Walkabout Mini Golf review: purely, modestly nice

When it comes to explaining the appeal of golf, nobody has said it better than George Costanza: “it’s just nice to be outside in a well landscaped area.” That quote from Seinfeld returned to me while playing Walkabout Mini Golf, an experience that’s nothing if not, indeed, nice, with tranquil music, intuitive gameplay and a variety of visually appealing, cartoonish looking environments.

First released in 2020, with a selection of courses that expanded over time, I eventually got around to playing the game after hearing many good things. It didn’t disappoint, though I wouldn’t want to pump it up too much: this is a modest experience. And that modesty is core to its appeal. 

Many will be familiar with the disappointment that comes from visiting a lackluster mini golf course: a glorified collection of holes surrounded by grubby AstroTurf. Exploiting VR’s ability to provide the kind of mini golfing experience that physical reality cannot, Walkabout’s courses are more elaborate than physical world counterparts, coming with all the bells and whistles, and in a variety of themes. For instance there’s a course set in space (Tethys Station), the desert (Arizona Modern), the Caribbean (Tourist Trap), and on the coast (Seagull Stacks).

These courses are pristine forevermore: the gardens don’t need to be tended, and the machinery never malfunctions. The downside of a hermetically sealed universe like this, always spotless and sterile, is a lack of lived-in details; a lack of habitation, and the comforting feeling that others have come before. In Walkabout Mini Golf, we know this world was immaculate before we arrived and will stay like this after we leave. It’d be fascinating if the developers found some way to counter that: to create virtual spaces that are blemished and worn-in; where our actions in the present have some impact, however small, on the future.

Where the game does find a degree of spontaneity, arising from the unpredictability of human behaviour, is in its social aspects, offering the ability to connect with fellow players for a quick round (or as many as you like). The first person I played with was a young woman from Brisbane, who I experienced a couple of courses with, beginning on “Quixote Valley,” where there’s windmills a-plenty. My next companion was a girl from the UK, who told me she plays the game for five or six hours a day (!!) and shared with me the location of several hidden balls. If you collect a certain amount, she explained, you can update your club—though the upgrade is strictly aesthetic. We played the “Original Gothic” course, which I wasn’t a big fan of: the holes felt more fidgety and the design tackier. Maybe I just couldn’t get my mojo working. 

Later I played with a Frenchman (on the “Arizona Modern” course) who couldn’t speak any English. I recited all I could remember from French classes at high school: je m’appelle Luke, comment t’appelles-tu? But it didn’t matter about the language barrier. Just as the various courses provide pleasant environments for conversations, they also provide pleasant spaces to be quiet. You know what’s a synonym for “pleasant”? Nice. Sometimes—to return to the wisdom of Mr Costanza—it’s just nice to be outside in a well landscaped area.