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EARTH MUST DIE
review | PC
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Publisher: No More Robots.
Developer: Size Five Games. Released: January 2026. Genre: Point-and-Click. Posted 18th March 2026. By Tom Clare © 2026 |
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One unexpected problem that has arisen from the dominance of online streaming and digital distribution is a dramatic reduction in regional and culturally specific games. Creators are keen to capitalise on US markets and this is reflected in a gradual homogenising of themes: universal concepts that might appeal to a very wide demographic of players, but with little focus on distinctive cultural minutiae. It’s heartening, then, that Size Five Games’ Earth Must Die represents an unapologetically British endeavour, evidenced in its humour, its political satire, and a swathe of voicing talent plucked from the UK comedy scene.
Helmed by point-and-click maestros Dan Marshall and Ben Ward, Earth Must Die follows the exploits of Vvlak Lizardtongue, the unfavoured third son of Tyrythian leader Quintarian. After his father suffers an unfortunate accident, Vvlak sneakily pits his brothers against one another, and following their deaths at each other’s hands, he ascends to the throne. After discovering Earth using long-range scans, he marks the planet for destruction. This, however, backfires in spectacular fashion, unwittingly inviting an invasion at the hands of the human race. It’s up to the player to help Vvlak stage his own rebellion and reclaim his beloved dictatorship.
Earth Must Die stars a cast full of comedic talent, and focuses its narrative on political satire and farce
A story-driven point-and-click adventure, EMD’s gameplay lacks the creative spark that made the wonderful Lair of the Clockwork God so magnetic an experience. That said, whilst the lion’s share of the interactions revolve around examining points of interest, exhausting dialogue options, and occasionally concocting distractions, the game fares strongly thanks to an amusing narrative and elaborate, delightfully farcical scenarios.
Without question, Vvlak is the star of the show. A petty, feckless dictator who’s accompanied by his only childhood friend, a feeding robot named Milky. Vvlak’s dress sense, body language, and vocal delivery bring to mind Hammer Horror Dracula, whilst his demeanour is bolstered by an almost weaponised lack of self-awareness or understanding of his own people. Unsurprisingly, despite the lessons laid plain before him, he learns very little over the course of his crusade, merely concocting more and more obscure excuses for his own tyranny.
Without question, Vvlak is the star of the show. A petty, feckless dictator who’s accompanied by his only childhood friend, a feeding robot named Milky. Vvlak’s dress sense, body language, and vocal delivery bring to mind Hammer Horror Dracula, whilst his demeanour is bolstered by an almost weaponised lack of self-awareness or understanding of his own people. Unsurprisingly, despite the lessons laid plain before him, he learns very little over the course of his crusade, merely concocting more and more obscure excuses for his own tyranny.
FOCAL POINT: BREXIT STAGE LEFT
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Earth Must Die tends to disguise its intelligence behind a masquerade of general silliness, though it lands a number of neatly aimed jabs. Without doubt, the best bit of lampooning occurs when Vvlak must weaponise democracy to ensure the crew of a ship votes to fly themselves into the sun. He needs to secure a majority and must utilise Milky’s research into the 2016 Brexit referendum to forge a hasty charm offensive. Vvlak must come up with a snappy three-word slogan, devise a poster of himself as an ‘everyman’ decked out in lurid tweed holding a pint, and deliver a disingenuous interview with a robot journalist. Once he’s used populism to capture the hearts ‘n’ minds (and, of course, precisely 52% of the vote), Vvlak’s free to move on, as his crew of converts fly themselves to their doom, as is evidently their want and their right. All’s well that ends well, sort of.
Entirely irredeemable, I’m sure you’ll agree, and yet, he’s a brilliant character who’s responsible for (and on the receiving end of) a litany of laughs. Voiced with Transylvanian gusto by Joel Fry, the performance brings to life a marvellous anti-hero, and with it, a refreshing change of tone. Gaming has become ever more crowded with would-be superheroes, whose motivation mantras and hollow sound-bites have become increasingly grating and one-dimensional. Vvlak treats us to a markedly more entertaining (and amusing) list of petty gripes. From the intense discomfort he experiences around anything smutty, to a catalogue of hilarious dialogue choices that make clear his contempt in even pretending to care about anyone he encounters, every scene is a delight for his questionable observations and lop-sided logic.
There are a number of singularly-specific, standout sequences, very much in keeping with point-and-click tradition. True, some of the locations fail to inspire, but there are times when Earth Must Die is gorgeously staged. A museum heist sees Vvlak guiding his cohorts from the safety of a security office, with a sequence of security monitors showing the action transitioning between monitors. Elsewhere, Tyryth’s leader must take out a flying gunner using a bonkers combination of a disgruntled sentient vacuum cleaner, a voice-operated toilet, and a snack bar. There’s a terrific streak of dark humour running through the game, most notably Vvlak’s carefully crafted plans leading to unexpected (and normally utterly disastrous) consequences. He gloats about resolving a stand-off with words by talking three people into shooting one another. In the most eye-opening bit, the player’s success at instigating a teleporter malfunction leads all queuing guests to be transported at once, causing them to explode upon contact with each other. No matter the mounting body count, and the sheer ghoulishness of the massacres Vvlak is responsible for instigating, it always washes over him. There’s a detachment, an almost maniacal self-absorption, to the Tyrythian leader, his traits hold up an inescapably mirror to populist political figures of the previous decade.
