Jellyfish Blind Box Is the Ultimate Aquarium Gambling Trap You’ll Regret
Hello everyone, today we’re plunging deep into the murky waters of “Jellyfish Blind Box,” scheduled to release on August 22nd, 2025. It’s being advertised as an “easy placement game,” which is a nice euphemism for “click, idle, repeat, and try not to wonder why you’re spending your evenings simulating what amounts to running a mildly shady jellyfish tourism business.” The premise? Buy mystery boxes with jellyfish inside, raise them, exploit them for profit, and then keep funneling cash into more blind boxes until you’ve collected the full Pokédex of aquatic blobs. Riveting. Truly riveting.


Gameplay First Impressions
You buy boxes. You open boxes. You sell boxes. You let the squishy contents float around in digital water while visitors queue up and pay money to look at them. So, basically, it’s a blend of Pokémon pack opening, Tamagotchi mechanics from the ‘90s, and a suspiciously capitalist aquarium sideshow simulator. Nothing screams “fun for hours” like watching a CPU render a jellyfish sprite wobble aimlessly in a tank while your coin counter ticks upward.
This is the gaming equivalent of leaving the TV on for ambience, except here you’re investing both time and money into watching pixelated gelatin sacks with tentacles. It’s less “gameplay,” more of an economic bubble waiting for its inevitable pop – a bubble filled with seawater, glowing screens, and the faint stink of unregulated monetization. This is the kind of game that makes you realize you’re essentially LARPing an aquarium manager with a gambling addiction. Congratulations, you’re not having fun – you’re managing risk portfolios involving jellies.
The Blind Box Gimmick
The magic words here are “blind box.” In the gaming world, that phrase is less about “mystery surprise mechanics” and more about “how do we justify selling gambling to children without calling it gambling?” It’s loot boxes in a different hat – except this time the hat is full of bioluminescent tentacles. At least when you gamble in Vegas, you get free cocktails and someone calls you “sir.” Here you’re gambling for the right to gaze at something resembling a screensaver jellyfish.
The developers proudly promise you 150 kinds of jellyfish. What a dream. Imagine grinding for dozens of hours just to unlock what amounts to different shades of translucent goo. Nothing screams “collector’s paradise” like a digital zoo of indistinguishable aquatic blobs. It’s completionism distilled into pixel aquatic nihilism. At least in real aquariums, you can get splashed or smell the marine funk. Here? Pure serotonin-extracted minimalism.


The AI-Generated Elephant in the Room
The developers admit that some of the art was AI generated, later “touched up” by hand. Translation: “We opened MidJourney, pressed generate, and then recolored a tentacle so we could pretend originality was involved.” That’s becoming a trend in indie developers – slap an “AI disclosure” sticker on it like it’s some sort of ethical badge, as though saying “yes, some of your beloved jelly sprites were birthed from the digital womb of a predictive algorithm trained on billions of stolen images” suddenly makes everything okay.
I’m a doctor, not of marine biology, but of diagnosing games with terminal AIitis. And let me tell you, this one is showing early symptoms. Sparse originality, reliance on AI art, and minimalist loop gameplay that will leave you staring at your monitor wondering if you’ve confused “playtime” with “slowly deteriorating brain time.” It’s like prescribing sugar pills and then charging extra because, technically, the pills are shaped like jellyfish.


System Requirements and the Sad State of Affairs
The system requirements proudly state that this “next-gen aquarium simulator” can run on a GMA 950 GPU. For those not in the know, that’s hardware so old it practically belongs in a museum next to Windows XP. This isn’t so much future-proof as it is locked in a time capsule. They’re even kind enough to remind us that Steam will drop Windows 7 support by 2024 – which is a hilarious contrast. It’s like bragging about your Ferrari and then saying, “by the way, the tires are inflated with helium, so it only runs in clown shows.”
200 MB storage requirement. How generous. That’s less than my word processor uses to update spellcheck dictionaries. I suppose it’s a mercy for players: the less space this jelly-filled charade takes on your hard drive, the better. Install, collect some goo, sigh in existential dread, uninstall – rinse, repeat.
Gaming Metaphors and Conspiracy Corner
You know what this game feels like? The idle aquatic version of Diablo 3’s auction house – except instead of trading high-tier loot like “Godslayer Greatswords,” you’re flipping ethereal bags of ocean slime. Somewhere, I can imagine a tinfoil-hatted conspiracy theorist saying this is all a psyop to normalize blind-box gambling in children by disguising it as a cute aquarium management game. And frankly, that’s not even that far-fetched. Gamify addiction loops, slap them in colorful packages, and sell them under the banner of “casual fun.” Same formula the gacha industry’s been fattening on for years.
And just to point out – jellyfish literally don’t have brains. Perfect mascot choice, considering that’s also how they’re treating the players. Just keep floating, keep paying, don’t think too hard.
Final Verdict
So, what’s the final take? “Jellyfish Blind Box” is less of a game and more of an aquarium-themed slot machine that lets you pretend to be an aspiring marine mogul. The gameplay loop looks thinner than hospital soup, the art direction is AI-assisted at best (cheap shortcut at worst), and the entire blind-box premise reeks of exploitative design disguised as casual entertainment. Yes, it’ll probably run on your grandfather’s toaster, and yes, there’s something vaguely soothing about watching jellyfish float around. But is that enough to count as a compelling game? Not in the slightest.
This is not a game. This is gambling with extra steps, a fish tank wallpaper you get to overpay for.
Overall impression: Bad. This is the diet cola of gaming – all fizz, no flavor, and leaves you more bloated than satisfied.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is entirely my opinion.
Article source: Jellyfish blind box 水母盲盒, https://store.steampowered.com/app/3069070/Jellyfish_blind_box/