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The latest entry in the series may mark the end of Kiryu's tale, but don't worry; Sega gives The Dragon of Dojima the sendoff he deserves.
In gruff moments of fatherly instruction, Kratos repeats the phrase "be better" to his son, Atreus. This happens in different contexts, but the lesson remains consistent: Your decisions are not bound by precedent, and the choices of others are not examples to follow – they only set standards you can strive to exceed. In developing the latest God of War, Sony's Santa Monica studio apparently took this message to heart. While previous games in this series established a successful formula of stylish action and epic setpieces, the team used this opportunity to be better; with surprising changes on every front, God of War forges a new identity and surpasses even its most acclaimed predecessors.
As a longtime fan of the series, this entry captivated me for completely different reasons. The narrative is one of them, despite its simple premise: Kratos and Atreus need to reach the top of the highest mountain in the Norse domain. They encounter detours and surprises along the way, but the precise story beats are less important than how they are conveyed. God of War brilliantly presents a desolate journey in a gorgeous world, all through the lens of the relationship between a distant father and his eager son.
The interactions of Kratos and Atreus range from adversarial to compassionate, and these exchanges have ample room to breathe and draw players in. Atreus wonders what he might say to his departed mother if given the chance – an exercise Kratos finds pointless. When Kratos artlessly paraphrases the fable of the tortoise and the hare, Atreus mocks his lack of storytelling prowess. These quiet moments are interesting, slowly and believably closing the distance between two characters – a focus that contrasts sharply with previous games. In terse responses and long silences, Kratos conveys more than he ever did cursing Olympus at the top of his lungs.
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That isn't to say God of War has sacrificed its ability to deliver incredible spectacle. An early encounter (against a mysterious enemy called the Stranger) sets the bar absurdly high, and a cathartic sequence later on stands out as my favorite moment in the series to date. Between those points and beyond, the adventure is punctuated by a steady flow of enormous beasts, ancient architecture, and intense boss fights. The environments and characters look fantastic, and a new cinematic camera angle brings you close the action and never cuts away – a decision that proves immensely rewarding during big moments by giving you an intimate view. Despite this more grounded approach to presentation, the action's scope and ambition is stunning in cutscenes and combat alike.
The Greek world may be gone, but Kratos is still a god of war, and his skill on the battlefield is appropriately divine. He fires off magic attacks and performs brutal executions in his attempts to defeat a clever assortment of foes from Norse myth. The ice-infused axe Leviathan is a drastic departure from the iconic Blades of Chaos Kratos once wielded, but it is a well-balanced and entertaining tool of destruction. I like how it emphasizes a more calculated style of combat; instead of zoomed-out, combo-driven encounters, Leviathan makes you a tactician. You can't cut through huge swaths of enemies with it, so you need to consider how to manage your foes. You can freeze one from afar by throwing your axe, then use your fists to stun and grab another, then recall Leviathan for an area-of-effect ice burst. This kind of strategy gives many fights – especially one-on-one bosses – an engaging duel-like quality. Plus, the "thunk" of Leviathan magically flying back into Kratos' hand is satisfying every time.
During the first few hours, I had doubts about the axe-and-shield emphasis. In those opening segments, crowded melees are difficult to navigate due to off-screen attacks, which encouraged me to keep my distance – at least until I got more comfortable with key mechanics like parrying. After that, I quickly came around; the combat system's gradual unfolding in God of War is a joy. Though it may feel restrictive at first, before long you are rapidly alternating between all the tools and skills at your disposal, including your fists, Spartan Rage, Leviathan, and more. Cooldown-regulated runic attacks provide a diverse and unique array of special moves, like a freezing beam or a stunning blast, and I had fun experimenting with them and seeing which ones I wanted to cycle into my regular rotation.
You spend experience to unlock cool new techniques, and they aren't just damage or range improvements; several have a significant impact on your options, like Kratos assuming a secondary stance from which additional attacks are possible. I also leaned on Atreus for assistance, since his arrows are crucial for incapacitating many creatures. Some of these concepts are introduced too slowly, but on the other hand, I relished how God of War's battles avoid stagnation through constant evolution.
Underlying all of your combat endeavors is a surprisingly involved gear system that gives you an avenue to customize your arsenal, but also dangles aspirational goals in front of you. Many of your deeds provide materials and equipment as rewards, and like an RPG, you see the numbers next to your stats increase as you build and equip new items. You also see materials you don't have for pieces of gear you want to craft, which adds to the excitement when that item finally drops after finishing a sidequest or beating a tough foe. This layer of upgrading may be less exciting than learning new moves to chop up monsters, but it still provides a powerful incentive to explore.
While not strictly open-world, the game has a large lake with various shores and islands available for free exploration. I loved systematically checking out new locations and acquiring crafting materials, enchantments, and other rewards. These excursions are largely optional, but they are the best way to ensure that you have everything you need for equipment upkeep. As a bonus, these diversions flesh out the world with some interesting NPCs, in addition to offering some fun (but not too challenging) puzzle-like scenarios. They can provide a nice break from the main story, but they're always available, so you don't need to invest in them at the expense of the narrative pacing.
God of War's momentum rarely falters, and when it does, the inconvenience is brief. For example, you have the freedom to explore, but the map isn't especially helpful for tracking your position relative to the things you are interested in, and the fast-travel system is weirdly cumbersome and opens up too late. This is more frustrating if you plan on being thorough with collectibles and post-game objectives (no new game+ this time around), but that didn't dampen my enthusiasm for climbing cliffs and delving into ruins long after the 30 hours I spent finishing the main story.
Years ago, Kratos killed the deities of Mount Olympus in a gory rampage. Now, in the Norse realm, he has remade himself into a different kind of god. He is quieter and more deliberate, affected by his history but not constrained by it. Kratos' reinvention serves as a narrative hook, but it also parallels the series' evolution as a whole; where God of War once relied on bombast and bloodlust, now it leaves space for strategy and nuance. It still has superb action and plenty of jaw-dropping moments, but it supports them with a new level of depth and maturity. God of War learns from its past while clearing an exciting path for the future, and emerges as one of the best games of this generation.
Extinction's David versus Goliath scenario grows old quickly and isn't backed up by anything else.
Building a sense of urgency and putting pressure on the player to complete a task quickly is something video games have achieved across many genres and decades. Minit, a charming top-down adventure reminiscent of classic Zelda titles, takes this concept to an extreme by creatively confining your adventuring to 60-second intervals.
Your main objective is to explore the fascinating monochromatic world as you fight enemies, solve puzzles, and complete quests. However, a timer begins once you pick up a cursed sword. From then on, you're stuck in an infinite loop of death every minute. Though this can seem anxiety-inducing and punishing (especially at first), it becomes addictive as you establish a rhythm to make the most of your short lives.
Because of its focus on steady progression, Minit is rarely frustrating. Various obstacles initially limit your options, but as you steadily collect items to overcome them, you can venture further out. For example, a watering can extinguishes flames, and flippers let you swim. You never lose items when you die, which makes each new acquisition feel like a satisfying checkpoint.
Items are found by completing quests like helping lost hotel guests out of precarious situations, defeating enemies like a group of foes disguised as plants, or by scouring the world. Objects help you enter places that were previously inaccessible, including a desert landscape rife with secrets and a haunted mansion. I enjoy how this formula consistently pushes players into new areas, keeping the journey focused on moving forward.
The top-down combat is simple but fun. Your sword is your sole weapon, but Minit brings impressive puzzle twists to the otherwise straightforward battles. For example, when ambushed by a certain group of foes, you can complete a quest by identifying the weaponless, frightened bandit and sparing him while killing the rest.
With each death, you return to whichever home you last occupied. This brings a fun strategic element to Minit, where you attempt to find the quickest route to your objectives. With death always on the horizon, you're forced to think efficiently and quickly, making each run feel like a puzzle in and of itself.
Exploring the monochromatic world and discovering secrets is a joy. Minit is filled with personality and gags, like a turtle who comically speaks so slowly it requires an entire life to hear him out. Quests are often exploration-based, such as finding a sea monster's lost tentacles or helping a local rebuild his boat so he can bring you to a faraway island. I especially enjoyed the latter, which opened up a new location with its own unique secrets.
Minit is short and sweet. Its clever mechanic doesn't overstay its welcome, but an abrupt ending left me wanting more. Thankfully, a new game+ mode adds increased difficulty and new secrets for dedicated players. With its creative premise, stylish aesthetic, and engrossing progression system, Minit makes racing against the clock a compelling endeavor – even if it means dying a hundred deaths.
The first season of Telltale's Batman did an admirable job creating a version of Gotham unlike any other, with Bruce Wayne carefully managing his relationships with confidantes and would-be friends when he wasn't punching out thugs in alleyways. Though there have been a thousand stories about the origin of Batman, Telltale's emphasis on how choices dictate allies and enemies made this version particularly compelling. Having established this anything-goes version of Batman's world, the second season focuses on his greatest nemesis: the Joker.
This second outing starts off rough, with the Riddler showing up in Gotham city to wreak havoc in a killing spree. He's soon joined by fan favorites Amanda Waller, Harley Quinn, and a host of rogues from Batman's universe. Telltale puts too many moving pieces on the board, and tedious puzzles and ludicrous plot twists (like one involving an undisguised Bruce Wayne having to infiltrate a group of supervillains) made me question whether the set-up would ever pay off.
About midway through the season, something special happens: The majority of puzzles and superfluous plot threads disappear, and the relationship between the Joker (a.k.a. John Doe) and Batman takes center stage. Doe is close to Harley and provides a way to gain her trust. However, he's also mentally unstable, childlike, and desperately wants to to earn your affection and respect. The way my interactions unfolded with the clown prince made it feel like this relationship was a living thing, constantly taking new shape, wriggling just beyond my control thanks to Doe's unpredictable reactions.
At its core, The Enemy Within is a series of ethical dilemmas centered on friendship, and all those scenarios build to something fascinating and explosive. Just who is John Doe to me? Is he my friend? Someone I'm using for my own personal gain? Is he an irredeemable psychopath, or a man who can use his talents to fight for the greater good? These questions are all Joker-centric concepts that the Batman comics have tackled before, but The Enemy Within shines because it puts us in control of sculpting this iconic character.
