Thank Goodness You’re Here! is an adventure video game released on August 1, 2024, for PC, Nintendo Switch, PlayStation 4, and PlayStation 5.
I’ll tell you what, I’ve not played owt quite like Thank Goodness You’re Here! in years. It’s one of them games where you sit down, thinking you’ll just have a quick go before tea, and then next thing you know it’s half midnight, you’ve let your brew go cold, and you’re still grinning like a daft sod. Honestly, it’s got that perfect balance of daft northern humour, strange little characters, and just enough oddness to keep you guessing what’s round the corner.
The setup’s simple enough: you’re this little bloke who’s turned up in a town that’s recognisably northern but at the same time feels like it’s slipped through into some parallel universe. The voices, the turns of phrase, the whole tone of it — it all feels proper familiar if you’ve grown up anywhere in Yorkshire, Lancashire, or even further up.



What I love most is how much personality it’s packed with. Every corner you turn, there’s some daft little interaction or mini-quest. You’re not just ticking off boxes on a map like most open-world games — you’re chatting to a fella about pigeons, or helping someone paint a fence, or just causing daft mischief because the game lets you. And it doesn’t take itself too seriously. It knows it’s ridiculous and leans right into it. It’s like being inside a cartoon version of a northern village, complete with all the gossip and weird local traditions.
The humour, though — spot on. It’s not that forced, “look how quirky we are” kind of thing you get in some games. This is dry, knowing, cheeky, with that sharp edge only northerners seem to pull off. Half the lines sound like something someone would mutter after a pint, or like the local shopkeeper who somehow knows everyone’s business but pretends he doesn’t. I found meself laughing out loud loads, which doesn’t happen often with games.



Visually, it’s gorgeous in a way that’s hard to describe. It’s colourful and cartoony, but with these little surreal flourishes that make the world feel slightly off — in the best way. Like when you walk down a street you know, but something’s just not right about the lampposts or the way the houses lean in at you. That sort of off-kilter charm makes it really memorable.
And the pacing’s bang on. It never drags, never feels like it’s padding itself out. Everything you do feels like part of the world, part of the joke. It’s over before it wears out its welcome, which is rare these days when most games are desperate to last 80 hours. I’d rather have a tight, funny, unforgettable few hours than a bloated slog any day.
One of the best things about Barnsworth is all the daft little jobs you end up roped into. It’s not just “go here, kill that, fetch this” like in most games. Nah, in Barnsworth, you’re more likely to be asked to clear out a back garden full of snails or fix the fryer in a chip shop, or bake a big pie. It’s mundane on paper, but the way it’s delivered makes it hysterical.



Every job feels like it’s been written with a wink. The folk of Barnsworth don’t ask nicely either; they nag, they guilt-trip, or they just assume you’ve got nothing better to do. It’s bang on to life in a northern town, where you can’t nip to the corner shop without bumping into someone you know or wants a favour. The game nails that small-town “everyone knows everyone” atmosphere, but turns it up to eleven so that every task becomes a mini-comedy sketch.
Honestly, it’s one of them rare games where I can say it feels northern through and through without it being patronising or full of clichés. It’s like someone finally bottled the daft spirit of northern life and turned it into an interactive comedy.
So aye, for me it’s a straight 10/10. It’s clever, it’s funny, it’s charming as owt, and it made me feel like I was wandering round a daft version of me own hometown. Thank goodness it’s here indeed.
