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Thirsty Suitors has a surprising amount to say about culture, acceptance, self-expression, and growing from your mistakes. That being said, I did not grow past my lifelong videogame mistakes, and, as I’ve done so often in the past, I failed to manually save the game at regular intervals. So when a glitch wouldn’t let me restart a battle after dying, I had to quit the game and return back to the start of the level. Much like Jala my mistakes caught up to me, but, unlike Jala, I doubt that will make me change my ways.
Like A Dragon Gaiden then is both cursed and blessed by familiarity. It’s so much like the games before it that it’s predictably fun, boisterous, funny, well-acted and directed. It is also a bit tame, especially by the standards of the series, rarely pushing in terms of narrative and character in the bold ways Like A Dragon has become well-renowned for, making for a welcome-if-unnecessary side chapter in Kiryu’s story before what appears to be a conclusion for everyone’s favorite ex-yakuza. But even if it falls short in some unfortunate places, this “budget-sized” installment in the series is just as wonderful and bountiful a place to jump into and fall in love with its inane brand of magic.
But don’t let me be a downer. Here’s the good: Detective Pikachu Returns does not require much from you. It won’t ask you to do anything especially complicated and you get to look at cute Pokémon. It won’t ask you to get too emotionally engaged nor will it demand too much of your attention or energy. You can be infinitely wrong in your deductions, and it will still offer reprieve. Detective Pikachu Returns has its funny moments, its emotional moments, and its gratifying moments without requiring much effort in return, and for some, that is an ideal videogame. But, if you’re coming to Detective Pikachu Returns hoping for a fast-paced, semi-engaging narrative, or even much of a plot in general, just watch the movie. Pikachu is equally cute in both.
Although Ghostrunner 2’s attempts at expanding its setting fell flat, and I wish it ran better, its central action feels sharp thanks to its empowering movement abilities, extensive offensive tools, and pulverizing but generally well-designed enemy encounters. Most of these thrilling sequences require acrobatics that had me frantically switching between maneuvers as I narrowly avoided bullets and blades. While it has some weak stretches, and its cyberpunk narrative doesn’t offer much to the canon, its frenetic platforming was enough to keep me plugging back in.
At its core, Fae Farm is a beautifully rendered farming simulator that, in my opinion, could compete with the best of its genre. It’s mechanically familiar to anyone that’s played Stardew Valley or Animal Crossing while having a unique enough art style and storyline that it can stand out against other titles. It balances its necessary elements—story and community building—against each other in a way that creates smooth gameplay, and it presents a cozy vibe perfect for the fall and winter months ahead. There are some elements of Fae Farm that may leave some craving a bit more of a challenge, as well as technical issues that do set it back, but it makes up for itself by being creative and fun. I don’t find myself terribly compelled to play Fae Farm constantly, but it is an undeniably enjoyable, adventurous, and approachable game that has brought together the farming simulator and story genres in one cozy package.
Still, despite these problems, I’m glad I took the journey across Laika: Aged Through Blood’s barren hellscape. Despite its extreme violence and unapologetic bleakness, this space is defined by a surprising emotional range thanks to its compelling protagonist and her brutal quest to save those she loves. Motorcycle treks through the wastes are backed by a soundtrack that teases out pain only partially staunched by the thrills of motorcycle-backed duels. And perhaps most notably, it works as an underrepresented game about motherhood, detailing both the unfair expectations and triumphs that come from being a mom. It’s an experience capable of conjuring powerful feelings: disgust, despair, and a smoldering hope that our gunslinger’s actions can improve the lot of those closest to her.
Saltsea Chronicles, put more simply, is triumphant. It’s up there (amongst very tough competition) for the best game I played this year. I found its measured and realistic portrait of the collectivist society it portrays extremely hopeful. It pushes the medium forward, as cliche as that may be to say, in its insistence on theorizing the specifics of a social and political philosophy to its conclusion.
Besides that hitch, Marvel’s Spider-Man 2 is a largely commendable sequel, building on what’s come before it in smarter ways than I’d put past most AAA titles. It’s an impressively lean and refined take on the open world structure that gives me hope the future isn’t just endless growth. Its familiarity is both a crutch and a boon that Insomniac manages to spin in a mostly good light in order to tell a story we’ve seen before with some key changes that make it land more impactfully than I’ve seen it done in quite some time. Though it sometimes struggles to use the entirety of its cast to great effect, I think what it does accomplish is no small task and more than anything, sets up an exciting future for characters I’ve grown remarkably fond of and can’t wait to see more of. If you’re wondering whether or not this title delivered here and now though, rest easy knowing that yes, it absolutely did.
In spite of it all though, CD Projekt Red has struck it out of the park. Cyberpunk 2077 finally shines the way it was always meant to. I hate talking in anything that resembles platitudes, but Phantom Liberty is an honest-to-goodness triumph. It’s not just the narrative I hoped for out of the original game, it’s everything it ought to have been. It properly sands away the rough and occasionally raw elements and designs of the base game and sharpens its best parts into a weapon like little else. It doubles down and makes it clear this is a world worth telling stories in. It more prominently and earnestly wears its heart on its sleeve, all the while delivering characters and consequences that hopefully ripple outwards in brilliant and bold new ways. It’s everything I could’ve wanted Cyberpunk 2077 to be.