Telltale has received plenty of earned criticism over the years regarding choices with too little impact, with series that effectively end in the same way no matter what players do. The Enemy Within upends that. Depending on your interactions with Doe throughout the series, his eventual transformation serves as a catalyst for the finale, with two radically different Jokers that lead to separate (yet equally satisfying) conclusions. The final episode in the series completely changes, with unique episodes telling completely different stories depending on whether or not Joker has joined you as a vigilante or become your nemesis. Both of those paths end whatever side you've chosen with thrilling (and heartbreaking) finales that perfectly cap off your adventure through Gotham.
For my part, I felt torn. I tried to serve Gotham, but I also saw John Doe as a person. I wanted to believe he could be good, not just because that would be an interesting twist, but because the Doe's characterization and dialog is so well done that I was sympathetic to him at all times. Bruce and John also have a buddy-comedy chemistry, with Doe often wide-eyed and making goofy jokes that provide stark contrast to Bruce's stoic nature.
The second season's writing has a surprising amount of craft behind it. I felt like every decision I made was a poor one, but I wasn't forced into that box in an artificial way. Bruce and John are two people who find themselves in an awful situation. They have different needs from one another and from society as a whole, and what emerges from that combination is disastrous and heart-wrenching, but also compelling.
Beyond superb storytelling, the more traditionally gamey (and often criticized) elements of Telltale's oeuvre also improve with that halfway point story switch. The puzzles all but disappear, and the quick-time combat scenes have an enjoyable level of creativity, with brutality backed by convincing sound design. These improvements help the story jet along at a nice pacing toward end, refusing to let any obstacle stand between you and the unfolding story.
Despite a flawed start, The Enemy Within emerges as one of Telltale's best series and one of my favorite narrative-focused games in years. It goes all-in on allowing players to shape the intricacies of Joker and Bruce's relationship, and it pays off marvelously. As the game sped toward its memorable and beautiful conclusion(s), I couldn't help but just think how smart the series was, manipulating my emotions much in the same way I had manipulated John. As the credits rolled on my second playthrough, I still felt a lingering desire to dive back in from the beginning, not to see if any of new choices would dramatically shift the story but instead to experience this powerfully told story one last time.
Note: This review is an overview of all five episodes of Batman: The Enemy Within. You can read individual episode breakdown here:
Episode 1: The Enigma Episode 2: The PactEpisode 3: Fractured MaskEpisode 4: What Ails YouEpisode 5: Same Stitch
The boo-birds come out when perennial all-stars are ice cold in the opening months of the season. Fans believe these players didn't take care of themselves in the offseason, and treated spring training like a vacation. In reality, April's frigid weather and windy conditions impact player abilities and limit the flight of the ball. As the weather heats up, so do these players.MLB The Show 18 is the video game equivalent of the slow starter. Online performance issues have become an unwanted annualized feature – so much so that Sony made online infrastructure a central focus of development this year. In previous years, Sony has patched up or stabilized the online experience as the season progressed. This year, the development team didn't want the online experience to start out cold, but achieving this goal meant difficult cuts.In prioritizing new technology, Sony was forced to remove online franchise from this year's game. Offline season mode is also oddly absent. These are two huge avenues of play that delivered different experiences for people – whether it's shortening up a season for a breezier path to the playoffs or spending significant time battling friends for the pennant. Both are gone.
Did the cuts pay off? As of this writing, MLB The Show 18's online performance has not improved over previous years. It may even be worse. Along with intermittent latency issues on the field, which can lead to players running past balls or pitches accidentally served up as meat, all online avenues of play are subject to inexplicable loss of progress. A productive morning of playing Battle Royale ended with my experience points and Stubs disappearing, never to return. On another day, I couldn't locate some cards I purchased with Stubs, and wasn't reimbursed for them. Servers are also occasionally down during peak hours, and not just for maintenance.Stability isn't the only frustrating element of online. As much as I love seeing legendary players like Vida Blue taking on Babe Ruth, the means to obtaining these players is comical. To unlock the best version of Jackie Robinson, I need to get Chase Utley's program souvenir, another program that isn't even in the game yet and is listed as "coming soon," exchange dozens of hats and jerseys, tally 10 hits with a different version of Jackie Robinson ONLY on April 15, and/or perform a bunch of other crazy tasks. Getting immortal or diamond-rank players in The Show has always been a lengthy process, but it's out of control this year.Opening a pack of cards to find hats, jerseys, bobble heads, and other unwanted things just strips away the chance of getting a player you can actually use in play. The images on the cards are also showing age. Tommy La Stella is pictured on the Braves, a team he hasn't played for since 2014. Many players just have silhouettes as images.
The Show's troubles are mostly contained to just the online component. As usual, Sony has refined the action on the field, which is better than ever this year. New ball physics lead to a wider variety of hits and bounces, and players react to situations in more realistic ways – such as a batter holding up in the batter's box for a brief second to see if a ball is slicing foul, or a catcher pouncing on a squibber or blocking a ball in the dirt. Catchers get out of stance much faster and can't be exploited as easily. Fielders are more aware of the runners and apply more authentic tags, depending on how the runner moves. Opponent A.I. is also much savvier, using more shifts and deploying different bullpen and hitting strategies for specific situations. I lost a game to a suicide squeeze in the ninth inning.The flow of the game is also enhanced with a wider variety of shots of fans, the stadium, coaches, and players. Full-motion replays also add to the broadcast presentation, even though Mark DeRosa's color commentary is frequently repeated or too generalized. The control you have over the action is largely unchanged, but you get a better insight into what went wrong with your swing through the redesigned feedback system. The revamped ball physics lead to more hit types and player reactions, but I saw an unusual number of balls bobbled and dropped.
Pikachu was never intended to be the face of Pokémon, but thanks to the popular show, the adorable little electric mouse became the default mascot for the franchise. This critter also wiggled his way into my heart; despite the hundreds of unique pocket monsters Game Freak has created over the years, Pikachu remains one of my favorite travel companions. But none of our adventures have ever looked like this. This version of Pikachu wears an adorable deerstalker hat, talks in a gruff voice, and has the attitude of a noir detective. Somehow, this odd combination makes Pikachu more endearing than ever. The coffee-obsessed sourpuss is a welcome companion during an otherwise-average adventure.
You take on the role of Tim Goodman, the son of an acclaimed detective who was investigating a rash of violent Pokémon outbursts across Ryme City. After Tim's father goes missing, Tim partners up with Pikachu and the new gumshoes hunt for clues that lead them to the bottom of the disappearance. The larger mystery is surprisingly serious, but I was rarely invested in the overall narrative – and you can see the main twist coming a mile away.
Fortunately, the shenanigans I got into with Pikachu along the way were far more memorable than the overarching story. I liked watching Tim and Pikachu bond over their love for black coffee, and laughed when Tim mistook Detective Pikachu for a "normal," non-talking Pikachu. The title character also has a lot of lovable personality quirks – he can't resist sweets and gets excited when he hears his own echo in a cave. I found it endlessly charming to watch one of the most adorable characters in gaming talk like a gruff, middle-aged man while pacing the room with his hand on his chin. At any point in the game, you can touch Pikachu's portrait on the 3DS's touchscreen to see what Pikachu is thinking, and I often spammed that button because I was fascinated to see what he would do next.
The fact that Pikachu is so engrossing is fortunate, because the actual puzzles leave a lot to be desired. Each chapter contains its own mini-mystery that might have Tim and Pikachu recovering a missing neckless, saving a stranded Pokémon, and investigating the nefarious inner workings of a chemical research company. During each mystery, you gather clues by talking to bystanders and examining your environment. Once you've collected all the clues for each area, you interact with an incredibly simple matching game where you pair the mystery with a solution and then back up your claim with the supporting evidence you've gathered.
Finding these solutions requires no thought or effort; even if you didn't pay attention when talking to people, selecting the correct answers is easy thanks to brief summaries in your notes. Pikachu also holds your hand through this process and nudges you in the right direction. Even when you make a wrong guess, he tells you to try again, so failing is impossible. This makes the stakes incredibly low, and as a result, provides little satisfaction when you arrive at the solution.
Despite its title, Detective Pikachu isn't for people who like a good mystery. Its larger narrative isn't sophisticated, and I felt like I was just going through the motions to solve the smaller mysteries along the way. Even so, Pikachu made a delightful Watson to my Holmes, full of genuine charm and laughs. I enjoyed exploring this Pokémon-filled world with a surly Pikachu so much that I almost didn't care how we filled our time.
Telltale's second season of Batman has a had a lot of moving pieces. The Riddler. Catwoman's return to Gotham. Amanda Waller and Jim Gordon's fight for control. Harley Quinn's supergroup of villains and their mysterious intentions. At the center of it all, the crux of this story has been Batman and the Joker. If the first season was an origin story for Bruce Wayne and his alter ego, then the second is an origin story for his greatest nemesis. Telltale goes all-in on the relationship in the most spectacular fashion, culminating in a fantastic episode that carries the heavy weight of tragedy and made me feel like my choices mattered.
Same Stitch is effectively two episodes in one – an unprecedented move in Telltale's adventure catalogue. Depending on your choices throughout the series, John Doe (a.k.a. the Joker) either becomes a vigilante to fight alongside of you, or he adopts the classic villain persona. These two paths create different stories for episode 5. And when I say "different," I don't mean minor changes; they are radically separate experiences with unique plots and themes. Somehow, they are equally satisfying.
The vigilante path finds you and Joker squaring off against Amanda Waller as she pursues the clown prince of..uh…do-goodness after the explosive events of the previous episode. Layering plot twist within plot twist, this episode also takes chances with Telltale's version of Gotham. Bruce and the Joker make jokes with one another, bond, and fight rows of thugs as the Joker squeals happily when he gets to sit in the seat of the Batmobile. However, vigilante Joker still retains some of the menace and the insanity that makes him so memorable, like when he barks at Waller for threatening Batman. It's a well-balanced act that ends with a barrage of sequences that filled me with dread and wonder, including one lingering shot that's both grotesque and elegant.
