas onto its core and ran a marathon around their last work that captivated me nearly two years ago.

Mouthwashing is a psychological horror game that follows the blue-collar crew of the Tulpar spaceship and their many adversities after the captain has failed to crash the vessel, seemingly in a suicide attempt. The spaceship is intended to house the crew for many months while they tirelessly deliver packages for Pony Express, representing its mascot: Polle. Curly, Jimmy, Swansea, Daisuke, and Anya – the crew – only being allowed a maximum of five hours rest, are used to enduring hardship. This means it’s the breakdown of each employee’s psyche that we the player contend with most.

Mouthwashing’s diegesis is consummate in how it remains grounded, akin to a verité, despite ultimately being a science-fiction thriller. The quips from the Polle animatronic and the various company posters emblazoning every hallway incite resentment for the expectations of management and the culture of the ‘nine-to-five’; never is this more felt than with the titular mouthwash. The Dragonbreath X Mouthwash bottles seen throughout the Tulpar all advertise themselves with the ability to kill 99.9% of all germs, a mantra that elicits the themes of capitalism and corporate neglect vehemently. We suffer so that we can survive and the 0.01% can thrive.

Is there any upside? Well… the mouthwash is 20% alcohol.

While many often respond poorly to the phrase ‘walking simulator’, Mouthwashing typically fits within the unofficial confinement of the definition and is an apt example of the genre’s strengths. The gameplay, while minimal, benefits from giving us few actionable inputs to be conscious of. This accommodates horror. Environmental awareness is where our autonomy matters most when controlling the Tulpar’s crewmen; we the player are astutely aware of our surroundings and how little we can do to respond to what lurks in them.

Responding to what lurks is also cleverly handled, as turning tail is rarely appropriate for Mouthwashing’s biggest threats. Studying Biology has taught me that the oft-repeated ‘fight or flight’ should instead be ‘fight or flight or freeze’. Playing Mouthwashing taught me the benefits of that third option. The game’s comprehensive soundtrack and sound design sedulously shine through in these moments – when you’re frozen and holding your bladder – and 3D audio typically becomes the primary sense by which navigation should be handled.

There are three pillars to the gameplay, I’ve already touched on how holding forward on the joystick and not touching it at all, two of the pillars, are simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating – I write this with no sarcasm, I’m just indulging the irony – so now I should discuss puzzles.

Saving this element for last implies that it’s the one worn and broken pillar of the bunch; actually, it’s just the shortest pillar and the one I’ve thought the least about. This is a strength when compared to the games that Mouthwashing reminds me of most. Like most of the Silent Hill series, Mouthwashing’s puzzles are all diegetic and fit well within the established universe, maintaining immersion. Unlike the Silent Hills – and probably for the better – Mouthwashing rarely had me stumped on a puzzle for more than a few minutes which is key for the short length of a first playthrough.

The people at Wrong Organ have crafted an experience with Mouthwashing that further humanises the already relatable topics and motifs of How Fish is Made. The game explores how the 0.01% and their impact on our ‘nine-to-five’s and work-life balances is far more devaluing of how we try to herald and aggrandise ourselves than parasites and diseases ever could be. Mouthwashing’s style and confidence of direction are akin to the best moments of House of Leaves (Mark Z. Danielewski, 2000), Silent Hill (Team Silent, 1999) and Resident Evil (Capcom, 1996). I play a lot of horror games and it often feels like this is the goal of many modern attempts; Mouthwashing doesn’t really feel like it’s trying for this and yet I can offer the compliment easily.

Mouthwashing is a game about how being a victim to a problematic employer for most of your life is just about as horrifying as being stranded in Space. I don’t like writing scores at the ends of my reviews, but if you skipped to the bottom and really must know: Mouthwashing is a 10/10 experience, so go fork out the scraps from your wallet and wages and buy it now. Play Mouthwashing.