“Boy,” the protagonist in “A Boy and his Blob” befriends a gelatinous mass of crisco named Blobert and feeds it jellybeans to make it turn into various objects. Because, you see, the boy has been commissioned to save Blobert’s planet, but his limitations as a human prevent him from dropping into pits, flying to other planets, and doing all the other shit the heaping pile of lard does with ease.
If you’ve ever been in a fiction writing workshop or a creative writing course, you’ve likely heard someone suggest cutting characters which serve no purpose in a story. So why is Boy even in the game? Is Blobert so fucking lazy that he can’t feed the jellybeans to himself? It’s pretty obvious from the start that Blobert could have saved his home planet on his own. He’s essentially impervious to every peril that our human protagonist has to deal with. Apparently Boy is just there to throw his beans in Blobert’s open mouth and whistle when the blob’s job is over.
Like many of the shitty games from the 80s, David Crane’s A Boy and his Blob: Trouble in Blobonia (1989) received high praise from many critics. But if you actually had the chance to play the game, you likely remember Blobert bouncing off screen like a blithering idiot and then taking hours to catch up to you while you beckoned him with your choppy 8-bit audio whistle.
But perhaps the strangest element of this game is the fact that half of the sub-objectives have absolutely nothing to do with mastering it. Playing the game all the way through, you quickly find that you meander through the levels looking for treasures, only one of which actually benefits you by giving you the lime jellybean.
When you get to the end of the game you’ll meet up with an older, more human-like tub of lard. You use Blobert as a key by giving him the lime jellybean, then you open the door and HOLY SHIT! Blobert has been imprisoned by the emperor! Don’t ask questions, bitch. You just sprinted through a popcorn-spewing maze, avoided a big pot of boiling excrement and dodged giant gnashing teeth. Your suspension of disbelief ought to be fully exercised at this point. So just turn Blobert into a car jack and kill the emperor with his personal supply of poison. The Michelin Man is pleased with your results.
Not surprisingly, you can rip through this glitch-riddled NES nightmare in just about ten minutes. The game is available for purchase on the Wii network. Over the years several sequels have been developed, with only one completed and released to the public, which is also available on the Wii.
The entire game is covered in the video below: