Still, there are some truly gorgeous dynamic action sequences that were welcome surprises, and a pleasantly playful sense of art direction that kept the more tedious times spent with Akito and KK from sagging. Even if the idea of a modern satire disguised as a horror-style mystery isn’t quite your bag, “Ghostwire” is a creative delight as a sort of alt-universe Tokyo sim, especially if you crave the feeling of hanging out in a FamilyMart (“FujiyaMart”) again.
The game did manage to answer one of my questions, though: Hercule Poirot does not charge his phone at night, and this, mon ami, might be the greatest modern crime of all.
The Banished Vault is, if anything, a master class in the economy and cruelty of space survival where every movement matters. It is wholeheartedly uncompromising in bending the player to its will and vision, and it is right to do so. I realize that the intangible, interstitial faith holding my exiles together has become fused with my own confidence in what I’m doing; I don’t care about parsing the minutiae of their civilization as much I care about having the chutzpah and half-assed math to pull us through.
More busywork doesn’t lessen the series-signature lootfest appeal
Perhaps my focus on the story mitigated the excitement of seeing how the computer was going to screw me over; perhaps the alignment agenda, while useful for a moralistic fantasy setting, undercut the chaotic spontaneity that usually makes 4X games so delicious. Maybe it would simply be more unpredictable in a multiplayer setting, because no one will sabotage you in 4X like a friend. The reality of 4X games that nobody likes to admit is that they aren’t as fun if you’re not winning, so half the battle is trying to keep new players engaged while they learn how to improve. Tending to the drama of an immortal pantheon is enough to keep me around, though I’m not sure for how much longer. If the repetition doesn’t kill you once you start struggling through higher tier realms, maybe the marauders will.
The Pale Beyond, for all its flaws and frustrations, still manages to retain a desolate sort of charm, rough edges and all. It isn’t afraid to put Shaw in horrendously painful situations where there’s no good outcome — there’s one exceptionally bleak scenario where you can practically feel the game gleefully milking what’s left of your serotonin. Coming off the ice and making land after nearly 40 weeks of hell really feels like moving between two worlds; the background art and environments are positively unearthly when shrouded in ominous fog and hazy light. The ocean scenes with icebergs awash in pinks and oranges are truly gorgeous, as are the dark, roiling storms. If only the internal logic of the overall plot was a little more cohesive, and a little less patched together, I feel like I would actually return to the Temperance and give it another whirl. As it stands, I’m still choosing the ending where I get to head home and eat a civilized meal.
God of War Ragnarök feels trapped between great design and blockbuster movies. The results are captivating and inconsistent.
In exploiting this fan-like thirst for knowledge as authority and authenticity — even if it occasionally undercuts the storytelling — the game also creates an easy choice for the curious outsider: Either play, or don’t. Immortality embodies the most enticing hallmarks of the “if you know, you know” meme — there’s no quick recap for a politely interested stranger that can adequately sum up the question What happened to Marissa Marcel? The only way to fully appreciate the scope of this project, flaws and all, is to throw all expectations of story and structure out the window, and realize that the simplistic divide between film and games is holding us back from doing so much more with either medium.
My relationship to Swansong has become almost like my ritual appointment with Passions — until I fully exhaust the entire story, I need my dose of ridiculous people making ridiculous decisions, and the nuclear fallout of their mistakes.
When I finally decide to end the game, I leave my Sleeper in the Greenway, where I imagine they can keep on going about their quiet, private routines. I’m not sure I’ll come back to the Eye again, because even if I make different decisions on another run, Citizen Sleeper’s most potent power lies in that first playthrough, when you arrive with nothing, and know even less. This isn’t so much about “replay value” as it is about the singular experience of a journey that — in keeping with the fiction of being a ragged Sleeper trying to survive — is very much a one-way street. Did I do right by my Sleeper? I don’t know. But all things must come to an end, and I feel like they would understand.
The original third-place-simulator gets a sequel with much of the same conversational charms, but also some rougher edges to its chit-chat.
As with most horror endings, Alan comes away from his literal journey to hell and back a changed man. There’s no particularly profound message lurking here, which is actually kind of nice after all the chaos. Sometimes shit just happens, most of all in Hollywood. I leave this incarnation of Los Angeles with no regrets, but a fierce, bittersweet ache for the city I once called home, and surprisingly (and perhaps this is the benefit of distance), a twinge of affection for its insufferable movie bastards, many of whom probably, honestly, need an Edward Keller moment in their lives.
Witty, observationalist writing and a hands-off approach to deduction elevate this excellent period murder-mystery to a singular work.
This narrative-driven dice game from Cosmo D is packed full of his signature visual and musical motifs, and loosely picks up your pizzaiolo/secret agent journey from 2020's Tales From Off-Peak City Vol. 1.
Stray is the work of sly cat people, and it’s a triumph
A serviceable, sometimes-engaging official Star Trek version of Stellaris that makes sense for generic space war fans, but flounders when it comes to narrative logic and Trekkie authenticity.
A dark-fantasy western RPG with a compelling world and an ambitious narrative, Weird West is undermined by awkward combat and micromanagement. Weird West's rotating multi-character perspective will be an acquired taste, but makes sense as a method of world-building. It's got room to grow, but right now, it's challenging to build momentum in the early game and to persevere through the mid-game.
Conway is a solid detective game that ticks a lot of the right boxes and fulfils standard sleuthing expectations. It leans well into the crotchety-old-protagonist stereotype which more often than not creates an interesting tension between Conway and his ensemble cast of neighbors, as well as with you as a player. It's not tremendously challenging in terms of hard solves, but it's more about the journey. You could do worse than spend 10 hours immersed in the small and all too human miseries of Dahlia View.
As someone with a lifelong soft spot for the medium-specific charm of video game glitches, Cyberpunk 2077's botched launch just ain't it. Even overlooking the rushed rollout, after an eternity of being bludgeoned in the face with hyperbole, running through 2077 feels like five different games stitched together into an entertaining, passably decent, generic behemoth.
Much of Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree is more of the same gruelling beauty - but a shift to explict storytelling and signposting means its essence as a living, evolving shared text is lost.