After captivating me at last year’s PAX Australia, I’ve been anticipating Pro Jank Footy ever since. I’ve endeavoured to keep a keen eye on its development, including its stint on Steam Next Fest and its pub crawl as an arcade cabinet—an exceptionally fitting fit-out for a game such as this. Pro Jank harkens back to the arcade, pared-back sensibilities of something like Aussie Rules on the original Nintendo, folding in a bit of biff as well as countless power-ups and modifiers that, one by one, slowly and surely break the game.
It’s equal parts magnificent and infuriating, and it most certainly has its use cases, exceeding more so as a competitive couch experience rather than something you’d play against any old randoms online, although that is possible.
Pro Jank Footy succinctly boils down the incredibly complicated and, at times, convoluted sport of Aussie Rules into a more streamlined version free of a lot of the fat that tends to plague the sport and make it tough to officiate. It’s almost a snapshot of footy from the eighties; it’s a tough slog where bombing it forward makes up a bulk of the strategy. Of course, Pro Jank’s whole gimmick revolves around injecting chaos into that formula through power-ups that can be unlocked by either picking up meat pies wandering the field with their saucy lids or by having goals kicked against you.
I will note that the game does offer a regular version of the sport, free of rule-altering power-ups, which is a perfectly adequate way to play the game. It might lack the chaotic energy of the full Pro Jank experience, but I found its efficiency in delivering the fundamentals, save for a few weird instances of hit behind posts registering as scores, quite elating. There’s no stand rule, there’s no 50m penalties, no last possession turnovers; it’s good and hard footy in its rawest form.
The full Pro Jank experience, though, is clearly the game’s signature mode, and when it’s in full flight, it’s an absolute riot. The games aren’t terribly long, with the quarters only being a few minutes each, but by the time you’re nearing the third-quarter break, enough power-ups are in play that the game’s coherence is hanging by a thread. Although I am sure there are countless power-ups I’ve yet to see, there are some hilarious cards that can, in an instant, completely change the landscape of a game—certain combinations of which can feel downright unbalanced and unfair, which is where a lot of my frustration stemmed from at times. Whether it’s luck or a case of ridiculous rubberbanding, to have an opponent land cards that grant 10-point goals, goals being worth three times their value, and then ‘Shopping Bag,’ a card that literally gifts a handful of free goals, in succession after being stomped for most of the game is deflating.
Not getting the rub of the green against the CPU is one thing, but having a real person honking into your headset as you endure the ultimate humiliation is certainly another. That said, it’s palatable when it’s a friend and all you can do is laugh and marvel at how very broken the game can be. Having played a handful of games online, the game was a little buggy outside of its marketed insanity, though nothing that truly hurt the experience.
The game’s season mode, which is a tower climb akin to Mortal Kombat’s Tower, does mix the formula up a little bit. Playing as the mode-exclusive team, the Cactus Sharks, you pick three power-up cards at the start of each game. Other than meat pie pick-ups, no other power-ups are awarded through conceded goals; however, collected cards carry through the entire season, meaning late-game matches are particularly janky—roll credits. Unless you get a dream run, I do think premierships might be elusive due to the unforgiving roguelike nature of it, but the road to glory is still a fun enough grind; just not as fun as playing online with friends.
One of the game’s more obvious strengths is perhaps how funny it is. With Broden Kelly, of Aunty Donna fame, on the commentary desk, the humour definitely skews larrikin with a big emphasis on taking the piss at all times. It’s a brand of humour that, I expect, might be lost on an international audience, though it hit with me—even if the scornful loser’s anthem, which very much lets you know that you suck, does add salt to the wounds of a close loss.
While the general banter, and even the funny original teams, including the Ceduna Doonas, are a feather in the game’s cap, so many of the power-up cards are definitely played for laughs. While it’s expected to see wild things like giant midfielders, players turned into seagulls, or literal brick walls blocking the goals, silly concepts like Dad’s Car, which injects a controllable, beat up sedan into the game, or having the iconic DVD logo pinging about the screen, tantalising us with its close calls with the perfect corner bounce, feel quite nostalgic and serves as proof that not one of us had a unique upbringing.
Pro Jank’s deliberately dated art direction, which plays into the retro pixel art aesthetic of yesteryear, is also one of its strong points. The game is determined to be as absurd as it can be at all times, evidenced by its lo-fi, blue-collar trailer animated by Michael Cusack. This distinct, exaggerated style bleeds into the game’s graphics, and there’s never a dull-looking frame in the thing. Though they’re a departure from the pixelated approach, I do adore the animated interstitials that serve as score checks.
Despite a bare-bones serving of modes, Pro Jank Footy is sure to become a bit of a mainstay in my online multiplayer rotations, particularly when I need a hearty laugh. Despite being a surprisingly competent facsimile of VFL-quality football from the late eighties, to see it constantly wallpapered over by an escalating brand of insanity can be joyous when it’s going your way.
