The more hazardous Crystal Slime, meanwhile, supplies the manure for a variety of transparent construction materials, while the nocturnal Phosphor Slime's faeces are ground up to fill lightbulbs. Of the relatively docile, omnivorous Pink Slime, for example, we learn that its crap is a key ingredient in coffee sweetener, cleaning spray and burger-mix - it's essentially the extra-terrestrial equivalent of corn syrup. That's right, this is a game about the economics of poop, and the in-game Slimeopedia is only too happy to go into detail about what each creature's excretions are used for back on dear old Earth. Scoop up and fire that plort into your farm's market terminal using your trusty vacuum gun, and you'll earn cash.
Feed a slime something and it'll squeeze out a 'plort' (a frightful piece of onomatopoeia that puts me in mind of, ugh, 'squanching' from Rick & Morty). A sort of first-person Harvest Moon knock-off with a splash of Dragon Quest, it casts you as Beatrix LeBeau, a pioneer seeking her fortune on a distant planet overrun by squealing, bouncing, emoji-faced slimes. I love a game that is both as sweet as apple pie and as dark as pitch, and Monomi Park's bubbly sci-fi farming sim Slime Rancher is very much one of those.