The villain path pits you against an evil, cackling Joker looking to torment Bruce and Gotham for slights against him. While this might sound more boring than vigilante path, Telltale make sure the things that made John Doe so interesting, like his whimpering monologues and his desperate need for Bruce's friendship, remain in this version of the story. The Joker is still evil, but he sees his villainy as an exercise to earn Bruce's love, resulting in a twisted (and violent) game of cat and mouse. Several scenes indict your choices throughout the series without being clumsy about it. One of my favorites is a tense sequence in a dining room involving a game of Never Have I Ever. I won't say more than that, but as a whole, the villain path is diabolical and ends with a devastating, explosive showdown.
Both versions of Same Stitch assault you in effective ways over your treatment of the Joker throughout the series. The Batman mythos has often presented the idea that Batman himself is responsible for bringing all the lunatics to Gotham city, which in turn makes his crusade a failure from the start – a rich boy's hobby that makes everything worse. Same Stitch spins on that axis, critiquing Batman just as much as it celebrates him, resulting in a work that feels just as smart as it is earnest.
Not only are these episodes strong on their storytelling merits, but the criticisms often applied to Telltale games have been ironed out. No tedious puzzles or barriers exist between you and this well-paced story. The action sequences are still quick-time events, but they're also choreographed well. Every encounter is laced with energy and creativity, like a deadly knife ballet with Joker, or throwing Harley through a tea party.
The finale of Batman: Enemy Within is a joy any way you cut it. I was on the edge of my seat during both paths, wondering what would happen next, feeling both dread and excitement all the way until the credits rolled. The episode drops some hints that Telltale isn't done with Batman yet, but if the series continues, topping the beauty and brilliance of this finale will be difficult.
After targeting tin-pot dictators and megalomaniacs across the globe, Far Cry 5 sets its sights closer to home. This entry moves the open-world mayhem to Hope County, Montana – a beautiful base of operations for outdoorspeople, rugged individualists, and a murderous death cult. It's also a playground for the explosive antics that we've come to expect from the series, where you and a friend can seamlessly go from taking down an armed convoy to bow hunting to fly fishing – or flying a plane – depending on what sounds fun. Once the luster of the new setting and co-op companionship wears thin, however, you're left with an experience that's familiar to a fault.
Hope County has been overrun by Joseph Seed, leader of an apocalyptic cult called Project at Eden's Gate. A disastrous raid on Joseph's compound leaves your created character, a rookie sheriff's deputy, alone and outnumbered in a hostile environment. The setup is interesting, but soon settles into a standard routine. Your job is to clear out the Peggies (the local slur for the cultists) by any means necessary – most of which boils down to reclaiming outposts and taking on missions for the locals. Joseph has a lot of land to cover, and he's a master at delegating. His church heralds include the charismatic John Seed; hunter of man Jacob Seed; and psy-ops hippie Faith Seed. These three walking archetypes have little consistency between them apart from their last names.
Far Cry 5 isn't as provocative as its posturing may lead you to believe. Its exploration of religious extremism is too bizarre to be taken seriously, and it's delivered with a self-serious tone that it doesn't earn. You get knocked out, abducted, and tied to a chair a ridiculous number of times. Since your character is mute and can't (or won't) engage in conversation, you end up with extended scenes where vamping bad guys talk at your immobilized form and over-explain their half-baked philosophies. Some moments attempt to subvert your expectations, but they're generally limp commentaries along the lines of saying, "Ah, yes, but have you considered that YOU are the real villain here?"
The story doesn't offer many big surprises or payoffs, and the same can be said for the gameplay. It's competent on most fronts, providing a massive world to explore and an arsenal of destructive tools, but it doesn't feel fresh. Taking down outposts doesn't provide any new thrills or challenges, and new items like proximity bombs don't open up encounters. Past games introduced strategy and light puzzle elements as you were rewarded for staking out these camps and figuring out how to take advantage of their weak spots. The Peggies seem more interested in maintaining their human flock than setting up decent defenses. They all follow the same basic setup: A couple of guys are on roofs, one or two have set up shop by the alarms, and a handful of bearded weirdos linger near the explosive barrels. You're certainly welcome to scout the bases and direct your A.I. companions to help you remain undetected, but going in with guns blazing is just as effective and definitely more efficient. You may miss out on a few cash bonuses, but I was generally flush throughout the game and at no point felt like I was missing out. Vignettes showing former residents reclaiming each outpost are satisfying, but getting to those points isn't particularly gratifying.
Ubisoft Montreal does break from past games in a couple of major ways. First, your deputy doesn't reveal the world around them by climbing towers to get a better view. Instead, you remove the fog on your map by doing missions and finding maps scattered in ranger stations and other structures. Environmental puzzles are still here in the form of lucrative prepper caches, which are one of my favorite parts of Far Cry 5. Each one offers a unique challenge, which can include escaping a trapped bunker or navigating a mountain obstacle course, with big rewards at the end of each one. I got excited every time an NPC conversation put a new cache icon on my map.
The second major break from tradition is a decreased focus on hunting; animal pelts are only redeemable for cash, and are no longer associated with crafting. I enjoyed the survival aspect from past games, as silly as it was, and it felt strange to see a previously important part of the series fall to the side like that. Instead of using skins to build holsters and ammo pouches, now you invest points in upgrades as you see fit. The game is generous with the points, which you earn through mission progression and challenges, and it's easy to prioritize abilities to how you like to play. For instance, if you prefer diving into fast-travel locations from the air instead of spawning on the ground, you can choose to do that. Or you can prioritize potions, making it easier to find the required components and reduce their cost. You will be able to pick up most, if not all, of these perks along the way, so it doesn't matter too much in the long run.
Dismantling Jacob Seed's operations could be downright tedious if not for one of the game's most fleshed-out systems. The Guns for Hire, A.I. companions that you recruit to fight alongside you, add some much-needed variety to the game. There are nine of them to find in the world, and you have to complete a special mission to convince them to tag along. It's generally worth it. You can bring two of them on your adventures in the solo game, and finding effective combos is part of the fun. Feel like being stealthy? Bring Grace, a sniper, and a tamed cougar named Peaches. Would you rather go a little crazy? Put Hurk (and his RPG) in your crew. Each companion brings something special to the table, too, such as dog Boomer's ability to automatically mark targets for you. It makes playing solo feel less lonely, and I got a kick out of experimenting with different pairings. The best pairing is with another player, however, and that's where the game shines.
For the first time in the Far Cry series, you can play through the entire campaign in co-op. Having a second player around makes the game significantly more entertaining (even if the difficulty balance seems tailored for one), and exploring the playground together is a blast. I had a great time tormenting my partner, whether I was luring him under beehives, blowing up dynamite inside our plane, or rigging his car with explosives. Players are tethered together, so you can't freely roam around the entire world independently, but it's a generously long leash. It was never an issue during my time with the game, aside from a few times when I hopped in a plane and took off before my partner could join me in the cockpit. The scripted tasks can feel like chore lists, but players who enjoy messing around with systems can find plenty to love. It's worth noting that you'll need to find a charitable partner, since only the host's mission and world progress is saved. Your buddy will keep their character progression and inventory, but they'll have to repeat everything else on their own game.
The experience isn't necessarily about beelining through the critical path, however. If you don't take the time to talk to NPCs, you miss out on a wealth of side missions, which are generally more interesting than being talked at for the Nth time by one of the Seeds. Still, Far Cry 5 doesn't deliver on exploring the lives of people who live in this Red-Dawn-meets-David-Koresh nightmare. You can read notes that outline some of the challenges the characters have faced, but the tragedy isn't typically explored through gameplay. Instead, you're asked to chase down baseball cards for a former player who is sad, or harvest bull testicles for a picnic. Those moments of levity are especially jarring when you routinely drive past corpses that have been hung from bridges or strung up in grotesque effigies. "I guess I can help you catch that lunker, ma'am, but have you noticed that your neighbors have been crucified?"
Public executions aside, Far Cry 5's world is meticulously constructed, and it's a remarkable facsimile of Big Sky Country. Unfortunately, too much of the action in it is uninspired. It's a beautiful but bland recitation of what's come before, from both the series and Ubisoft's open-world playbook. It's never bad, but considering how great the past games have been, its overall predictability is disappointing.
Sea of Thieves is like the kiddy-pool at the waterpark. They're both pirate-themed, they both feature fun activities improved by having friends with you, and they're both shallow in the interest of keeping things entertaining without being dangerous. The stories Sea of Thieves gifts you and your crew are jubilant and silly, but many elements of the experience left me wanting, even when it delivered on the pirate life.
From the beginning, developer Rare has pitched Sea of Thieves as a pirate simulator, and its execution on the core idea is impressive. It lets you manage and sail a ship on the ocean, find hidden treasure, pillage, and drink grog until you stumble and puke all over the bar. Participating in these scenarios with friends is where the game shines. Working together to steer the ship, land on an island, and dig up treasure is incredibly satisfying and almost always leads to laughs, regardless of whether you're successful.
Nearly every play session results in a story, whether you are suddenly ambushed by a kraken while trying to deliver a treasure chest, or your friend who always screws everything up crashes the boat into the dock and sinks your ship. These moments are joyful, and show Rare has succeeded in manufacturing a digital playground that is fun to explore.
Digging deeper in Sea of Thieves' assorted tasks, however, reveals the long-term game doesn't offer much incentive to keep playing. You level up your reputation by completing assignments for the three trading companies which each offer different types of missions. The reward for completion is the opportunity to take on increasingly complicated tasks. The Gold Hoarders, for example, start you with "X marks the spot" maps, but you graduate to full rhyming riddles that require counting paces from landmarks. These offer the most worthwhile rewards in the game, but it ultimately feels moot considering what you can do with your money.
Sea of Thieves' various systems make the experience a double-edged cutlass. Every purchasable item is cosmetic and expensive, which keeps the playing field level, but also means you don't have anything worthwhile or enticing to save up for. Plus, Rare has leaned so hard into the pirate theme that none of the outfits, weapons, or items look cool or distinct. They all just feel… piratey. Rare has confirmed microtransactions are coming to the game eventually, but paying real money for items won't make them any more enticing.
