My clone wakes up in the hell pod for the dozenth time, and I am immediately desperate to leave. Martin Tweed, proud president of the universe’s 4th best space exploration company, yells at me from inside a cheesy company FMV memo. The ship’s computer lectures me about our dwindling supplies of resurrection goop. The Grob machine will not stop bleeting. Fortunately, there’s a planet out there to be explored, exploited and catalogued. All of it is colourful, most of it is gooey, and some of it is hostile. Far too much of it is fart jokes.
Journey To The Savage Planet is a romp, and a worthwhile one. It hasn’t quite left me feeling full, but I am a picky eater.
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