There are a number of singularly-specific, standout sequences, very much in keeping with point-and-click tradition. True, some of the locations fail to inspire, but there are times when Earth Must Die is gorgeously staged. A museum heist sees Vvlak guiding his cohorts from the safety of a security office, with a sequence of security monitors showing the action transitioning between monitors. Elsewhere, Tyryth’s leader must take out a flying gunner using a bonkers combination of a disgruntled sentient vacuum cleaner, a voice-operated toilet, and a snack bar. There’s a terrific streak of dark humour running through the game, most notably Vvlak’s carefully crafted plans leading to unexpected (and normally utterly disastrous) consequences. He gloats about resolving a stand-off with words by talking three people into shooting one another. In the most eye-opening bit, the player’s success at instigating a teleporter malfunction leads all queuing guests to be transported at once, causing them to explode upon contact with each other. No matter the mounting body count, and the sheer ghoulishness of the massacres Vvlak is responsible for instigating, it always washes over him. There’s a detachment, an almost maniacal self-absorption, to the Tyrythian leader, his traits hold up an inescapably mirror to populist political figures of the previous decade.
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Sucking up to tech bro Thelonius Skwid yields benefits... or you can have fun ruining his tech announcement
The voice cast is key to the game’s identity, and for fans of British comedy in particular, it’s a treat. Martha Howe-Douglas (Horrible Histories, Ghosts) is brilliant as Milky, whilst Tamsin Greig (Black Books, Green Wing) shines as Rena, a pilot in a constant state of anxiety due to her species’ eight-hour life expectancy. Somehow, Size Five Games managed to net Don Warrington (Death in Paradise) to play Vvlak’s father, and he brings a suitable gravity to the role that’s a perfect contrast with his errant son. Taskmaster fans will get a kick out of Alex Horne and Mike Wozniak voicing secondary characters, with the latter doing a particularly fine job. Yes, a few of the stand-ups are a little wooden in their deliveries, but there’s fun to be had identifying them as they crop up.
There are two fairly distinct ways to tackle Earth Must Die. You can attempt to imbue Vvlak’s journey with a smidgen of self-reflection and the pretence of civility towards those who help along the way, or go the more fashionable burn-all-bridges, reject reality approach that has done the trick for a number of contentious 21st Century figureheads. Two playthroughs should tally around 13-14 hours, and whilst the reasonably routine gameplay mechanics mean some portions of the game are less compelling second time around, there are a few twists that make a return visit worthwhile. You can repeatedly disrupt Thelonius Skwid’s tech talk, turning it into a complete disaster, and thus rendering him entirely uncooperative thereafter. Making snide comments to security officer Betsy will result in her trying to bump off Vvlak in a fun extra sequence, whilst the various alternative dialogue options prove a motivation unto themselves.
There are two fairly distinct ways to tackle Earth Must Die. You can attempt to imbue Vvlak’s journey with a smidgen of self-reflection and the pretence of civility towards those who help along the way, or go the more fashionable burn-all-bridges, reject reality approach that has done the trick for a number of contentious 21st Century figureheads. Two playthroughs should tally around 13-14 hours, and whilst the reasonably routine gameplay mechanics mean some portions of the game are less compelling second time around, there are a few twists that make a return visit worthwhile. You can repeatedly disrupt Thelonius Skwid’s tech talk, turning it into a complete disaster, and thus rendering him entirely uncooperative thereafter. Making snide comments to security officer Betsy will result in her trying to bump off Vvlak in a fun extra sequence, whilst the various alternative dialogue options prove a motivation unto themselves.
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The logic rarely strays too far towards the obtuse, though there is the odd situation where you’ll run aground, most notably on Skwid’s sex boat (the worst place to run aground), which tasks players with deducing a symbol-oriented passcode, as well as discovering their correct pronunciations beforehand. Here, a little more signposting might have made this sequence more palatable. Earth Must Die never quite hits the highs achieved by Lair of the Clockwork God, but sees its solid gameplay bolstered by creative scenario design and an all-too-rare dip into the shark-infested waters of political satire. It may not be the best the genre has to offer, but smart scripting and the aid of a star-studded voicing line-up ensure EMD offers something different to your average point-and-click.
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VERDICT
"Its gameplay is nothing to write home about, but Earth Must Die remains a worthwhile endeavour thanks to a story that sports smartly-crafted political satire, a trove of great gags, and a marvellously aloof protagonist." OVERALL: 7/10 |
OTHER NOTEWORTHY POINT-AND-CLICK GAMES REVIEWED
Runaway: A Road Adventure (2001, PC)
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Born Punk (2022, PC)
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