An intriguing (though flawed) tale that hits on some powerful themes games rarely explore.
If you've ever played a Borderlands game, this is mostly more of the same. If not, it's a solid albeit unspectacular shooting and loot-hoarding.
It's a fun multiplayer take on star Wars despite repetition and a small number of locations.
Wonderful characters, ample secrets, tons of replayability. Boss fights can be tedious. A subversive spin on role-playing games that's packed with heart and humor.
Tales from the Borderlands episode two is, on the whole, a solid entry in what's becoming a darkhorse contender for my favorite Telltale series, not to mention an instance of Telltale finally going all-in on character moments.
It's Saints Row IV with too many cut corners. Some of the series' core fun remains, but it's sandwiched between disappointing filler.
Combat feels good at times, but overall the game is alternately bland and frustrating.
I do not believe Transistor is everything it could've been, but it's still close enough that I won't hesitate to recommend it to basically anybody. I critique because I love, and that second part is especially true in this case. Transistor's got brains, heart, and a knack for always knowing just what to say and when to say it. And also, perhaps more importantly, it knows precisely when it's better to say nothing at all.
The game accidentally became a perfect metaphor for itself. It's often charming and it really does mean well, but it has a bad habit of tripping over its own four feet when it really counts. I want to love my Octodad. I really do. But I don't think he really understands me, and – worse – I don't think he really understands himself.
It might seem like I'm really down on a lot of this game, but I'm actually not. I just can't help but complain about Revengeance's lows because they contrast so starkly with some brilliant (though poorly explained) base mechanics and positively amazing moments. I think a few precision-targeted snips here and there would've made for a much stronger experience, but Raiden and co still pack serious punch where it counts.
Here's hoping, however, that [the series] hasn't lost sight of the smaller threads that made its previous epic yarn great. The moments that forced players to care about characters who weren't technically extensions of themselves.
An occasionally frustrating open-world experience that's greater than the sum of its parts.
Being a hero has consequences, and Darkest Dungeon lays them bare.
A fresh, fast tactical strategy game that makes 2012's XCOM feel ancient.
Blood and Wine is equal parts triumphant and somber, a reminder of all the great times we’ve had with Geralt and some of the shitty things we’ve done in his shoes. It’s about facing down the totality of Geralt’s in-game legacy and—instead of regretting or redoing it—coming to terms with it.
Starbound is full of whimsy, surprise, and strange little interactions. It’s a universe unto itself, just begging to be explored.
A worthy successor to Planescape.
It is, on so many levels, an incredible achievement, packed with enough heart, intelligence, and confidence to sustain ten lesser games. It’s a testament to its form, even as it’s held back by it in places. It still feels premature to declare Original Sin 2 an all-time classic, as some have, but I imagine plenty of future games will borrow ideas from it. It’ll be a crying shame if they don’t.
Maybe it was that little touch, or maybe it was the fact that I was a bleary-eyed mess playing the game at 4 AM, but I felt so connected to… everything.
I'm far more invested in War of the Chosen than I was XCOM 2, and I thought XCOM 2 was fantastic.