You’re drifting through a giant kaleidoscopic tree. One minute you’re fighting wasps with a nectar-fueled flamethrower, and the next, your partner is screaming because you just smashed their head with a giant wooden mallet in a game of Whack-a-Cody. This is the chaotic, brilliant reality of Hazelight Studios' masterpiece. Honestly, It Takes Two minigames aren’t just side content; they are the connective tissue that keeps the entire co-op experience from feeling like a chore. Most games treat collectibles like homework. You find a shiny orb, you get a trophy, you move on. Josef Fares and his team took a different route. They hid 25 unique, playable competitive breaks throughout the world that actually make you want to stop saving your marriage and start destroying your friend's ego.
It is weirdly refreshing.
Most people play through the story—which is a wild ride about Cody and May being turned into dolls—and they might stumble upon a few of these. But if you're rushing, you're missing the point. The game doesn't ping your map or give you a quest marker. You hear a distinct "tambourine" sound, see a hovering yellow circus tent, and suddenly you’re distracted for twenty minutes.
The Genius Behind the Placement of It Takes Two Minigames
Hazelight didn't just dump these into a menu. They are woven into the environments. Take the "Cuckoo Clock" chapter, for example. It’s a mechanical, precise world. So, what do they give you? A horse racing game. It’s simple, it’s fast, and it breaks the tension of the platforming.
There is a specific philosophy here that Fares has talked about in various interviews, including his famous "no-skip" stance. He wants players to engage with every mechanic. Because the main gameplay is purely cooperative, the It Takes Two minigames provide the only outlet for that competitive itch. You spend four hours helping each other survive a giant beetle, and then you get to vent that frustration by trying to out-tank each other in a top-down desert arena. It’s psychological brilliance disguised as a toy.
Whack-a-Cody and the Art of the Petty
The very first minigame you find is Whack-a-Cody. It’s located in the Shed. It’s literally just Whac-A-Mole, but Cody is the mole. May has the hammer. Cody can't actually lose health, but there is something deeply satisfying about the haptic feedback when May lands a hit. It sets the tone perfectly. It tells the player: "Yes, this is a serious story about divorce, but also, feel free to hit your husband with a hammer."
Some people find it a bit jarring. I think it’s essential. It grounds the fantasy in the reality of a relationship—sometimes you just want to win a silly argument. Or a silly game.
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Hidden Gems You Probably Missed
While everyone finds "Tank Brothers" or "Laser Tennis," there are others that require a bit of exploration. The "Snail Race" in the Attic is a personal favorite. It’s slow. It’s clunky. It’s intentionally frustrating. But it mimics the friction of the characters' relationship at that point in the story.
Then there's "Chess."
Yes, they put a fully functional game of Chess inside the game. In the "Setting the Stage" section of the Attic, you can just... sit there and play Chess. It’s a bold move. Most developers would be afraid it would slow the pacing down too much. But Hazelight trusts the players. They know that by this point, you’ve earned a break.
Why the "Plunger Shooting" is Actually Hard
Found in the "Deeply Rooted" section of the Tree, this one tests your aim. It’s basically a gallery shooter. The targets move fast, and if you’re playing on a controller versus a mouse, the difficulty curve feels totally different. This is one of the few areas where the game’s polish shows a tiny crack—the sensitivity can feel a bit "floaty" compared to the tight platforming of the main game. Still, it’s a blast.
Variety Over Depth: The Nintendo Approach
If you look at the mechanics of these minigames, none of them are particularly deep. You won't find the complexity of Street Fighter in "Snowball Fight." You won't find the depth of Forza in the slot car racing. But that’s the point. They follow the Nintendo school of design: one core "hook," easy to learn, impossible to stop playing until you’ve won at least three rounds in a row.
- Simplicity: Usually, you’re only using one or two buttons.
- Speed: Most rounds last under 90 seconds.
- Feedback: Big sounds, bright colors, and clear scoreboards.
It’s about the "Aha!" moment. You see the tent, you interact, you understand the rules in four seconds, and you’re competing. No tutorials. No fluff.
