It's important to go into a game experience with a positive attitude. This may means simply keeping expectations in check, or just generally doing a good job not to make any assumptions. Iridium Runners was thrust into my life with two ideas in mind: I would first understand the game, and then I would begin to enjoy it. The second part never quite happened.

I understand that indie games are important for the industry, and that the Maddens and Marios of our time not only have their spotlight but take up the entire stage. New ideas have to spring from somewhere, but even on a low budget, if it is unclear from the beginning just how to include the player in the "fun", the idea probably needs some polish.

Iridium Runners is a racing game as I understand it. There is a starting line, competitors, and the concept of winning by going faster than everyone else. No cars, though. Straight up running - all be it with special "suits and pods". The setting is expressed as futuristic, though I don't know at which point they made legs faster source than vehicles! The suits are supposed to enhance the runners themselves, to provide the "greatest sport in mankind's history". I never thought a parallel universe existed that would make NASCAR an attractive alternative.

From point A to point B, there's not a lot to lay eyes on. The tracks are painfully straightforward and claustrophobic to the point of making a hamster yearn for larger moving space. There's little sense of speed or fluid motion, and no short cuts or faster alternatives to improvise with either. Each race will provide a sharp turn and a hole you need to make good with by jumping over. I think I counted two times a slightly faster route was made apparent with boosters, but the joy of winning the race dies long before you reach the finish line.

One of the strangest design decisions is the stamina requirement - on a futuristic suit. Blue gems must be picked up on the course habitually or the race will end out of sheer exhaustion. It's ironic that a futuristic suit lacks power reserves after more than 30 seconds; the whole idea of giving an edge in track and field is like giving Sonic a means of transport. The idea feels like a forced game mechanic to somehow prolong game replayability. Refueling in a racing game makes kittens cry... and baby pandas, too

There game provides only six courses. You may go through them in single or cup mode, but your opponents appear so primitive, you'll wonder why you would want to go through the same track nine times a piece before you've been declared "the winner". The box advertises 24 tracks, as there's four ways to play each track, but they literally just include the option of mirror (the versatility!), inverse mode (the depth!), and mirror inverse mode (head explodes!). There's a grab the extras mode, and a survival (you need to refuel to stay alive anyway?) given, but seriously. Seriously.

I would say the visuals are dated, but I'm not sure by what standard date they would have been accepted. The art style does nothing for the aesthetic either, as the racer looks like the result of a mad scientist trying to graft human parts to chicken eggs as some kind of sad social commentary on how we're really the monsters. No, this game is a monster… and 'twas the player that killed the beast.

No tracks, no interesting devices for improvement, ugly graphics, weird artistic design, lame power-ups, extended lists of negativity… too much of this game makes me wonder why I don't read more books with my time. You know that the game is mind-numbingly bad when you notice the sound of your footsteps on different surfaces differs accordingly. If you see Iridium Runners anywhere, get under the nearest desk so that you may avoid harm. Or conversely, buy the game for someone you hate as a fair well gesture. If they are in an adventuresome mood and do try the game, rest assured they will never speak to you again, guaranteeing you'll never have to do the same. Then everyone shall be happy! Except me. I hate you Iridium Runners. I hate you.