Starcats

by Christopher
written by Christopher 9 minutes read

Summary

Starcats – or, as my group quickly renamed it, “Friendship Destroyer 9000” – is the latest local-party game from indie studio Hexafox. It lands somewhere between the frantic mini-rounds of Duck Game, the shifting alliances of Risk, and the laser-pointer obsession of every cat on the internet. Up to four players (AI bots fill empty seats) control jetpack-wearing cosmic felines who zip around low-gravity arenas grabbing crystals, powering up, and ultimately rocketing each other into the void until one cat reigns supreme. Rounds last five-to-ten minutes, matches resolve in about half an hour, and the only real rule is: trust no one. After a week of evenings lost to “just one more rematch,” here’s the deep dive on whether Starcats deserves a permanent slot on your couch-machine.

  1. Gameplay – Easy to Learn, Impossible to Predict
    Hexafox bills Starcats as a “social-deduction bullet-hell,” which sounds like marketing Mad Libs until you play. Each round starts with a random objective: Crystal Rush (collect 10 crystals), King of the Hill (hold a moving satellite for 30 seconds), or Tail Tag (keep a glowing ribbon for the longest). You’ll form quick, unspoken alliances—“Help me bump the leader off the hill and we’ll split the crystals!”—but every power-up doubles as a back-stab. Grab a tether and you can either tow your ally to safety or slingshot them into an asteroid. Hold a rocket and you can target whoever you like, but firing reveals your reticle to everyone for a full second, creating delicious Mexican-standoff moments.

Controls are ultra-light: left stick to steer, right stick to aim, one button to dash, one to fire/interact. After a 30-second tutorial every newcomer in our group could survive; mastering momentum and learning the five-item power rotation took three matches; crafting elaborate double-crosses took all night. Because the arenas wrap (fly off the top, appear at the bottom) and every surface is bouncy, escape routes are everywhere, which means nobody is ever truly safe. The result is a game that feels loose and silly on the surface but hides serious depth for competitive players.

  1. Game Modes – Small Roster, Big Replay
    There are only three core objectives right now, but each combines with a rotating modifier: low gravity, meteor storms, black-hole in the center, or “silent jets” (no dash noise). The game picks two modifiers plus an objective for every round, producing 54 permutations. That may sound thin, yet in practice no two rounds felt identical because the real variable is human intent. Still, if you’re looking for a beefy single-player campaign or online ranked play, know that Starcats is strictly local, strictly PvP. A “Gauntlet” mode lets one player face waves of bots with rule twists, but it’s more training ground than story mode. Hexafox has promised free updates every quarter, starting with a Capture the Flag variant this summer.

  2. Social Contract – The Meta Is the Game
    Starcats’ genius is that it weaponizes table talk. Because you can’t directly harm an opponent without a power-up, early seconds are spent racing for crates while side-eyeing everyone else. The moment someone grabs a rocket, accusations fly: “He’s aiming at me! Quick, bump him!” Alliances flip on the fly; revenge becomes the real win condition even if you finish fourth. We saw players sacrifice guaranteed second place just to ensure the previous back-stabber came last. If Among Us rewards long-term deception, Starcats delivers bite-sized betrayal with immediate, hilarious consequences. Our only gripe: there’s no built-in “stats” screen to track grudges across the night. We kept a paper tally labeled “Sin Ledger.”

  3. Power-ups – Risk vs. Reward Done Right
    The arsenal is small but razor-balanced. Shield bubbles reflect projectiles but slow you to a crawl. Cloaking makes you invisible until you collect a crystal, enabling last-second heists. The tractor beam lets you yoink crystals or allies, but the animation roots you in place. Every item has two uses, creating split-second risk/reward calculations. The devs even snuck in a “Trust Me” badge—equip it and you can gift crystals to another player, but doing so marks you on everyone’s HUD. Translation: generosity is mechanically suspicious, which is hilarious.

  4. Difficulty & Accessibility – Everyone Gets a Hairball
    Three AI levels (Mittens, Tiger, Lynx) provide genuine challenge. Mittens will occasionally self-bump into walls; Lynx pulls off dashing ricochet shots that would make an esports coach blush. A full suite of color-blind cat skins, remappable controls, and an “auto-dash” assist option open the game to younger kids and mobility-limited players. We successfully rotated a six-year-old, two twenty-something core gamers, and a grandma across one night with zero rule tweaks—something Gang Beasts or Duck Game couldn’t manage.