Yet another solidly designed, thoroughly enjoyable, predictably weird, unoriginally off-the-wall Assassin’s Creed game. May they make 13 (or 29) more.
No genuinely good game has ever been hurt by being too easy, though. With El Paso, Elsewhere Strange Scaffold has given us one of 2023’s great games—one that’s in constant conversation with the medium’s past, while simultaneously brushing against the emotional and intellectual boundaries of games. And it does it all with one hell of a sense of a style. El Paso, Elsewhere’s greatness lies not in the excellence of any one of its single components, but in the consistently high level of quality found across all of them. It does everything it tries to do exceedingly well, with sound, image, story, and interaction combining into a uniformly great package. Game designers can learn a lot from El Paso, Elsewhere, and perhaps even act on that knowledge, if their publishers let them.
If I have a major issue, it’s that just as this sensation is fully kicking in, this relatively brief journey comes to a close. The problem isn’t so much the game’s length but that it only reaches its full potential in this last hour or so as it bounds towards its climax. Also, while the ultimate conclusion doesn’t necessarily undermine what came before, it doesn’t quite elevate it either, as its fairly straightforward demonstration of what it’s all “about” is somewhat clumsy compared to what it more elegantly achieves through its mechanics. Still, even if it doesn’t entirely stick the landing, Cocoon’s mind-warping puzzles and well-realized setting make for an out-of-this-world experience.
When I think back on my time with Armored Core VI, I can’t help but think about my fondness for the voices over the radio. The way Rusty was so cool when he showed up to help bail my ass out. Or the progression of Carla calling me a tourist. Then all the arguments and shared triumphs with real world friends over which bosses were too hard and which weapons were too cheesy. The way we share this game with one another. From Software manages to make connections in small, delicate internal ways, and also big messy explosive ones that I don’t think they can possibly plan for.
Gunbrella ultimately fizzles out, playing its strongest card upfront and stumbling as it attempts to follow it up with something meaningful. For what it’s worth, playing with the eponymous central mechanic is never anything but a joy, but the rest of the game around it, however, never flies quite as high as you do. While the world it builds is a compelling and stylish parallel to our own present and future anxieties, it does little else but reflect them. A great sense of style and killer accessory can’t carry all the ambitions of Gunbrella, a game that certainly wants to tackle a great deal of subject matter and design ideas, but should’ve probably settled for fewer than it did.
Playing Starfield makes me want to play games that explore space and games that were made by Bethesda, but it doesn’t make me want to play Starfield. It tries to give us the universe, but it’s so weighed down by its own ambitions and a fundamental lack of inspiration that it can’t even get into orbit.
It’s unfortunate that Sea of Stars doesn’t entirely stick the landing considering everything else about it is riveting to see and be a part of. It wears its influences on its sleeves, but rarely feels burdened by those expectations or particularly shackled to them. In fact, it fights tooth and nail to stand apart and wonderfully accomplishes it. It’s beautiful to look at and a joy to listen to, and I could get lost in its warm and fun fantasy over and over. There are also places that Sea of Stars goes that I want to share just about as much as I want everyone to find for themselves. If you’re at all familiar with the studio’s oeuvre, you know the delightfully weird places Sabotage enjoys taking its games, and how smoothly it translates retro aesthetics and mechanics into the modern era. In short, Sea of Stars is a magical game well worth playing just for the thrilling and heartfelt adventure it delivers.
There’s nuance in these stories—look to the attempts, successes, and failures of just about any other fantasy RPG—but Arcadian Atlas either doesn’t know that or doesn’t want to admit it in favor of simplistic moralizing. The moment to moment writing falters too, meaning that no matter where you look for growth or substance in the game’s story and characters, you’re bound to smack into walls of derivative tropes and bland archetypes. As much as it wants to resemble the classics, Arcadian Atlas can’t help but feel pared down and simple; in a word, it’s modern, born from a philosophy that subtracts more than it adds before dressing it up to appear otherwise. Yet despite its weaknesses, Arcadian Atlas is easy to pick up and breeze through, ensuring that its brand of tactics-lite gameplay will almost definitely be someone’s gateway into an infinitely more complex and rewarding genre, even if it struggles to conjure those strengths for itself.
Disney Illusion Island ultimately proves to be more Disney than Metroid. That makes sense: they’re selling this game based on Mickey and Minnie, after all. If you’re a Hollow Knight or Ori fan looking for something as challenging or emotionally powerful as those games, you probably never expected a game starring Goofy to deliver on that. Illusion Island gives us what it promised: a light, fun Metroid-style game with multiplayer, built around Disney’s most beloved characters, and that’s ideal for younger players and their friends and family. You’d have to be seriously goofy to find any fault with that.
Before I decided it was time to break from playing and settle in for the long process of writing my chronicle of the Auriga Vault, I sent a signal to my Carpathia, far away in another ocean entirely. It read: I was wrong. It’s not the men having a bad time. It’s me. And I’m loving every horrible minute of it.
Remnant 2‘s just kind of got all the trappings necessary for me to keep sitting down for hours on end and drown the rest of the noise out in its cacophony of demon/robot/fae/rock-monster/evil village-slaying goodness.