WEBFISHING. HAHA. WHAT EVEN IS THIS GAME? Cast rod? Bye Bye! Reel in? NOPE! Fish AREN’T EVEN FISH—they’re interdimensional memory fragments shaped like trout. Oh, but don’t worry, the line physics are calculated using a quantum fishing algorithm that generates calm, except sometimes the rod glitches into Outer Space and catches a star instead of a salmon. Relaxation? Sure, if your idea of “relaxation” is feeling like a data packet lost in the Cloud Ocean.

ALWAYS ONLINE? ALWAYS VIBES. You’re not just fishing; you’re connected to FisherNet 3000™, the global tranquility server. Lose connection? Guess what: YOUR BAIT EVOLVES INTO A METAPHORICAL LIFE LESSON. The fish won’t even nibble if your ping is above 42 ms because, apparently, they’re sentient and judging you.

And don’t even START with the Chill Reel™ DLC. “Oh, it’s just relaxing,” they said. LIES. The second you download it, your rod starts whispering affirmations like, “You’re enough,” while the lake textures render perfectly because WHO NEEDS FPS WHEN YOU HAVE FEELS?! Cast a line, and suddenly the fish pop out of the water, do yoga, and ask if you’ve hydrated today.

MULTIPLAYER? Yeah, sure, hop in a boat with three other players, and no one speaks because the Quiet Protocol™ auto-mutes all chat. Why? SO THE FISH DON’T GET ANXIOUS. Oh, and don’t bother competing—this isn’t a leaderboard; it’s a HARMONY CHART, and Dave is winning because he caught a goldfish that unlocked an audio-guided meditation track.

Final Boss? THERE IS NONE. Instead, you meet The Great Carp of Consciousness, who just stares at you and says, “Why are you here?” before despawning into a cloud of pixels that smell vaguely like lavender. And then the credits roll, but they’re just names of random fish typed in Wingdings.

WEBFISHING GOES FLOATING DREAMS BYE BYE, ALWAYS SEROTONIN-BASED ROD MECHANICS. Fish don’t swim—they manifest as metaphysical truths. Cast line, reel peace, uninstall reality. 17/10.