The Grisly, Goofy Shark Game Maneater Is Kept Afloat by a Great Central Mechanic

I’ve never had to wrestle with a controller as strenuously as I do in Maneater. Sharks might be efficient killing machines, but trying to play as one can be hell on your hands and your DualShock. Every time I try to munch on an alligator or mako I have to beat my controller into submission, pounding on the shoulder trigger to take a bite, and then immediately smashing the right joystick to flip around and keep my prey in sight. When we’re evenly matched, these little duels can go on for minutes; when I’m trying to eat up a beast that’s bigger or stronger than me, I have to resort to guerrilla tactics, ambushing them from out of the seaweed, and regularly making short tactical retreats to swallow down some grouper or catfish to regain strength. Maneater reinforces the life-and-death struggle of these undersea squabbles by making me really feel them. These shark fights are the best thing about this weird, ambitious, and inconsistent game, which can veer from disappointing to exciting within seconds.
The star of Maneater is a bull shark ripped from her mother’s belly as a baby and left to fend for herself in the wetlands of the Gulf of Mexico. As she cuts through the murky swamp water, feasting on docile wildlife and occasionally battling with more aggressive species, she grows larger and more powerful, one level at a time. Eating turtles, barracudas and other creatures earns her not just experience, but an array of other collectibles, which can be used to power up various skills she unlocks as she matures. She can even access an in-game map, which helpfully marks every goal and item with a different icon. She swims around tackling different missions and sidequests based around the mechanic of eating, unlocking new parts of the Gulf en route to an inevitable showdown with the shark hunter who gutted her mom.
Yes, it’s an RPG. Starring a shark. Feel free to make whatever puns or jokes would make you happy.
This deeply conventional structure can be a blessing and a curse. Always knowing where I have to go and what I have to do can keep me focused and on track. When I want to get moving and see what comes next, I can check out that map, power through a few missions, and be on my way. I never feel lost or like I’m wasting my time, unless I intentionally want to waste time.
Of course, wasting time is the best thing to do in Maneater, and all the responsibility dotted over that map can get a little exhausting. Swimming around, scuffling with gators, exploring the waterways and the sewer systems, gracefully slicing through the water—simply existing in this space feels freeing, in a way that few other games do. It spoils that sensation a bit when the game reminds me of all these things I’m supposed to be doing, like eating 10 humans on a beach, or slaying the area’s apex predator. The shark also has a detective instinct, like a Batshark, that pings everything of interest within a certain radius; again, it’s useful when I just want to make progress, but it’s at odds with what the game does best.