You won't find much in the way of a tutorial, which is great for onboarding your friends who just want to start playing with you as soon as possible, but it also means you might be chasing pigs around an island for an hour without figuring out how to catch them. Attacking other players in the open world is exciting, representative of the pirate life, and often hilarious. However, when you and one friend have been working together for an hour to collect multiple chests and a group of four kills you right in front of the redemption point and steals your booty, it is infuriating.
Locking your crew into groups of two, three, and four from the outset fosters comradery and commitment, but adding a friend in the middle of a session is complicated, which goes against the social nature of the game. Combat and shooting shies away from complexity in order to keep it fun for all skill levels, but it feels bland as a result. In most cases, I understand the logic behind these mechanics, like having ship-sailing be a hands-on process to keep everyone communicating and engaged, but it doesn't always make the pirate-life more fun.
Sea of Thieves' highs are high. Hearing the clank of your shovel against a chest as you dig feels great, and physically carrying it to the goal is emotionally rewarding (even if it isn't monetarily rewarding). Exploring the ocean while playing music together with co-op partners on your boat is silly and fun, and watching the sun rise from the bow of your ship as you carry your spoils home is a novel experience. The core mechanics of an innovative co-op journey can be found here, but the carrot being held out in front your ship is unfortunately small and unappetizing.
A Way Out must be played with a partner in crime, creating cooperation, antagonism, and communication between the game's two characters, Leo and Vincent. Fugitives on the run, the pair confront a wide gamut of experiences, bringing them together both in the shared purpose of revenge and even in understanding. That the game creates a connection between the characters, and to a lesser extent the players as well, is a measure of success, but that doesn't mean the title always hits its intended mark.
In their attempt to break out of jail and track down the man who has done them both wrong, Leo and Vincent are bonded in spirit and in gameplay. A Way Out often divides into splitscreen (vertical and horizontal) to show both players what their characters are doing, letting each person move around and act freely simultaneously. Apart from some occasionally hard-to-hear audio mixing when there are two different conversations occurring at the same time, the screen system works well. It's not distracting to watch both screens at once if necessary, and the switch to a single screen is also effective.
The ultimate expression of this co-op vision is the game's hospital scene, which unfolds in a cinematic single cut that follows both men as they simultaneously evade the police in different parts of the building. The action is not boring visually or physically, and you're focused even when the game camera wipes over to the trouble your comrade is in.
Unfortunately, swaths of the gameplay in the title are less absorbing, consisting of simple button presses or mashing that don't always match the possible excitement of what's going on. During the jailbreak sequences, for instance, the gameplay and tension of the moment don't always match up effectively. Leo and Vincent often have to work together, but the gameplay doesn't do justice to the title's central component: the characters' solid bond. Moving dumpsters, boosting your partner to a ledge, and performing simple R2 button presses isn't interesting as the game progresses.
Hazelight introduces some co-op-focused side activities in the world, from a Pong-like arcade cabinet called Grenade Brothers to darts, baseball, and arm wrestling. But they aren't that engaging, and they slacken the narrative tension rather than fleshing out the world. You can press square to screw in a lightbulb in a barn, but that doesn't make the game better.
I enjoyed the way Leo and Vincent's journey ended, as it fits the characters and the co-op format. But even with all they go through from robberies, torture, and family interludes, I wasn't attached to their relationship. Hothead Leo is endearing and well voice-acted, but Leo and Vincent don't have the bond-through-banter that Uncharted characters might, for example. It's fitting that a relationship born of the need to escape prison and defeat a shared enemy comes off as one of convenience that's not strengthened even through gameplay. While A Way Out is not a choice-based game per se, the fact that the decision points that are supposed to encapsulate each character's worldview don't actually have repercussive effects in the world (you end up at the same places no matter what) or affect the pair's relationship only dulls their identity.
A Way Out's co-op vision is a bold choice that works because it uncompromisingly places players in a co-op context, joining them onscreen and off. But given the weakness of the gameplay at times, perhaps the game isn't bold enough.
Sam Barlow's previous game, Her Story, channels the appeal of older technology
to tell an enriching mystery, his latest effort stokes more current anxieties.
#WarGames touches on the modern surveillance state, our vulnerability to being
exposed online, and the veracity of news media. But while its premise and
approach to cinematic storytelling are intriguing, its storytelling lacks the
punch necessary to build on its novelty.
does a good job of making you feel like a voyeuristic hacker. The story plays
out through an interface of shifting video feeds of characters' webcams and
phones, as well as security feeds, Twitter pages, and more. You can highlight a
specific feed to enlarge it, letting you pick up on a few minor character
moments you might otherwise miss. You can also alter the story depending on
which feeds you focus on, but shifting to a specific character's video didn't
make me feel like an active participant in the story. Instead, I felt like a
moviegoer who had to do a little extra work to get the full picture.
multi-screen approach to storytelling puts a large emphasis on characters,
which #WarGames falters on as often as it succeeds. The story follows Kelly
"L1ghtman" Grant, one part of the hobbyist hacker crew "#WarGames," who enjoys
screwing with celebrities and uploading viral videos exposing them. When Kelly
sees a misleading report on the news accusing her now-deceased veteran mother
of treason, however, she and the #WarGames crew start tackling more personal
Jess Nurse does a great job of bringing Kelly to life, and she quickly won me
over. Many of the secondary characters,
such as bratty schoolkid Zane or mother-of-two Torch, are hit-or-miss; awkward
lines and overeager deliveries reminded me more of a budget TV series than a
blockbuster film. This is clearly Kelly's story, but you don't get enough
screen time with anyone else for them to develop. Still, the interactions
between #WarGames, their allies, and their targets lead to some fun moments,
especially as the action ramps up during a couple of heists.
plot also draws parallels to real-world events, such as the controversy
surrounding U.S. Army soldier Bowe Bergdahl, the circulation of US weapons to
war-torn countries, and the doxxing and exposing of high-profile celebrities.
These are all fascinating threads to pull on, and the story is at its best when
it explores their implications. But the plot only skims their surface, leading
to a bland story that stifles its message and ends on a disappointing
can go back through the season once you've finished all six episodes, but there
isn't much reason to. The additional scenes you unlock by focusing on different
screens don't justify multiple playthroughs. You might learn a thing or two
about different characters, but you can't meaningfully alter the course of the
biggest difference I encountered comes when the #WarGames crew tries to sneak
into a target's hotel room. On my first playthrough, Kelly acted as a diversion
by confronting the target head-on long enough for her boyfriend Rafi to get in
and out of the room undetected. The second time, Zane was able to activate the
sprinklers, forcing everyone out of the building and letting Rafi get away.
Most other differences, however, are negligible.
#WarGames' TV-style
branding suggests a second season might soon emerge, but I'm not invested in
seeing it continue at this point. It has potential as an experiment in
interactive storytelling, but it's going to take better acting, more meaningful
choices, and meatier subject matter to keep me on board.
Vermintide 2 shamelessly wears its influences on its sleeve. A love letter to both Left 4 Dead and Diablo, the game casts you as a party of characters fending off an invading army of rat-men (called Skaven), orcs, and all sorts of nasty beasts that want to tear the world to shreds. While that pitch might sound generic, strong multiplayer systems and enjoyable combat make Vermintide 2 a blast as long as you're playing with other people.
After a short prologue, you pick your hero. Each one is essentially a class, and all of them fall squarely within fantasy tropes; the dwarf swings a big axe, and the elf snipes foes from afar with her bow. However, all the characters have well-defined personalities, and the exchanges between them as you roam the levels of Vermintide 2 are amusing as they bicker, comfort, and even compliment one another.
Each hero's skills are unique and make the different classes feel distinct, even if you are mostly just chopping your way through hordes of monsters. My personal favorite is Kerillian, the dual-blade wielding elf who also regenerates health and fires homing arrows that can do massive damage. I also like jumping between the Battle Wizard, capable of showering foes in disintegrating flames, and the pistol-wielding Witch Hunter Captain.
Each character also has two subclasses, giving you ample opportunity to develop your style of play further. My Kerillian flirted with being a close-quarters, stealthy character capable of stalking foes to deliver devastating backstabs. However, I didn't care for that playstyle, so I switched back to her original focus on archery. Vermintide 2 offers enough flexibility and variety here for most players to find a character they'll like.
Vermintide 2 has a large stack of levels, all of them taking about half an hour to finish, with the goal being to get from one end to the other to accomplish some objective. Sometimes that means freeing prisoners from cages, while other times it's solving a puzzle or taking on a boss. Every environment is varied and pleasing to the eye, so I never felt like I was doing the same thing over and over again. My favorite section took place in a destroyed village on a mountainside, with parts of houses and interiors being suspended over a great chasm.
At the end of each level, you earn a set amount of experience (even if you fail, which is nice), as well as a lootbox. Vermintide 2 has no microtransactions, but the lootboxes contain random pieces of equipment. You can upgrade the the quality of loot with tomes and grimoires, which boosts your stats and damage-dealing properties. However, the objects need to be carried to the end of a stage, and they make the game harder (like cutting down everyone's health bar). This creates a satisfying metagame of risk and reward for players who want to play levels over and over to earn the best loot.
The combat is satisfying enough to kill the boredom of repetition from doing these levels repeatedly. The bodies of your foes fall realistically and gruesomely, with sideway slashes tearing apart limbs and heads, and you can almost feel the thunk of an axe as it splits a rat in half. When hit by fire, enemies screech and turn to a pile of ash. Occasionally, you have the horde of weak enemies descend upon you, and if you're together as a group, it's easy to cut through them and create this disgusting (but highly entertaining) blender effect with bodies and blood flying in every direction.
Vermintide 2 is a hell of a time, especially if you've got a dedicated group. You can play with random players and still have a great time, as the lootbox design of the game rewards players for working together and teaching one another how to play, but Vermintide 2 shines the most when you're working with a skilled team who know where all the secret items are and have strategies ready to go to take down the nasty bosses. In these moments, the game goes from being a fun, dumb romp to a thrilling experience that requires tactics and cooperation to earn your party a victory.
