“Death to all but breakfasts!” And it was with this statement that I realized my new skeleton friend Boneface really got me.
(Cue montage of Boneface and I visiting the
You know what kind of experience you’re in for as soon as you boot up Breakfast at Cemetery. The title screen stares back at your glazed morning face in blood-red splatter lettering, which reads “Bone Appetit.” It’s a Goosebumps kind of horror; all fun with cartoon body parts and schlocky horror tropes.
What I didn’t expect was to fall so utterly in love with a hungry 2D skeleton. If the title isn’t a play on “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” then I am making it one, as I am now Paul Varjak and Boneface is Holly Golightly, and my plight is one of struggling to make this bone-rattling socialite love me.
“I love you. You belong to me,” I say.
“No. Skeletons don’t belong to people,” Boneface replies.
“Of course they do,” I say, and then I prove it.
By playing Breakfast at Cemetery, I am able to use the game’s skeleton arm interface to assert complete control over Boneface’s right clavicle and wrist. With this power, I assist Boneface in the eating of 20 different breakfasts.
At first, it goes smoothly as I slide a slimy fried egg into Boneface’s delicate maw and she nibbles on it slowly. Next, I slam her bony wrist onto the lever of a toaster, and then have Boneface catch the toast as it is flung into the air. She munches on it as I whisper into her rotten ear canal, “That’s right, gobble it up, time to put some meat on those bones.”
She seemed shocked at the suggestion that I’d prefer to re-flesh her rather than be content with her exposed ribcage guarding her beating heart. This is when she started to fight against me. The utensils of the next breakfast didn’t see it coming.
I wrestled with Boneface to have her pour milk into a bowl of cereal, it spilling in every direction. Worst of all was trying to scoop up the cereal with a flimsy spoon in the time that was left. Fruity loops gained flight across the cemetery disturbing the other ghouls resting before their spooking shifts.
It all came to a crashing end. Boneface muddied the controls and I was unable to stop her as she grabbed the wooden table and flipped it with all her bony might. Then she looked at me square in the face, drunk with rebellion, a fruit loop stuck to her gaunt jaw, and said:
“You disapprove of me, and I do not accept food from gentlemen who disapprove of me.”