I Played All Hands on Deck and Didn’t Expect This

I didn’t expect a co op puzzle game about plush toys and plastic gadgets to grab my attention the way All Hands on Deck did. Yet after a few evenings with it, I caught myself thinking about its toy worlds even when I wasn’t playing. Maybe it’s the bright colours. Maybe it’s the constant sense that I’m inside a kid’s daydream. Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s one of the few modern co op games that actually wants two people to work together, not just exist in the same lobby. Whatever the reason, something about this game sticks.

From the very start, the tone is set in the playroom hub. Every level is a toy. Every world feels like something a kid built out of pure imagination and then pumped full of caffeine. Oversized blocks, ridiculous contraptions, toy cars stuck in traffic like stressed office workers. I got a weird flashback to my childhood mixed with the painful memory of Monday mornings. So yes, the mood is oddly wholesome, childish and… accurate.

The moment the game really clicked for me was when I understood how the shared gadget system works. Anyone can pick up anything. Anyone can hand over anything. Suddenly you stop thinking about characters and start thinking about hands helping each other. The best example was when my co op partner launched me across a gap with a slingshot. Then I had to extend my silly bendy arm and pull them over like some kind of stretchy rescue hero. It sounds simple, but when it works smoothly, it feels great. And when it doesn’t… well, you learn to restart fast.

The game is generous with checkpoints, so failure is painless. You fall, you respawn, you joke about whose fault it was, and you try again. This is why I’d recommend it to anyone who usually rages at platformers. It’s hard to get truly angry when the game treats mistakes like small bumps instead of disasters. The pacing also helps a lot. Early levels teach you the basics without pressure, letting new players learn at a calm pace while still giving veterans something to chew on.

Now, the good stuff. The puzzles are genuinely fun. Most are straightforward, some make you think for a second, and a few actually surprised me with how cleverly they mix gadgets. The tutorials are clear too. Even when an interaction felt unintuitive at first, the game found a way to show me what to do without slowing me down. The high five triggers became my favourite bit. Nothing bonds players like a tiny celebration mechanic that pops up at random.

But let’s talk about the bugs, because they’re impossible to ignore. Desyncs on moving platforms made us look like broken robots. Sometimes physics decided we deserved to be launched into orbit. And yes, we got stuck once and had to restart the whole level. These issues didn’t ruin the fun, but they did cut through the flow often enough that I can’t pretend they don’t matter. It says a lot that we still kept playing, but if someone hates repeating sections, they might bounce off fast.

After a few days with the game, I’m conflicted in a very practical way. The experience is joyful, light, and surprisingly refreshing. It’s a great entry point for co op puzzle newcomers. It’s the kind of title you can play with a friend who normally only touches Candy Crush. And the 10 hour length lines up with the price nicely.

But would I recommend it right now? If you’re patient, yes. If you’re easily annoyed by bugs, not yet. The foundation is strong, the mechanics are lovely, and the charm is real, but the technical issues need a patch or two before this becomes a no brainer.

My final feeling? I had a genuinely good time. I laughed a lot. I swore a bit. I stretched my weird extendible arm more times than I want to admit. And once those updates roll out, I can see myself recommending this game without hesitation.