However, the intensity of the matches can be thrown off by wonky difficulty scaling. Bosses are the biggest problem. In every level, there's a chance you'll encounter one or more bosses. Sometimes it's a bullet-sponge creature that deals heavy damage; other times it's a fragile monster that's capable of downing you in a single hit. One of them is particularly nasty: the Spawn of Chaos. This monster not only has a ton of health and takes little damage, but is also capable of grabbing one of your party to feast on them and recover health. While it's fun and intense to scream panicked orders and pleas, the game has a habit of stacking the odds against you in a frustrating manner.
Unlike the Director A.I. technology that made Left 4 Dead's dramatic boss fights feel well-placed and satisfying, Vermintide 2's equivalent is more random. One time, my party used up all our potions and supplies defeating a Spawn of Chaos, only to turn a corner and find another one waiting to kill us. Another time, we proceeded through a level and didn't fight a boss at all. The randomness felt more like it detracted from my experience than added to it, with a number of my matches coming to an end that felt unfair.
Even more disappointing than that lack of balance is the lack of consideration for those who want to face the Skaven alone. Vermintide 2 has bots that take the place of your fellow players, which is useful if you only need one to help draw away the horde. But playing with a full set of bots is not recommended. They're just not smart, and are often incapable of being there when needed. You can probably get through earlier levels with them but in the harder stages, you essentially need other players to help you.
Vermintide 2s's co-op delights are gruesome fun, especially if you have a dedicated group of friends to take on the horde of monsters and level up your characters. The bloody thrills of working with fellow players to shred entire armies of foes into meat makes this grisly battlefield surprisingly fun (if unsettling) place to spend time.
No government is perfect. While many idealistic concepts give birth to new nations, the implementation of those ideas usually strays from the intent – and yet, governments can succeed and thrive despite their imperfection. Ni no Kuni II: Revenant Kingdom is the same. It chronicles the monarchy of King Evan with an ambitious framework that includes elements of traditional role-playing, city-building, and real-time strategy – which all sounds amazing in theory. In reality, these concepts fall short in their execution and leave the game's full potential conspicuously unrealized, but those missed opportunities don't prevent it from being charming or entertaining.
Ni no Kuni II is a brand new story, and doesn't require any familiarity with the first game. It follows Evan, a young ruler forced to leave his homeland and start a new kingdom from scratch. I can't exactly say that the narrative is bad, but the straightforward fairy tale doesn't go anywhere interesting. Evan wants to create a world without war, so he sets off to unite the other kingdoms one by one. You collect a handful of archetypical party members along the way, but after their initial introductions, they fade into the background and stop playing any notable role in events. Because of this, most characters never grow; you know everything you're going to learn about the smart and confident sky-pirate princess as soon as she joins your party early on. This means advancing a lot of dull text-box conversations that don't convey much in terms of personality (due to sparse use of voiced dialogue and full-fledged cutscenes), and cast members who feel like interchangeable cardboard cut-outs.
Though the story didn't keep me interested, the gameplay propelled me forward due thanks to a clever kingdom-building system. Your realm, Evermore, starts as a meager encampment and grows into a sprawling city as you upgrade abilities, recruit specialists, and build structures like farms and shops. The brilliance here is how Evermore functions as your primary progression system. If you want better armor, upgrade the outfitters. If you want better items, invest in the general store. You can also research passive buffs that improve your experience gains or help you expand Evermore more efficiently. I was completely hooked on this loop; I loved chasing down sidequests that lured new residents that my kingdom. This gives you new research and construction options, and the abundance of available tasks always provides something enticing to pursue. Plus, I like how currency and items accrue in the background as time passes, so no matter what you do (even if you're just standing idle), you're making progress.
With things like weapon development and spell upgrades, much of what you accomplish in your kingdom funnels into combat. Battles are fluid and action-driven, letting you control any party member in real time and take down crowds of monsters with various techniques. The simple system is accessible and fun, but it is also the nexus for the myriad ways in which Ni no Kuni II's ideas need refinement. Fights may be entertaining, but they also don't provide much challenge, so you don't have any incentive to learn its intricacies. For instance, you can craft and level up a vast array of magical helpers called Higgledies to assist you, but you can also get by just fine with a basic set, so the extra effort seems pointless. And despite your ability to upgrade spells, magic isn't more efficient or useful than basic skills, so that endeavor also feels like wasted resources. The optimizer in me still enjoyed digging through my options and mowing down my opponents, but ultimately, my reward was making an already-easy game even easier.
A secondary combat system involves more strategic encounters that have Evan controlling a small army, but this idea feels half-baked. A basic rock-paper-scissor dynamic generally determines victory, so choosing your four units before the encounter carries much more tactical significance than any decision you make on the battlefield. I enjoyed getting new units and bolstering the strength of my forces, but the limited scope and clunky controls of these conflicts hold them back. I enjoyed engaging in these skirmishes occasionally for a change of pace (or to get a new citizen), but they were usually on the bottom of my to-do list.
Ni no Kuni II: Revenant Kingdom may not nail everything it attempts, but it gets the important things right. Building your kingdom is satisfying and engaging, even with the weak narrative hooks. The cycle of rewards became an obsession, and had me staying up late to recruit just one more ally, or complete just one more upgrade. Combat could be tighter, and other supporting elements could use some polish – but like any kingdom, this experience isn't about individual contributions. It's about how those contributions come together, and the fun of this experience as a whole outweighs its flaws.
For better or worse, Kirby is Nintendo's most consistent franchise. New entries come often, and they don't stray too far from the "pretty good" mark in either direction. On that scale of inoffensiveness, Star Allies rests a bit on the low end, offering a bland Kirby experience with few new mechanics.
The premise this time around is evil things are invading Dream Land and Kirby must expel them by grabbing some friends and beating up bad guys. The twist for Star Allies is Kirby can throw hearts at select enemies to add them to his team. It can be played cooperatively with up to three others, but if you play alone, A.I. controls the partners. The game delivers standard-but-unsurprising Kirby action, but the final boss does stand out as a large and interesting finale – though I won't spoil it here.
The option to play with friends is nice, and the Switch's Joy-Con setup makes jumping in and out of cooperative play easy, but the overall design suffers tremendously from the multiplayer options. Having four players makes combat a cakewalk. Kirby and pals steamroll their way through every encounter, and every boss is a breeze. As a series, Kirby titles are generally designed to be friendly to younger players, but when gingerly tapping the attack button without any regard for position or stolen ability is enough to complete any objective, it gets boring. Having A.I. partners makes things ridiculously easy, as they do most of the work; they can even solve puzzles for you before you get a chance to consider the solutions.
The last two mainline 3DS Kirby titles, Triple Deluxe and Planet Robobot, proved Kirby is capable of interesting level design, but Star Allies plays out as a series of flat, horizontal slogs. Apart from a few barrel-blasting sequences (in the style of Donkey Kong Country) and moments where Kirby and his partners roll along as one giant ball, you won't find much to do other than move from left to right.
Star Allies gets credit for a great soundtrack, great controls, and an epic finale. Even if the visuals are the epitome of generic Kirby, they look sharp. HAL delivers a polished Kirby experience here that plays well, but it ultimately amounts to a forgettable adventure that demands so little from the player that I sometimes felt like I was barely involved at all.
Let it never be said that indie developer The Behemoth hasn't carved out its own unique identity thanks to the studios blend of stylish art and offbeat humor. Following on the heels of Castle Crashers and BattleBlock Theater, Pit People channels the exaggerated art style of its predecessors while embracing a more strategic mode of gameplay. The result is a romp of a game that rewards you with hilarious jokes for dominating foes on the battlefield.
Pit People embraces absurdity out of the gate, opening on a blueberry farmer named Horatio fending off cannibals who want to eat his son, Hansel, while the world is showered in green good and a cosmic narrator mocks the farmer. Things only get wackier from there, with Horatio going on a quest to rescue his son after the bear kidnaps him, recruiting a gallery of characters to help out. Though Horatio doesn't have much personality, the crew surrounding him is hilarious and memorable, like Sofia, an explorer who passionately claims every new area you come across in the world "in the name of Spain." You also have a literal cupcake named Gluten to serve as your healer, and the mischievous-yet-loyal cyclops Yosef.
Your quest takes you through an overworld filled with every biome imaginable: deserts, snowy plains, forests, candy mountains, and cities made of circuit boards. Pit People's world doesn't have a unique identity, since more than anything it exists as a series of disparate environments stitched together. But that ultimately works, because it draws attention to Pit People's biggest offerings: zany characters and battles.
The battle system is an odd blend, eschewing a surprising amount of unit control for a hexagonal battlefield where placement rules supreme. You can't specify which enemies your units attack. Instead, you move them within range of enemies, and they attack whatever foe is there. If multiple foes are within that unit's range, then they randomly strike one of them. This lack of control can be frustrating, like when the enemy with a sliver of health remains on the field because your unit attacks the foe next to him, but it also adds a kind of unpredictability that's often missing from strategy games and can have its own rewards. For example, I once meant to shoot an enemy unit with an arrow but instead shot his companion. The companion died and exploded, dealing severe area damage to everyone around him, clinching in one exhilarating moment a battle that was uncertain from the get-go.
At least half of the strategy in Pit People comes from pre-battle preparation. You have a certain number of slots in your party. You obviously want attackers and defenders, but how do you break that up? Do you have an archer for your long-distance attacks? Or a mortar? Do you sacrifice two spaces in your party to make room for a cyclops capable of dealing heavy physical damage? Should you bring a healer even though your units regain health when they level up in battle? Once the encounters start in Pit People, you've already made the important decisions that determine the flow of the fight. Ultimately, I think the uniqueness of this setup makes for a more interesting strategy game, but arriving to a battle and being screwed from the get-go because you don't have the right unit can be frustrating.
If you want to add another element in the mix, you can also play Pit People co-op (local and online), with you and your partner splitting the characters between you. It's a neat feature that adds another dimension to tactical play, but it's not particularly deep or necessary to enjoy Pit People. You can also play battles in the pit, an in-game arena, to earn money to buy goofy cosmetics for your characters and mercenary characters to wage war for you.
