Splatoon 3

We open on a clear, blue sky – as vivid a hue as any with which you’ll ink your environment and opponents in Splatoon 3. In the wastes below, an Inkling shelters from the baking sun, shawled in a threadbare cloak, sporting mirrored shades and what appears to be some kind of breathing apparatus.

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Once you’ve chosen their look and that of their diminutive salmonid ally, you’re thrust into a brisk control tutorial. Then it’s a short journey aboard a train to Splatsville, a new city hub. It’s only then that we remember Nintendo’s promise that the result of Splatoon 2’s final Splatfest would be honoured by the third game. Chaos reigned, though you’d be hard-pushed to tell: the new hosts’ broadcasts and the ranked modes might have ‘anarchy’ in their names, but there’s little sign of revolution here.

That goes for Splatoon 3 as a whole. Sure, there are small changes all over the place – judicious nips and tucks of the kind we’re now expected to refer to as ‘quality-of-life improvements’ (is anyone’s life really being improved by this stuff, or have we been collectively suckered into adopting a marketer’s term for the kind of refinements and additions you’d ordinarily expect of a sequel?), as well as a more expansive selection of stages, weapons and modes from day one. There’s no denying that Splatoon 3 feels a more generous package at launch than its two predecessors. Equally, you would struggle to argue against the assertion that this is Nintendo’s safest, most conservative sequel in recent memory.

Perhaps that was inevitable. With