Ratchet and Clank: Rift Apart

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The Quantum Tantrum of a Furry Hero

I once got stuck in a time-loop where I had to escort a gelatinous alien CEO across five dimensions because he left his lunchbox in a pocket reality that only exists on Tuesdays. This is not a metaphor. It’s Tuesday in Ratchet & Clank: Rift Apart, and the lunchbox exploded into a sentient robot uprising. Or maybe that was Wednesday. It's hard to tell when the entire game feels like it was storyboarded by a group of animators who snorted sugar and quantum theory in equal measure. Released by Insomniac Games in 2021 as a PlayStation 5 flex piece, Rift Apart is many things: a tech demo dressed as a Saturday morning cartoon, a multiverse caper with the emotional depth of a Pixar short, and a third-person shooter that throws more particle effects at you than a rave sponsored by Elon Musk. It’s dazzling. It’s chaotic. It’s occasionally exhausting. But above all, it is aggressively fine.

Let’s crack open this dimension like a suspicious rift in your Wi-Fi signal and get into it.

Dimensional Drama

You remember Ratchet, right? Lombax with a wrench, deep abandonment issues, and the inexplicably unbreakable optimism of a shonen protagonist? He’s back. So is Clank, his philosophical backpack with the voice of a middle-aged guidance counselor. The premise this time? Dr. Nefarious, still rocking that "villain with seasonal allergies" vibe, steals a reality-ripping device and breaks the multiverse harder than a teenager's first relationship. Enter Rivet, a new female Lombax from an alternate universe. She’s got trauma, trust issues, a robot arm, and an almost unhealthy willingness to dive into explosions. She’s great, honestly. The script tries so hard to treat her like a Big Deal, but it sometimes feels like she’s in a slightly better-written game than Ratchet. They bounce between worlds trying to fix the multiverse, but really, they're just bonding over mutual loneliness and how weird their enemies are. The narrative flirts with emotional depth, really flirts, like long eye contact across the room, but never quite gets past the “do you like jazz?” stage. There are sweet moments. There’s actual growth. But most of the story feels like a Greatest Hits of Hero Tropes Vol. 3, safe enough for a theme park but never dangerous enough to really sting. Which is fine. Just don’t expect it to leave claw marks on your soul.

Combat Ballet With a Bazooka

If you’ve ever wanted to vaporize cyber-gators with a gun that turns them into topiary, congratulations. You are the target audience. Rift Apart’s weapons are gloriously stupid in the best way, fungus-launching turrets, pixelators, doom-blades that whirl around like caffeinated beyblades. It’s a sandbox full of Looney Tunes-level mayhem, and the controls are as tight as a bank vault full of Red Bull. That said, the combat’s sugar rush starts to feel a little samey around hour X. You’re dodging, shooting, upgrading, switching between seventeen weapons mid-fight, and while it’s slick and polished, the strategy rarely changes. Enemies are basically cardboard cutouts with flamethrowers. The game throws more at you, but it never asks more of you. No learning curve. Just more curveballs. Exploration, meanwhile, is like walking through an IKEA showroom designed by aliens. Planets are gorgeous, but mostly linear. Hidden pockets and side-quests exist, but they’re the kind your dad would call “nice distractions” while checking his watch. The rift mechanic, which lets you teleport across space like a Marvel intern with a grappling hook, sounds cooler than it is. You don't control dimensions so much as you tug at pre-placed ziplines made of wormholes.

It’s all fun. But don’t expect revolution. Just evolution.

Pixar On Meth (In a Good Way)

Let’s not mince pixels. Rift Apart is visually ridiculous. It’s the kind of game that makes you squint and wonder if your eyes were upgraded in your sleep. The fur tech alone is so lovingly rendered it might qualify as an emotional support texture. Lighting? Real-time reflections? Explosions that could be sold as NFT art? Check, check, and sigh. Cutscenes melt into gameplay without even a polite transition screen. The animations are so expressive you could teach a film class on Clank’s subtle head tilts. It’s the kind of technical showboating that should feel cynical, but Insomniac’s animators clearly love what they’re doing. You can feel it in every smirk, stumble, and unnecessarily sassy robot dance. Audio-wise, the score goes big, heroic, orchestral, sometimes a bit forgettable, but it fits the Saturday morning vibe. Voice acting? Great across the board. Jennifer Hale’s Rivet is the MVP, delivering both sass and soul like she’s been voicing this character since dial-up. Meanwhile, Ratchet sounds like a guy who got kicked out of an interdimensional therapy session and is trying really hard to stay upbeat.

Parallel Universes of Familiarity

Here’s the part where we talk about innovation, and I offer a slow, knowing shrug.

Yes, Rift Apart brings a new Lombax. Yes, it has a rift mechanic. Yes, there’s some new world design and pacing tricks that freshen things up like a splash of lemon on a microwave burrito. But let’s be honest: this is comfort food. It’s very shiny comfort food, like a grilled cheese made with truffle oil and a TED Talk on ray tracing, but it’s still fundamentally the same formula that’s worked for two decades. There’s nothing wrong with that. Not every game needs to reinvent the wheel, some just polish it until it can blind a satellite. But for a game that hops between dimensions, the sense of risk is surprisingly low. There’s no weirdness in the systems. No creative leap that makes you feel like you’re part of something that wasn’t already mass focus-tested in a Disney+ boardroom. The wildest thing it does is ask, “What if Ratchet... but girl?” And yes, she’s better written. But still.

The Rift Between Us

There’s a moment in Rift Apart where Ratchet and Rivet share this quiet, awkward exchange. No explosions. No villain cackling in the background. Just two people, broken in different ways, trying to figure out if they're allowed to be whole again. It lasts about twenty seconds before a spaceship crashes through a donut shop. That’s Rift Apart in a nutshell. It wants to say something real, but it keeps getting interrupted by its own fireworks. This is a game made with talent, heart, and a metric ton of particle effects. It’s fun, polished, and charming, but it rarely feels essential. Like a summer blockbuster that’s good enough to recommend, but not quite tattoo-worthy. It's one of those games you enjoy, admire, maybe even replay, but when someone asks you what changed in the series, you hesitate.

Pros

• Weapons that feel like Wile E. Coyote’s fever dreams

• Gorgeous visuals that justify your console's price tag

• Rivet is a fantastic addition with real depth

• Seamless transitions and expressive animation

• Combat is chaotic fun, even when it's predictable

Cons

• Shallow enemy AI and repetitive encounters

• The rift mechanic is more spectacle than substance

• Emotional beats don’t always hit their mark

• Plays it safe narratively and mechanically

• Exploration often feels like window-dressing