The first few fights are surprisingly difficult, as I struggled to get my bearings with the idiosyncratic system and understanding how important preparation was. After the first couple of hours, I started building my army by capturing units during battle (buy the item that lets you do this) and making sure each slot had a character with a defined purpose. Soon I was devising tactics for my units, like using my healer as bait to draw enemies into firing range of my mortar. Figuring out how to manage your units and eventually triumph is immensely satisfying, as are the gags.
Pit People is a ridiculously funny game. If you're fan of Monty Python's wacky brand of humor, you'll feel right at home with the jokes here. Whether it was the mocking and villainous space bear, who acts as the game's narrator, or the whimsical Loki-like Jerkimedes tricking me into slaughtering a retirement home of cupcake people (oops), Pit People had me in stitches. The many sidequests are also hilarious, with several of them functioning as multi-step short stories centered on memorable characters, like Harry the Troll detective, who speaks as though he's reading a gumshoe novel.
Pit People does a lot of things right, but it also has abundance of unnecessary systems that give rise to mild frustration. For example, when you leave your town to go out into the world, you have a limited inventory that you can use to store healing items, recruitment items, and the spoils of battle. If you're completing side quests littered throughout the world, that inventory fills up quickly. And since there's no fast travel to your home, you have to constantly journey back to to your base. This is tedious, especially since the fog of war on the overworld never goes away, meaning you have to constantly check your map to see where you're going. The main quest also has a questionable stealth level that's not insurmountable, but it sure is annoying.
When all is said and done, it's the potential for laughter that proves to be Pit People's standout achievement. The tactical gameplay is interesting and entertaining, but the comedy is the star of the show here. I enjoyed my time with The Behemoth's new, funky world, as well as the cast of lovable characters who inhabit it, and will fondly remember many of its gags for a long time to come.
The first Life is Strange made its mark for showcasing the hardships of life and the parts about us we often hide from the world. The developers' courage to pursue topics like grief and depression authentically is what made the series so special. Before the Storm continues to be brave and bold, presenting difficult situations similar to those we saw in the original. This prequel gives new insight into Chloe, showing her gaining confidence while she struggles with the loss of her father. With Rachel, a character we only heard about in the first game, we now know what was so unique about their connection and have plenty of their moments to cherish. Before the Storm's greatest asset is how it builds a genuine relationship between its two leads, making you root for them and understand what they mean to each other as both their lives fall apart.
The tale takes place two years after the death of Chloe's father (and three years before she reconnects with Max). Chloe is testing her boundaries, sneaking out to concerts, and ditching school. It may be a cry for help, but it's also the best way she can deal with her grief. Enter Rachel, a girl who seems like she has everything: She's popular, gets good grades, and has an ever-present aura of confidence. Rachel is tired of it all, though; even if you seem to have it all, that doesn't mean your life is perfect. The girls find each other at a time when they desperately need someone else to understand their struggles, and it's a great reminder of how listening to someone can go a long way.
Before the Storm's biggest accomplishment is how Deck Nine developed one of the most genuine relationships I've seen displayed between two women in a video game. Since this was only a three-part arc, some episodes seem rushed (especially the finale), but Deck Nine creates a bond and makes you care for Chloe and Rachel as individuals and a pair. The writers also offer plenty of moments to accentuate their connection, from Chloe and Rachel's performance in a play to Rachel's disastrous family dinner with only Chloe there to help her pick up the pieces. Watching Rachel and Chloe's relationship unfold is the core of the experience, but it isn't perfect in its depiction. After knowing each other for only a few days, Chloe and Rachel's relationship progresses at an accelerated rate, but the chemistry is there from the beginning so it doesn't feel completely out of left field.
I also wish we saw more about how they had their falling out from the first game, and how Rachel eventually gets involved with Frank, but I'm also okay that the writers chose to showcase the early blossoming of this beautiful friendship. Before the Storm makes me feel for Chloe more than I ever did, and I now care about Rachel, who was merely an ephemeral, missing girl in the original Life is Strange.
The bulk of the game centers on dialogue choices and some simple puzzles, where you locate items in the environment and put them to use. A new "back talk" option gives you a way to act out as Chloe and talk your way out of situations. This mechanic feels out of place in some instances, as her reactions are so over-the-top, but it becomes toned down as the story goes on.
Unlike Max, Chloe doesn't have supernatural rewind powers, so Before the Storm is grounded in reality. This forces you to own your choices, for better or worse. Your decisions may not completely alter the narrative, but you get little callbacks that make them satisfying, like another round of D&D or seeing that stealing wine actually turned out to be a good thing. The hardest decision comes at the end of the game, and it builds on the themes of growing up and living a facade. The game doesn't judge you for this choice, but it says a lot about your vision for Chloe's character and her relationship with Rachel.
Before the Storm made me care about Chloe and Rachel, giving me backstory into both of their lives before Max comes back. The journey is bittersweet, knowing the tragic events from the first game for both characters. As a prequel, Before the Storm succeeds because it tells its own story that leaves you content, while also connecting to the original game in a meaningful way. Deck Nine may not have a hand in the original, but it made sure to do Chloe and Rachel's story justice, capturing the essence of Life is Strange while providing plenty of nods to fans.
Note: This review is an overview of all three episodes of Life is Strange: Before the Storm. You can read individual episode breakdowns here, here, and here.
The concept of H1Z1 is simple: Hit the ground running, grab
a backpack and whatever weapon is handy, and head to the safe zone while
blowing away 149 opponents. Anything can happen during a match, including
stealthy shootouts from behind crates, getting shot in the back while trying to
cross an open field, and snagging a risky airdrop for some potent weapons and
armor. Variety is the spice of life, and it's also the cornerstone of H1Z1 that
keeps you coming back for more.
The core mode can be played solo, with a friend, or with a
team of five, so you can enjoy the bloody melee without having to worry how
many friends you have around. Making it down to the final circle of play while
dodging airstrikes, bullets, and poison gas is often a thrilling experience, and
you can go from hero to zero with the single crack of a shotgun. Whatever your
skill level, making it to the last moments of a match is fun and frantic, and snack-sized
stories often happen along the way. A player who gives away their location with
proximity voice chat by accident when his mom calls him downstairs for chicken
tenders, the player who just does donuts in a cop car around a warehouse
waiting for someone to come pick a fight, or the jaded sniper waiting for you
on top of the final hill. These are all memorable moments that make a match
interesting and engaging.
The one-life, last-person standing structure creates a high-tension
slaughterhouse that is is the bedrock of H1Z1, but it has other neat modes that
differentiate it from battle royale competitors. One is Combat Zone which lands
players in a small playing field, forcing tons of immediate action for all
participants, and everyone starts fully loaded with a rack of weapons ready to
rock. More importantly, it also allows players to immediately respawn and get
right back into the endless battle.
Combat Zone is an excellent way to get a handle on how
weapons fire, combat tactics, and more in a zero-stress environment. It is the
perfect aperitif if you're a seasoned player looking to practice with certain
weapons, or if you're a new player who wants extra trigger time before stepping
into a mode where the stakes are higher.
Getting behind the wheel in the standard game is a powerful
way to zip around the ever-shifting field of play, but vehicular gameplay is
taken to a new level in the Auto Royale mode where teams are stacked into cars
at the beginning of the game. You can't get out of the vehicles, so your driver
had better be adept at slamming on the nitro boosts, hitting the jump pads, and
plunking down land mines while the rest of the team unloads buckets of ammo at
supply crates and opposing vehicles. If your car goes up in smoke, that's the
end of the match for you. The novelty of Auto Royale is fun for a few rounds
and a nice palate cleanser, but it lacks the compelling gameplay loop of the
core mode and ultimately feels like a tacked-on diversion.
H1Z1 has some cool modes that give it some extra oomph, but
the field of battle royales already has some excellent choices. H1Z1 has a
solid foundation of scavenging, shooting, and surviving, but it needs a little
more vim and vigor to really compete in the battle royale free-for-all.
My biggest problem with side-scrolling brawlers has always been their mindlessness. Even when a few upgrade trees or RPG systems are thrown in to make them more intricate, I can't escape the feeling I'm just mashing the punch button until everyone's dead. Way of the Passive Fist addresses this issue with more mindful combat that wants you to pay close attention in every fight. But while its combat is novel and fun at first, it doesn't lift the experience above some glaring issues.
Rather than punching your way through legions of street thugs, Way of the Passive Fist has you hanging back and watching the movements of the many bandits, robots, and monsters you face as you make your way through a thin, post-apocalyptic plot that serves more as context than a real pull. Your main weapon against your enemies are well-timed parries and dodges, which drain your foes' stamina until they keel over from exhaustion.
Every enemy has their own multi-hit attack strings to memorize, giving combat a rhythmic feel. Once I had learned most of the enemy patterns, I was parrying punches, dodging throws, and returning throwing knives to their senders in a matter of seconds, which made me feel like the center of a well-choreographed action movie fight scene. As you parry attacks you build up a combo meter, giving you access to powered-up moves like charged-up punches and grabs. Saving up these attacks for clusters of enemies or hulking brutes adds a fun strategic layer to all the parrying.
Unfortunately, combat grows stale over time. Though later levels introduce a few new enemy types, they're mostly palette-swapped foes with faster, more difficult attack patterns, which don't do much to stave off how repetitious combat can be. Although it can make for some cool maneuvers, the rhythm-based combat isn't as satisfying as you'd expect; instead of feeling like I'd accomplished some feat of dexterity or skill, I was rewarded simply for paying attention and playing long enough to memorize each enemy's pattern.
Moving around during combat is also a bit of a chore, which causes a few issues. It isn't a constant concern since you and your opponents are usually standing still as you defend against their attacks, but a few levels emphasize deft movements. The side-scrolling view isn't great at relaying whether you can hit an opponent, making for some frustrating situations in which my charged-up punch missed because I wasn't at the right height (which is especially aggravating during boss fights). Positioning causes problems during levels that have you dodging lasers or bombs; if you're in the middle of parrying a string of attacks when you see your cue to dodge, you're probably going to get hit. I also had times when enemies' attacks would overlap with each other, asking me to parry attacks from two sides at once, which is impossible.
