GALAXY BURGER REVIEW - SLINGING SPACE SLOP ACROSS THE COSMOS
Galaxy Burger flings you into the greasiest corners of the universe, arming you with nothing but a spatula and a dream. This pixel-art fever dream of a cooking sim serves up a heaping helping of nostalgia, drizzled with enough alien weirdness to make you question the sanity of intergalactic health inspectors.
FLIPPING PATTIES, LOSING SANITY
At its core, Galaxy Burger is a love letter to those browser-based cooking games that ate up countless hours of your misspent youth. You're the master of your own cosmic diner, slapping together burgers and sides for a parade of customers that look like they crawled out of a sci-fi B-movie reject pile.
The game eases you in like a warm bath of fry oil, starting you off with simple burgers that even a drunk toddler could assemble. But before you know it, you're juggling more ingredients than a Michelin-starred octopus chef. Want to make a burger taller than the Leaning Tower of Pisa? Go for it. Feel like drowning that patty in enough sauce to qualify as a soup? The galaxy's your oyster, you culinary madman.
What sets Galaxy Burger apart from its grease-soaked brethren is the blissful absence of a ticking clock. By default, there's no time limit, meaning you can meticulously craft each burger like it's a work of art destined for the Louvre's food court. It's a refreshing change of pace in a genre that usually has you sweating bullets faster than a nun in a cucumber field.
But for those masochists among you who crave the sweet sting of time pressure, fear not. As you progress through the cosmic quagmire of burger joints, you'll unlock timed modes that'll have you flipping patties with the frenzied energy of a caffeinated squirrel. It's like the game is saying, "Oh, you were having fun? Let's fix that."
A VISUAL FEAST FOR YOUR EYEHOLES
Graphically, Galaxy Burger looks like what would happen if an SNES dropped acid and decided to reimagine the entire McDonald's franchise. The pixel art is so damn charming it should be illegal. Each new planet you unlock is a visual treat, serving up kitchen layouts that defy the laws of ergonomics and alien designs that'll make you wonder if the artists were smoking something a bit stronger than oregano.
The attention to detail is impressive as hell. Burgers stack with a satisfying physicality, sauces drip and ooze like they're auditioning for a condiment porno, and the little flourishes of animation breathe life into every corner of your cosmic grease trap. It's enough to make you hungry, if you can get past the fact that half your customers look like they might be radioactive.
MULTIPLAYER MAYHEM: BECAUSE FRIENDSHIP IS OVERRATED
If you thought flipping burgers solo was a trip, just wait until you throw some friends into the mix. Galaxy Burger's multiplayer mode transforms the game from a chill solo experience into a chaotic shitshow that'll test the limits of your friendships faster than a game of Monopoly on family game night.
With support for up to 8 players, it's like Overcooked if it decided to drop out of culinary school and backpack across the galaxy. The potential for both cooperation and sabotage is off the charts. One minute you're working in perfect harmony, the next you're screaming at Dave because he put pickles on the burger that clearly asked for no pickles. It's beautiful, it's maddening, it's the kind of multiplayer experience that'll have you laughing your ass off even as you contemplate murder.
THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE INDIGESTIBLE
Let's break it down like a complex carbohydrate, shall we?
The good shit: The gameplay loop is more addictive than those fries at the bottom of the bag that somehow taste better than all the others combined. The lack of time pressure in the default mode means you can zen out harder than a Buddhist monk at a silent retreat. And the sheer variety of alien customers and their increasingly bizarre orders keeps things fresher than the produce section at Whole Foods.
The progression system is a double-edged spatula. On one hand, it gives you a constant sense of achievement, unlocking new planets and ingredients at a steady clip. On the other hand, it's slower than molasses flowing uphill in January. You'll be replaying planets more times than you've rewatched your favorite sitcom, grinding for those sweet, sweet stars like they're made of pure cocaine.
The bad shit: For a game about fast food, the pacing can be glacial. Unlocking new planets feels like it takes longer than actual space travel. And why in the name of all that's holy and deep-fried do I have to unlock timed mode for each planet separately? It's like the game's afraid of its own potential for stress-induced heart attacks.
Some of the UI choices are questionable at best. The order ticket that constantly spawns in the bottom left corner is more annoying than a mosquito at a nudist colony. And would it kill them to let us move it? My OCD is screaming louder than an over-boiled kettle.
FINAL THOUGHTS: A COSMIC CULINARY ADVENTURE
Galaxy Burger is the fast food of cooking sims - it's not gourmet, but damn if it isn't satisfying. It's got more charm than a three-tailed puppy and enough content to keep you busy longer than your last Netflix binge.
Is it perfect? Hell no. The progression system needs more work than a 1985 Yugo, and some of the UI choices are baffling enough to make you question the existence of intelligent design. But when you're in the zone, slinging burgers across the cosmos like some sort of intergalactic short-order god, none of that matters.
Galaxy Burger captures the essence of what makes cooking sims fun and distills it into a pure, uncut hit of dopamine. It's the perfect game for when you want to feel like a master chef without the risk of actual grease burns or Gordon Ramsay screaming in your face.
Final Score: 8 out of 10
We at NLM received a key for this game for free, this however didn't impact our review in any way. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go make a burger with more patties than my cardiologist would approve of. In space, no one can hear you have a heart attack, but they can definitely see you violate every health code in the known universe.