I grew up in Yugoslavia and then in what was left of it - Serbia. My family's primary vehicle until last year was a Yugo. We used it for a total of 27 years.

Jalopy deals with a complicated and extremely depressing time of the Eastern bloc and Balkans. Having a car like a Laika wasn't about customization, it was about having a cheap car that broke down all the time and you had to create a Frankenstein monster by mixing and matching various off-brand or generic parts from other, better vehicles. Adding flaming decals to a cheap car was a clear example of the time: showing prestige on something cheap and pathetic, because that's all you could get.

Jalopy isn't a depressing game, but it's a very good timepiece. Travelling somewhere else felt nice, soothing, because you were surrounded by the beautiful vistas of the region. Going to a shop felt depressing because they were empty. You wonder why every gas station doesn't have spare tires, but that's what it was like - you were lucky to find basic things. The cities are cold, the motels are bare (and the toilet can't even flush), the border patrol sometimes takes ages to check your papers, making you wonder whether you did something wrong...

But in all of this, it does the gamey things of giving you loot in boxes left on the road, letting you find abandoned Laikas with spare parts, scrap yards with mini puzzles to solve and rare parts inside. It does this, because everything you do lets you make your Laika better, more reliable. Because something as silly as making a horrible car be less horrible was the type of absurd solace people found back then.

It's not about pimping a ride, making a silly car, surviving in the wilderness, or anything like that. It's about capturing a moment in time, the state of millions of people through gameplay of mundane activities.

If that's something you can appreciate and think you can enjoy, Jalopy is the game for you. I can't wait for the full release.

It is rare to find an actual Slavic story in a video game. It's usually relegated to the aesthetic part of it - the weird folklore, or the garments and architecture. And while these still have their place in media, capturing the essence, the thread that connects Slavic countries in their themes and worldviews has eluded most titles, but Felvidek delivers it in spades.

Many Slavic comedies, whether they are in film or literature, lean into the absurdity of life. Everything is funny, until it no longer is, but you don't stop laughing. Pavol is a drunk knight, and that's funny. Everyone makes fun of Pavol, and that's funny. Pavol is whining over his wife leaving him - oh the comedy! Pavol fights funny Hussite highwaymen - hilarious! Pavol looks over the body of his adversary and says "I'm so tired of death everywhere I go." And the ice cold water bucket drops on you and you realize, none of this is funny anymore, but Pavol can't stop smiling or laughing, because if he did, the only alternative would be to cry.

While I am Slavic, I am not Slovak, but I still feel seen by this game. It's rare for me to play something, and get all the jokes, get all the emotions, get all the references. I will laugh at Pavol, I will laugh with Pavol, and I will cry for Pavol, because he can't do it himself.