One way to mitigate these problems is with difficulty sliders, which let you tailor various gameplay aspects to your liking. After finishing the story mode, I wanted to test my parry reactions but didn't want to deal with health management, so I made it much harder to land parries, but made it health pickups more abundant. This is a smart way to let players learn and experiment, and I like that no content is gated based on difficulty.
A few arcade modes encourage you to replay levels to get high scores and bragging rights, but I felt as if I'd seen everything interesting on my first time through. Enemy encounters don't drastically change between playthroughs, either, and the lack of multiplayer means it lacks the party-friendliness that can liven up subsequent runs.
The rhythm-based combat and malleable difficulty set Way of the Passive Fist apart from most brawlers in an interesting way. But while it starts strong, the combat doesn't carry it over a host of issues. Without other ways to keep players busy it isn't worth going back to after the first unsatisfying playthrough. Way of the Passive Fist offers an interesting alternative to the mash-happy games of the genre's past, but after the novelty wears off, it fails to connect.
In 2000, Kronos Digital and Eidos released a unique anime-inspired
action game called Fear Effect for the original PlayStation. Its slick
presentation, Ghost in the Shell-inspired
world, and mature narrative earned it a cult following. That following had
reason to rejoice when Sushee's Kickstarter campaign promised to bring the
series back. Unfortunately, Fear Effect Sedna could serve as a case study on
everything that can go wrong when resurrecting a franchise.
The original Fear Effect and its prequel were some of the
first games to bring anime-like visuals to life, and their smooth storytelling
helped them stand out. Sedna fails to recapture any of that magic. The generic environments
lack the neon glow and exotic technology that made the original series so
dazzling, while the story is a mess of cringe-inducing dialogue. I didn't know
who the main antagonist was until the final boss fight, and even then, their motivations
were unclear. When the credits rolled, I was left wondering, "What was the
As bad as the story is, things are worse between cutscenes.
Sedna attempts to mix top-down shooting with stealth and strategy, but its
execution is bad in every category. As a top-down shooter, Sedna feels
unresponsive and clunky. During battle, you have the option to pause the action
and issue commands to your party, but the combat isn't built around this type
of strategy. A single attack does little damage, and you don't have a wide
variety of abilities to choose from. This makes the action plodding and
monotonous if you're pausing frequently. Hardcore strategy also isn't necessary
because the A.I. is so stupid. It doggedly locks on to one character and rarely
looks away; I often had that character hide in cover and wait until the rest of
my companions took out the inexplicably fixated enemy.
If you're patient, you can attempt to take out some foes
before they spot you by sneaking up behind with a knife. Most guards have
simple patrol patterns, but your stealth movements are so slow that catching up
with them is difficult. Progressing through areas using stealth is tedious
because you can't hide bodies, and once an enemy discovers a fallen comrade,
they sound an alarm and every enemy in the room rushes toward it. Again, the
A.I. is so simple that they just look at the body for a minute or so and then
return to their patrol patterns, but you have to wait until they're done
examining the body before you can progress. I also had enemies pop up in front
of me as I was trying to sneak through an area, so the stealth option never
felt like a viable tactic.
You encounter a handful of puzzles between gunfights. Most are
a chore to navigate, some boil down to brute force trial-and-error, and others
make no sense within the world's fiction. For example, you have to diffuse a
bomb by cutting the wires that match a series of numbers on posters in
different rooms, but there is never any connection made between the posters and
the bomb. Even worse, sometimes you don't know if you don't understand a
puzzles logic or if you're actually solving it correctly, because bugs prevent
some puzzles from being solved. In one case, I had to restart an entire level
because a puzzle wasn't accepting the correct solution.
Fear Effect Sedna has a handful of other bugs that ruined my
progress as well. At one point, a character got stuck in the stealth position
and would only attack people with a knife. At another, the game just stopped
saving my progress, which was a real problem since there is no manual save
Even diehard fans of the original Fear Effect should stay
away from this mess of broken gameplay, system-breaking bugs, and slapdash
The Station tells a science-fiction story we've all heard before. Earth has lost contact with a crew aboard a space station, and you are sent in to investigate what happened to them. This premise usually reveals flesh-eating aliens, rogue A.I., or astronauts suffering from space madness. However, none of your discoveries made aboard space station Espial are substantial – just cryptic audio recordings and notes that hint at a larger story that never truly unfurls.Following in the footsteps of similar narrative experiences like Gone Home and Tacoma, The Station gives the player little direction, and instead allows for freedom of discovery. The allure here is to take your time, study every inch of The Espial, and get to know the crew by the trail they left behind. Playing the role of an investigator is a satisfying experience, as The Espial feels like a real place, mixing state-of-the-art technologies with ordinary human things. The personalities of the crew emerge from their workplaces and living quarters, such as reading their personal emails, or viewing the photographs hidden in their lockers. You end up feeling more of a connection to each of them than the story you are supposed to be unearthing.While discoveries are made in a nonlinear fashion, some of The Station's best moments are tied to locked doors used to gate progress. These doors often bring puzzles, each challenging you in a different way, whether it's learning a crewmember's security code or figuring out how to awaken a robot. A couple of the solutions are a bit obtuse, but most of these moments either strengthen The Espial as a believable place, or give you a taste of how advanced human technologies are in this vision of the future.
Despite offering an endless tapestry of intriguing tales to draw
from, the events of history remain criminally ignored by video games. Sure,
exotic locations like ancient Egypt and decades-old wars occasionally serve as
flashy backdrops for modern action, but too few games try to convey what life
was really like in a historical time and place. Kingdom Come: Deliverance
eschews the fantasy tropes of other open-world RPGs in favor of the real-life
characters and conflicts of 15th century Bohemia. Unfortunately, the engrossing
feudal adventure awaiting players is brought to its knees by a needlessly
restrictive save system and a litany of game-breaking bugs.
One of the most successful outcomes of Kingdom Come's focus on
realism is the story. Instead of guiding an almighty warrior to predestined
greatness, you play as the unassuming son of a blacksmith whose world is turned
upside-down when an invading army pillages his village. Kingdom Come succeeds
in not only conveying the historical events of its small slice of European
history to the player, but doing so from a peasant's perspective; much of the
political dealings affecting the fate of Henry's home country are entirely out
of his control. The best he can do is serve Sir Radzig Kobyla and a small
council of other Bohemian lords, while hoping their efforts to retain power
intersect with his own thirst for vengeance.
Henry's limited means make Kingdom Come's story feel personal in a
way few games manage, and offer up plenty of meaningful choices and surprises
along the way. Some quests take Henry on hours-long diversions, such as
engaging in drunken reveries with a wayward priest, or entering a monastery
disguised as a monk to track down a reformed bandit. The narrative is far from
perfect (particularly the ending, which feels more like the cheap
tease for a sequel than a thoughtful commentary on Henry's lot in life), but it
kept me going.
Kingdom Come's focus on realism also results in a variety of
intriguing gameplay systems, from the
absurdly in-depth alchemy system to the demanding combat that takes hours to
fully comprehend. Every skill Henry can learn – be it lockpicking, weapon
maintenance, or even reading – offers another rabbit hole to devote his days
to. The perks you earn from progressing are less compelling, as many confer
stat penalties in addition to whatever they're buffing, but I still enjoyed
learning the ins and outs of every activity.
Unfortunately, a few decisions made
in the name of realism frequently drag Henry's adventure to a crawl. Kingdom
Come's save system is downright draconian, requiring you to either drink an
expensive and limited potion (that also makes you drunk), or track down and
sleep in a bed you own just to back up your progress. The fast-travel system,
meanwhile, is a blatant misnomer, as it requires you to watch an icon slowly
travel to the desired location on your map, sometimes for 90 seconds or more.
Waiting and sleeping also require staring idly at a wheel for no discernable
reason, and are longer and more frequent than other RPGs that use the same
convention. Kingdom Come's gameplay is already slow and laborious to begin
with, and these systems add nothing to the experience except pointless
downtime. Kingdom Come is not more challenging or intense or even more realistic
because of these additions. It's just more tedious.
The save system is elevated from
"annoyance" to "fatal flaw" in the wake of the game's ultimate downfall: bugs.
While my first 10 hours or so were relatively issue-free, the further I got,
the more things fell apart. Collision issues left me permanently stuck in
bushes, rocks, and other unstable geometry, requiring save reloads. I
experienced over a half-dozen hard crashes, caused by basic actions like
opening my map, pulling up the quest log, and unsheathing my sword. At one
point the "surrender" prompt became a permanent addition to my HUD, forcing me
to reload. Broken questlines consumed countless hours of progress, and in some
cases compounded each other; I had one mission grind to a halt when an NPC was
unable to sleep in his bed at an inn, because an NPC from a previous broken
questline was still sleeping there. I lost four hours of progress in one
session alone when the game inexplicably disabled saving of any kind.
After logging more than 100 hours
into Kingdom Come, I shudder to think how many more hours I lost to bugs.
Simply put, this is the kind of game where you should be saving every five minutes
to safeguard your progress – except you can't.
Ultimately, Kingdom Come feels a
bit like homework. If the historical setting and focus on realism appeal to
you, then the deep gameplay systems and methodical pace are worth learning. If
you'd rather be a magic-wielding wizard or the unequivocal hero, on the other
hand, the source material will bore you almost instantly. Even if you are as in
love with the premise as I am, however, the countless technical issues Kingdom
Come requires you to suffer through land it in the stockade; until the
developer brews up a comprehensive salve of patches and polish, you should
avoid Henry's adventure like the plague.
Wandering through the countryside, you hear whispers of devastation, unemployment, and dust storms that ravage people's homes. Other moments bring you courage in your tired journey, as you listen to a worker's hopeful song or watch hundreds of butterflies flutter overhead. Whether they're tragic, surreal, or humorous, each of these occasions are just as captivating as the next as you watch them grow into fantastical tales told around a campfire.
Where The Water Tastes Like Wine is an adventure game about sharing stories. After striking a deal with the devil, you're cursed to walk the lands of Depression-era America as a skeleton and collect the tales of its people. Both melancholy and thoughtful, Where The Water Tastes Like Wine paints a fascinating historical picture embellished by folklore, where the population is caught in dire times that cloud the American Dream.