  5. Visuals & Audio – Saturday-Morning Cosmic
    Starcats pops off the screen. Think Adventure Time meets Jet Force Gemini: chunky outlines, neon trails, and a pastel galaxy backdrop that never distracts from crucial pickups. Cats sport dozens of unlockable hats—bowler, fez, VR headset—earned through a clever “Humiliation” system. Cause an opponent to fly into a black hole five times and you unlock a black-hole-themed beret. It’s drip-feed progression done right; nothing is locked behind loot boxes or premium currency. The soundtrack is chiptune funk that speeds up when two players remain, a la Super Smash Bros., pushing tension through the roof. Audio cues are vital: each power-up hums at a different pitch, so seasoned players know what’s coming by ear.

  6. Performance – Locked 60 on a Potato
    We tested on a launch-model Switch, a five-year-old budget laptop (GTX 1050), and a Steam Deck. Resolution scales dynamically but never dipped below 60 fps, even with 40 bouncing crystals and four simultaneous rockets. Load times are under six seconds, and the post-match stats screen can be sped up with a single button hold—small UX touches that keep the party flowing. Online play is conspicuously absent; Hexafox insists the social contract breaks without couch proximity. That’s probably true, but Parsec or Steam Remote Play Together is mandatory in 2023; we’d kill for an official implementation.

  7. Content Volume vs. Price – Short but Sweet
    At $19.99 USD you’re getting three maps, three modes, and a trickle of unlocks. Hard to justify if you party only once a month, yet dollar-per-laugh math checks out for weekly board-game groups. Our six-person crew averaged 30 seconds of uproarious laughter per minute of gameplay—better ROI than most comedy films. Still, if you already own a stack of Jackbox packs, the value proposition narrows.

  8. Replay Value – The Grudge Machine
    Because every round is a blank slate, comeback mechanics are ruthless. A player can go from last to first in 20 seconds with a lucky crate spawn and a well-timed ricochet. That volatility keeps losers invested and winners paranoid. After three weeks we’re still discovering tech: boost-dashing into a wall for instant 180s, crystal denial by tethering them into hazards, “accidentally” bumping an ally just as they fire to mis-aim their rocket. The lack of persistent stat tracking actually helps: nobody enters with a reputation, so every betrayal feels personal, not pre-written.

  9. What’s Missing – Wishlist for Updates

  • A fifth player slot (the UI already supports it, according to the dev Discord).
  • Tournament mode: auto-generate a best-of-7 bracket and track wins.
  • Spectator tools: when you die you become a mouse cursor able to ping the map or drop harmless confetti. Right now you’re stuck watching.
  • Map editor: the tile-set is simple; Steam Workshop integration would explode longevity.
  • Optional online ranked: yes, it dilutes the social core, but friends move away. Give us a “Trusted” queue limited to Steam friends list.

Verdict – 8.2/10
Starcats isn’t trying to be the next 200-hour live-service obsession. It wants to sit on your sofa, pour you a soda, and convince you that Grandma can’t be trusted with a railgun. It succeeds with swagger, delivering tight mechanics, gorgeous feedback, and the kind of emergent stories you’ll retell for months. The slim content offering and lack of online play keep it from true greatness, but for local-multi die-hards it’s an instant-cult classic. Grab three friends, order pizza, and prepare to hiss at each other across the living room. Just maybe hide the good china first.

Review Score

8/10

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Christopher has carved a niche for himself as an authority on retro pre-2000 computer games. With a passion that borders on reverence, Christopher delves deep into the pixelated past of gaming, unearthing gems and sharing insights that resonate with both nostalgic players and curious newcomers. His articles serve as a time machine, transporting readers back to an era where gameplay and creativity often trumped graphical fidelity. Cristopher's expertise isn't just in cataloging these classics; he analyzes their design, the context of their creation, and their impact on the gaming landscape, offering a comprehensive look at the evolution of digital entertainment. Beyond mere retrospectives, Christopher champions the relevance of these retro games in today's high-definition world. He skillfully draws parallels between the foundational mechanics of yesteryear's titles and the modern gaming innovations they inspired. His work goes beyond mere preservation; it's an ongoing dialogue between the past and present of gaming. Christopher's content educates, entertains, and ignites discussions within the gaming community. His dedication not only keeps the legacy of pre-2000 games alive but also highlights their importance in shaping the future of video gaming.

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