The Friendslop Genre Needs A New Name

I recently got my hands on Big Walk–an adorable “friendslop” puzzler from the minds behind Untitled Goose Game–and I can’t seem to put it down. But when I do finally pry my fingers from the keyboard and log out of Steam for the night, I can’t stop thinking about it, either.

Something about Big Walk has been bothering me since I first laid eyes on it, but there’s nothing wrong with the game itself. In fact, I’m with my colleague Mark Delaney on this one–Big Walk is one of the best co-op games ever, and it’s also a game that’s sort of difficult to define. Maybe that’s why it’s taken me so long to realize that what’s been bothering me isn’t the game itself, but the fact that it has been categorized as “friendslop.”

On paper, Big Walk falls firmly in the “friendslop” genre–its characters are goofy-looking, its physics are purposefully unpolished, and many of its best moments are born out of its use of proximity chat. But it’s not slop. It’s a thoughtfully designed, calming experience that is often very funny, but also quite relaxing. It’s not the kind of game that makes you think, “Ah, yes, the scream-at-top-of-lungs YouTubers will love this one.” It’s a charming, chill title with surprisingly beautiful graphics, and while it may not get your heart pounding, its uncomplicated, enjoyable gameplay loop will keep you (and your friends) coming back for more.

An image of four Big Walk player-characters, two of whom are trapped behind soundproof glass and are attempting to converse with their teammates by holding up signs with strange symbols on them. — Big Walk has all the hallmarks of a friendslop game, except for the “slop” part.

The term “friendslop,” as I see it, generally refers to an indie/low-budget/no-budget game that was quickly thrown together to capitalize on whatever is currently trending on TikTok or Twitch, is meant to be played with friends, and utilizes proximity chat. Big Walk checks some of those boxes, but it certainly wasn’t thrown together quickly–developer House House first conceptualized the game during the COVID-19 pandemic, when genre-definer Among Us was at the top of the Steam charts. But instead of releasing Big Walk immediately, the House House team spent the post-pandemic years refining the game, and it shows.

Big Walk is a delightfully weird little experience with genuinely breathtaking scenery and cute, funny-looking little player-characters that remind me of Pikmin. The soundtrack is soothing, and while the game is bound to get some funny gameplay clips trending on social media, it lacks the frenetic, in-your-face pacing of other friendslop games. Calling Big Walk “friendslop” feels reductive, mean, and frankly, inaccurate. It’s like calling Baldur’s Gate 3 a “dating sim”–it’s not wrong, technically, but that description certainly doesn’t represent the full picture the way “turn-based fantasy RPG” does.

Should we really be calling it “friendslop” if we genuinely do not believe the game’s quality is slop? And if not, what should we be calling this specific genus of indie co-op games?

One thing that really stands out to me about the best friendslop games is the fact that they mimic the games we played on the playground at recess. From structured activities like hide-and-seek to more abstract games with more abstract rules, the genre we call “friendslop” is pretty similar to the games we invented as kids: low-cost, low-stakes, meant to be played with friends, and over by the time the bell rings. From Among Us to Big Walk to Meccha Chameleon, “friendslop” games always remind me of the fondest years of my childhood, and I think it’s high time we stop calling them “slop.” Simplicity in game design doesn’t necessarily imply a lack of effort on the part of the developers, nor does it mean a game is sloppy.

I humbly propose an alternative. Stop calling them friendslop, and start calling them bro-ops: co-op games you play with your bros (of all genders).

A group of four Big Walk player-characters stand on each other's shoulders in an attempt to reach the solution to a puzzle hanging from above them via yellow iron scaffolding. — Big Walk features simple character designs, but its environments–modeled after the Australian outback–are breathtaking and realistic.

Okay, fine, “bro-op” is mostly a joke, but I still think it works better than “friendslop,” because the unfortunate truth is that “friendslop” has become shorthand for “whichever low-effort co-op game the most annoying streamers on the planet are screaming about at any given moment.”

Alternatively, maybe we should just rename all game genres to be as honest and self-deprecating as “Friendslop” is. In that case, we should probably start with free-to-play shooters, which shall henceforth be known as “Overpriced Cosmetic Skinslop.”

All jokes aside, calling it “friendslop” doesn’t just insult the games it’s used to describe–it also pigeonholes them into the “Among Us clone” category, which doesn’t do anyone any favors. Players who go in expecting an Among Us-style experience will probably be disappointed, while players who might otherwise enjoy the game may be reluctant to even try it if they aren’t fans of Among Us and other popular “friendslop” titles.

And that can lead to brilliant little games like Big Walk sometimes slipping under the radar, lost in a sea of other “friendslop” games with which it has very little in common in terms of both quality and general vibes. When I think of friendslop, I think of co-op games that are fast-paced, in-your-face, and often half-assed. Big Walk is none of those things, and “friendslop” doesn’t do much to convey what kind of game it actually is.

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