I’m a Little T-Pose - To a T is Eccentric, Thought-Provoking and Full of Heart
- Marielle Bokor
- May 28
- 6 min read
A game about someone trapped in a T-pose could easily have gone the way of Goat Simulator. And, really, there’s nothing wrong with that. I had a great time flinging goats this way and that and observing their unique physics.
In this case though it’s so much more. To a T is a game about disability, bullying, the nature of perfection and even the nature of art.
This isn’t altogether unexpected. To a T has been birthed into this world by Keita Takahashi, a legend in the game world who’s something of an auteur, with a distinctive library of titles that have become defining moments in game history, published by none other than Annapurna Interactive, known for bringing indie voices to the forefront in gaming, helping things like Kentucky Route Zero, Journey, Gone Home and Outer Wilds find the spotlight.
Takahashi is most known for Katamari Damacy, the one where the crazy ass King of All Cosmos goes on a bender, destroys all the stars in the universe, then makes his son fix it, all the while telling him he’s not doing a good enough job of it?
When you say it that way it doesn’t sound as fun as it is though. Because awful boomeresque parenting choices aside, Katamari Damacy made an everlasting mark on video games. Its surreal style, odd side stories, earwormy soundtrack and addictive gameplay made it a cult classic.
It’s not hard, but it’s fun. It’s not deep, necessarily either, though not without meaning. It just is. Rolling around the Earth trying to collect enough crabs to build Cancer is more ridiculous than it is difficult, though I also still hear the Katamari timer music in my most anxious of nightmares – but this simple, somewhat sandbox gameplay is just that - simple.
After parting ways with Bandai Namco due to creative differences (among them his wishes to not repeat works, despite his later involvement on We <3 Katamari, the Katamari sequel) he went on to design other incredibly colorful, creative and unusual games,including Wattam, an off the wall game where you make friends with antropomorphized poops, fruits and other random objects and a crank based time travelling game for the also crank based Playdate handheld.
To a T is markedly different than its predecessors though, because though it shares the same DNA, it is a lot more straightforward, and a lot less fantastical, at least at first.
Despite the T-pose’s origins being glitch-based, your character’s problem feels a lot more real world. It’s hard to imagine linking a “funny internet meme” to the reality of life as a disabled tween, but that’s where a little bit of genius really helps.
Each part of the game is told in episodes, and, as such, they all start the same. With a jazzy theme song by Prep that’s actually pretty poignant. “I want to change PJ/I want to dry my face/I want to use the restroom by myself/The little things, the little things are hard for me…
As catchy as the tune is, it’s pretty melancholy. And pretty true. The little things are a lot harder when you’re the shape of a T. Your character can’t get dressed normally, needs adaptive utensils to eat normally, and just takes up a lot of space where other people don’t. Most of the beginning episodes of To a T are just you trying to figure out how to work with the body you have, and in tandem with your service dog, who does things like help you get dressed, put toothpaste on your toothbrush and accompany you to school.
Don’t expect total normalcy though. Right away the absolute oddity of a Takahashi game becomes apparent, with strange characters that inhabit the world of your cereal box reacting to changes in your world, giant pigeons who are NOT DJs, and the absolute shadiness of your family situation. Your mom’s nice and all,but she’s definitely got secrets.
School is a nightmare. Literally and figuratively. And as you’d expect in an imperfect world, at that, a middle school, you being the shape of a T is really really cringe. Not only do you bump into people, you’re just weird, and weird things (especially supernatural things) just seem to happen around you. And the bullies really let you know it, quite literally hiding in bushes and lurking in corners just to get their chance to snicker at you.
What else isn’t helping your illustrious middle school career is that you seem to have developed some…powers. You can…spin? Fly? Most of the time it knocks you out, but when it doesn’t, it causes outsized catastrophes and a lot of embarassment.
Most of the gameplay in To a T consists of cozy game elements and coordinated action puzzles. Brushing your teeth requires you to hold your extra long toothbrush to your mouth while moving your head up and down. Pouring milk and cereal is a herculean task, and every time you try to go through a doorway, you’re gonna have to slide through it sideways. You can’t even ride a bicycle like a normal kid. Instead, you’ve got a talking unicycle your mom rebuilt for you that you can call from anywhere. Not that that’s weird or anything.
One of my favorite things about To a T and Takahashi’s work in general is how incredibly abnormal the worlds are while simultaneously feeling mundane. No one bats an eye at the man sized pigeon, or the giraffe who went to culinary school and also possesses one of those time turner things so she can simultaneously man every type of food stand a cute little city needs, but as soon as the dog starts walking on its back legs and talking, everyone’s waiting to be abducted.
And while fourth wall breaking and freaky throwaway lines that imply even freakier lore in the world didn’t surprise me, the sweetness and linear nature of To a T did a little bit. At the heart of it, you’re every 13 year old who’s ever felt different, and who’s going through changes they don’t understand. It’s just that your mom may or may not have slept with an alien, your hairdresser is a crab, and occasionally a full chorus comes around and sings about your life.
It’s just you, your mom and your dog in the beginning, with some friendly familial faces like the giraffe helping make even your darkest days a little brighter with sandwiches and songs, but as you travel through the world and progress the story, you’ll befriend your bullies, learn the truth about your family, and even find a secret ninja club. Before you know it, the somewhat tedious nature of “getting ready” in your t-pose form becomes welcome and familiar as you start the day.
To a T has a way of sneaking into your psyche, and while initially I admit to a little boredom with the toothbrushing and mini-games, I soon fell in love with my T-posey self and got captured by the mystery of where my powers came from and why strange things were happening in my small seaside town.
Some of the tedium comes from a little bit too little signposting, if you ask me. While I don’t want to be railroaded as a player and a lot of the joy of Takahashi’s games comes out of exploration and silliness, it would also be okay if there were things like fast travel, an objectives menu or a world map that’s persistent. Some of the mini games were explained better than others, too, and that could lead to frustration while you were figuring out what to do. I even got softlocked a few times, where I either got stuck on terrain and had to reset to the beginning of the chapter, or somehow made it impossible for myself to progress while in the middle of a mini game or quest.
I also can’t say I didn’t see where the story was going, though how it gets there is a true testament to the bizarre mind of its creator. Still, I found myself with that warming feeling in my chest when my bullies became my friends and we watched the sunset from the lighthouse, the same way I wiped a tear or two away when that same old theme song was punctuated by the message that perfection is in itself an imperfect goal, and we’re already all the perfect shape.
My time with to a T wasn’t without frustration, and the whole thing felt like a fever dream of sorts, in the familiar fun way that all Takahashi’s games do, but overall, I can say that To a T is surprisingly endearing, heartfelt and funny. While perhaps predictable in its somewhat expected happy ending, it was unexpectedly thought provoking about disability, inclusion, and the flawed pursuit of perfection in art, and it’s a game (and a soundtrack) I won’t soon forget.
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