The Year's Most Addictive Mobile Game Is Delightfully Absurd

New York Times

23-05-2025

In the year's most addictive, fast-paced mobile game, a jolly, round-bellied character with a hand for a head uses a green, flopping fish as a table tennis ball. It later shoots arrows at a bull's-eye that pops up from a toaster like an Eggo waffle.
Humorous absurdity fuels the fun in What the Clash?, an Apple Arcade exclusive inspired by Nintendo's irreverent WarioWare microgames.
Initially, I was terrible at the first three games available in this silly endeavor: twisted table tennis, racing and archery. (Five more games can be unlocked for free.) Yes, there are tutorials, sometimes obtuse. But they do not prepare you for the strange mash-ups that are to come, which seem like they were created by a mad scientist. The result is more Mel Brooks than Mary Shelley.
At the start of each round, three game cartridges are presented at a poker table seen from a bird's-eye perspective by two online players. A green wine bottle spins and randomly chooses, say, the racing game, which is placed into a console that looks suspiciously like something Nintendo made in the 1980s.
Each player is then dealt a selection of cards, putting forth the one that may lead to victory — and almost certainly to chaos. The combination of cards is what provides the game's ingenuity. In one daunting fusion, mini slot-car racers are blocked at times by the paws of insouciant black cats. Getting to the finish line requires a sense of timing that must come naturally to some. But not to me.
Twisted humor is everywhere in What the Clash?, a sequel to What the Golf? and What the Car? At every milestone, a tortured 'Happy Birthday' is squeezed out on a concertina. I imagined it was played by Clash Handicoot, an older stock character who is a nod to a popular 1996 PlayStation game.
What the Clash? keeps your attention by keeping things moving. It's possible to win a best-of-five match during a commercial break, and one game may take 30 frantic seconds. The tense battles are about balanced play and sanguine oddness.
There is also strange customization. I rarely enjoy dressing up a game character, with the exception of placing Astro Bot in retro hero costumes. The items in the store here, though, are fun enough to pique engagement. Using coins earned by winning matches, I bought a bear finger puppet to place atop my middle digit as well as a David Bowie-inspired lightning tattoo.
The store sorely needs more humorous pop-culture-inspired options, however, and I'm not sure why a ruby ring costs a mammoth 500 crowns, the in-game currency. Items don't offer extra power or agility. But I still purchased the ring, perhaps to flaunt a luxury item at opponents.
One snippet from the lo-fi soundtrack amplified the way I felt about playing to the point of tendinitis. It's a six-note whistling ditty signifying the laid-back comfort of a win.
That's how I felt when I emerged as a victor — on top of the world. There can also be a haunting loneliness to the tune. After losing a close match, I felt the lowest of lows. My flexors throbbed in pain. It was time to quit.
But then a new card combination appeared, asking me to launch giraffes from a bow to keep away a threatening rolling barrel. It was important to continue at all costs.