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The Impact on Replayability
Let’s be real: once you finish the story of It Takes Two, you know the twists. You know how the Rose situation ends. You know the Book of Love is annoying. So why go back? For many, it’s to find the It Takes Two minigames they missed on the first pass to get that "Minigame Megalomania" achievement.
The game tracks your wins and losses. This creates a persistent rivalry. If you’re playing with a long-term partner or a best friend, those stats matter. My house has a standing rule: whoever loses at "Volleyball" has to make the coffee. The game becomes a part of your actual life, which is the highest praise you can give to a co-op title.
Addressing the Critics: Are They Just Fillers?
Some critics argue that the minigames distract from the narrative. They say it breaks the "ludonarrative resonance"—the idea that gameplay should match the story's tone. If Cody and May are in a rush to reach their daughter, why are they stopping to play "Birdstar" (a rhythm game)?
It’s a fair point. But it misses the forest for the trees. The game is a metaphor for play. The characters are literally dolls. Dolls are meant to be played with. By engaging in these diversions, Cody and May are rediscovering the "fun" in their relationship. It’s not a distraction from the plot; it is the plot. They are learning to exist in the same space without it being about a mission or a goal.
The Technical Side of Things
From a development standpoint, creating 25 different mini-engines is a nightmare. Most games reuse assets and logic. But in It Takes Two, the "Icicle Throwing" mechanic doesn't feel like the "Plunger Shooting" mechanic. The physics are tuned specifically for each instance. This is why the game took so long to develop and why it feels so expensive despite its indie-adjacent spirit.
A Quick Reference of the Best "Hidden" Spots
If you’re looking to find them all, pay attention to the environment. Don't just run toward the yellow glow of the main objective.
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- The Shed: Look for the power circles. There’s a "Flip the Switch" game that is hidden behind some crates that people often jump right over.
- The Rose’s Room: Check the bottom of the "Dino Land" area. There’s a "Heavier Knight" game that is basically a button-mashing contest.
- Snow Globe: This is the densest area. You’ve got "Ice Race," "Snowball Fight," and "Shuffleboard" all tucked away in the village. Explore every icy corner.
The Cultural Legacy of Josef Fares' Design
Fares has a history with this. From Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons to A Way Out, he’s always obsessed with how two people interact with a digital space. But It Takes Two is the culmination. The minigames represent a shift in the industry. We are seeing more games move away from the "open world map fatigue" and toward "curated discovery."
People don't want 400 icons on a map. They want to be walking through a garden, see a weird swing set, and discover it’s actually a "Swing High" competition. It rewards curiosity rather than stamina.
How to Maximize Your Experience
If you’re starting a new save file or jumping back in, here is the move. Don't look up a guide immediately. Part of the joy is the "Wait, what's that?" factor. However, if you're a completionist, keep an eye out for the "tambourine" audio cue. It's directional. If you have headphones on, you can actually hear which way the minigame is located.
Also, don't sleep on the "Music" minigames in the Attic. They are mechanically the most complex because they require rhythm, which is a total departure from the platforming you've been doing for the last ten hours.
Actionable Insights for Your Next Session
- Listen for the Tambourine: This is your primary way to find hidden games. If you hear that jingle, stop moving.
- Check the "Chapter Select" Menu: If you’ve finished the game, the menu will actually show you how many minigames are in each section and how many you’ve found. It’s the easiest way to pinpoint what you missed.
- Don't Rush the Snow Globe: This level is a playground. Most players zip through the ice skating, but there are at least three minigames hidden in the verticality of the village and the surrounding lake.
- Vary Your Roles: If you played as Cody first, play as May next time. Some minigames, like "Whack-a-Cody," are entirely different experiences depending on who you are controlling.
- Use the Haptics: If you’re on PS5, the DualSense triggers behave differently in some of these games (like the "Tank Brothers" cannons). It adds a layer of immersion that makes the competition feel more visceral.
Ultimately, these small diversions are what make the game feel human. They are messy, sometimes unbalanced, and occasionally ridiculous. But they are also the parts of the game you’ll remember most when the credits roll. They turn a "co-op game" into a "shared memory." Go find that last one you missed in the Garden—it's worth the detour.