You might expect the nastiest thing about SWOTS – ugh, what an acronym! Like the slap of a thrown liver – to be the organs themselves. They are indeed pretty grim. See how they spin in your cargo hold, all glisten and pixel; blanched neon veins and ventricles pulsing under your cursor. They look both freshly peeled and woefully antique, like they’ve been plucked from gibbed sprites in the Black Isle Fallout games. The tab-based interface is pretty ghastly too: a relic from an age of MS-DOS command lines, stippled Macintosh textures and CyberTM wireframes that has somehow been cast forward into the distant, nightmare future, a future you learn about exclusively via terse messages from your clients, some of whom are in the process of bleeding out. But by far the most horrible thing about Space Warlord Organ Trading Simulator is the music.
Is it possible for a soundtrack to smell? If so, this one stinks of Adderall, formaldehyde, stale pizza and several vintages of sweat, plus various other aromas that haven’t been invented or discovered yet, and hopefully never will. No, I won’t link to a Youtube video. You don’t want this stuff in your play history. There’s no getting away from the score, but you’re safest in your ship’s cargo hold: here, the backing track becomes a sort of echoey, mournful lilt, suggesting long, lonely weeks at the helm with naught but frozen kidneys for company.
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