You spend your time walking from state to state visiting small villages and big cities that bustle with life. You can hitchhike or take a train to make travel easier, but this is still a slow-paced experience. That isn't a bad thing; the pacing is a perfect thematic fit, and it makes for a pensive experience that slowly provides twists and turns with every intriguing discovery. You visit rural areas often, finding interactive short stories in old mills, farms, and winding paths. Each takes only a minute or two to complete, telling you a strange tale about a camera that brings death to those it photographs or a simple story about a boy and the bond he shares with his dog.
Every short story you encounter is told with a beautiful illustration, and a gruff narrator helps build the scene. These stories present themselves as tiny text adventures, and as you continue to venture out, they become embellished as word spreads. It's always amusing to see what form an original story takes next and how much further it is from the truth, as though you're playing a game of broken telephone. For example, two men mistaking themselves for brothers later becomes ludicrously misunderstood as eight identical men from eight different mothers falsely believing that they're siblings.
You also have agency in these tales, and a story's direction can change its tone completely. Helping a man find his lost glasses but choosing to steal his wallet in the process, for example, can turn an optimistic story dismal.
The tone of these narratives becomes important when you encounter other travelers and sit by a nighttime campfire with them. This is the crux of Where The Water Tastes Like Wine's gameplay. Your collected stories act as currency in a series of interactions that progressively unfold through different chapters. This is a compelling concept that requires both keen planning and insight. You equip specific stories beforehand, and then during conversation, you choose them from a selection of tarot cards that have themed categories like authority and family.
Every character wants something different, which brings a welcome variety. A young homeless boy abandoned by his family loves action-filled anecdotes, whereas a somber coal miner may prefer a lighter tale to remind him that hope still exists. My only gripe with these tales is that you can't listen to the vignettes again once they're completed, and with over 200 to collect, I sometimes forgot a story's message or tone.
These fireside interactions, however, make up my favorite moments. The goal is to get characters to open up so that you can collect their stories too. They begin to trust you if you tell them the tales they wish to hear. In their ending chapters, characters' illustrations evolve into something symbolic, such as a priest struggling with his faith seen trapped in an angel's headlock. Others, like an African-American Pullman porter facing an identity crisis, is obscured behind crooked branches that hold white masks. I curiously awaited these transformations, eagerly wondering how these gorgeous artworks would portray a person's plight in a creative way.
Though much of Where The Water Tastes Like Wine's focus is storytelling, it also has some light survival mechanics. If you're not careful, you can meet an untimely death by overexerting yourself or letting your health get too low. Certain stories may physically injure you, and hopping a train without paying can leave you beaten by a cop. Accessing train stations in big cities requires cash, which you can acquire from odd jobs or sometimes by luck. Managing these needs and funds is a small but engaging addition, immersing you into the world and adding bigger stakes to decision-making.
Where The Water Tastes Like Wine is a surprisingly beefy adventure game, offering over 20 hours of content and a treasure trove of stories that never cease to entertain. I laughed, reminisced about my own life, and enjoyed meeting the colorful cast of characters who opened up to me as time went on. Whether I was reminding travelers of their worth or offering an ear so they could share their sorrows, I felt as though I brought them peace in an almost spiritual fashion. Like a Grim Reaper collecting souls, I instead collected the essence of short stories, to help others struggling with demons find their way. It makes for not just a captivating experience, but an empowering one I won't soon forget.
Metal Gear Survive is the first entry since Konami and series creator Hideo Kojima's contentious split, and it shows. It features a non-canon, spin-off story and veers away from its stealth roots in favor of a survivalist approach. But while that might sound like heresy to fans, the most damning thing about Survive is how it squanders its own promise. It buries Metal Gear Solid V's fantastic core mechanics beneath an abysmal campaign, skewed survival systems, and a tedious grind for resources.
Metal Gear is known for its intriguing, over-the-top geopolitical narrative, but that isn't part of Survive. The story distances itself from the rest of the series' fiction, as the Captain (you) gets sucked into a wormhole that opens up in the aftermath of the XOF attack on Mother Base at the end of Ground Zeroes. While that sounds interesting, the campaign spends far too much time justifying progression loops instead of constructing an interesting story, and the few tantalizing threads lead to tepid payoffs. If you're looking for a plot that enriches the Metal Gear universe, prepare to be sorely disappointed.
The controls and mechanics of Metal Gear Solid V anchor most of Survive. Traversing Dite (a hellscape version of MGS V's map) and sneaking up on unsuspecting zombies feels great. The Dust, a harrowing dark zone where your objective markers disappear and your oxygen drains, make missions tense as you're constantly on the clock. Melee weapons are sometimes awkward to wield, but combat becomes more diverse and fun as you find new weapons, defenses, and traps.
Layered on top of this skeleton are various meters to manage as you build up your character and base. Survival is difficult at first; during my first dozen hours, where and how I'd score my next meal was always on my mind. While the idea of scavenging for food isn't inherently flawed, your hunger and thirst drain too quickly. This constantly interrupts the fun of traversing Dite. It eventually gets easier to fill yourself up, but I still I spent large chunks of time wading through menus, figuring out the best way to feed myself and manage my resources and weapons.
The campaign was practically over by the time I had stocked my base camp with water, livestock, and staff, which made building them up unrewarding. They ultimately serve as pipelines for more resources, which is Survive's primary reward for just about anything. You're encouraged to keep playing after you've finished the main story, but aside from discovering a few secrets and opting into defending your base from waves of zombies, the post-game consists of tedious treks across Dite, doing the same rescue and scavenging tasks multiple times.
You also unlock new weapons and ammo to use, but they require too much micromanagement. Rare weapons are broken when they drop, and you must spend resources before you can equip them. Maintaining gear (which degrades with use) is costly, and even rare weapons become dull so quickly that I held off on using most of them until I had amassed the copious amounts of materials needed to maintain them. This killed the excitement of obtaining a cool new weapon, since I knew I'd have to grind out a few more missions before I could use it.
Co-op pits you and three other players against waves of bad guys, and it's much more fun than playing the solo campaign. Coordinating with others to gather materials, build up defenses, run among various groups of enemies to fend them off, and tackle side missions presents of fun mix of things to do. Although you work with your team to get the most loot, you also need to be selfish. Killing enemies, completing side missions, and building up defenses scores points, and the winner at the end of each match receives a hefty bonus. This mix of cooperation and competition can be frustrating at times, as you sneak up behind an enemy guarding a side objective only for a teammate snatch up your rightfully earned points, but also offers a good incentive for everyone to pull their weight.
Unfortunately, you won't be of use in co-op or get much out of it until you're several hours deep into single-player story, since you have to progress through the campaign to unlock new maps. Though harder difficulties offer satisfying challenges (like defending two key objectives instead of one), the five current maps all share the same wave-based setup and aren't enough to keep the grind for resources fresh.
This is when Survive's microtransactions encroach on the experience. You can pay real money for extra character slots, as well as boosters to enhance your experience and resource gains. Common resources like iron and wood come easily, but rare materials are doled at low quantities, giving rise to a nagging urge to spend real money to speed up the process. Additionally, the time between waves in the single-player base defense can last as long as an actual day, but you can expedite the wait by paying real money (which is tempting when the next wave is set to arrive at six in the morning). You get a daily log-in bonus of currency, but the amount is pitifully minor; it takes days (and even weeks) to amass a useful amount with this approach.
Metal Gear Survive doesn't fail due to its baggage or expectations. It blunders entirely on its own merits. Its co-op suite shows promise and could become legitimately great in time, but the rest of Survive is a boring, grind-heavy slog where the biggest reward is simply more stuff. For as many bits of metal, wood, and fabric I had after 70 hours of play, I couldn't help but think I'd wasted all of my time.
Moss represents an experiment inside the already-experimental world of virtual reality. It's a third-person platformer, but it's played from the perspective of a second character inhabited by the player. I have played games like this before – essentially an action game with an isometric camera, but Moss feels different because it is played in virtual reality.
You are the reader in Moss, literally sitting in a library reading the game's story, guiding Quill the adorable mouse on a journey to save her uncle. She acknowledges you, and where reflective surfaces appear, you even see yourself as a masked spiritual figure. Seeing myself in the world for the first time was exciting. It made me feel involved in an interesting way, and demonstrates what VR (even when unevenly executed) can add to this genre.
The moment-to-moment gameplay has you controlling Quill as she platforms and climbs through the environment and occasionally unsheathes her sword to battle with enemies. The movement and jumping feel great thanks to Quill's fantastic animation. She moves with amazing fluidity both in gameplay and in the custom cutscene animation.
She looks great swinging a sword, too, but the combat gets tedious fighting wave after wave of familiar enemies. I like the feel of battle, pulling off simple combos and quickly dodging attacks, but once you find your baseline tactic (slash, slash, dodge, repeat), Moss never gives you a reason to leave that comfort zone.
As the reader, you also interact with the world directly, moving the controller to rotate platforms and move blocks. You also take control of enemies by hovering over them. This element is inconsistent, and I elbowed my chair frequently to get my hands into place. Every time the in-game icon would bounce around or not work properly, it would take me right out of the experience.
Quill's story is a simple one. She finds a magical artifact that sends her on a journey to save her uncle and with its anthropomorphic animals in a medieval setting, it reminded me of Brian Jacques' Redwall book series, which I loved when I was young. Quill's journey is your focus, but the environments are littered with clues about the past, teasing that humans and advanced technology may have existed at one time. The final boss fight is satisfying, but it stumbles right at the end with a tease for a sequel. Wanting more from a story is usually a good thing, but in this case, the game held too much back and left me disappointed.
Moss struggles with some aspects of its VR implementation. Playing a video game with your neck isn't particularly fun and the motion controls cause more trouble than they're worth, but many moments are aided by wearing the headset. Seeing myself for the first time was a fun surprise, and directly interacting with Quill, like giving her a high-five after completing a puzzle, wouldn't feel the same in a standard game. Despite its shortcomings, Moss is one of my favorite virtual-reality experiences, and I look forward to seeing where the story goes next.