2019
GOTY 2019 - NUMBER THREE
Video version
Resident Evil is one of most confusing brands out there. I mean, fucking, what is it? The big brass-balled action games of the 2000s? The slow, rigid processes of micromanagement and backtracking of the 90s games? The fucking rubbish films? What is it?
Capcom have been attempting to answer this question after reeling back from the messy, obnoxious (mildly underrated) Resi 6 threatened to lose every bit of goodwill players had for the series. There’s been mixed success in the Revelations games and 7, but nothing that really nailed what made Resident Evil so memorable, charming and vital. With this in mind, it makes so much sense to summarise the best qualities of the full series in a Resi 2 remake.
Like the series in general, Resi 2 is often mischaracterised by many. It’s uncontroversial to say that it’s the Judgment Day or Aliens to Resi 1’s The Teminator or Alien. These days, a lot gets made out of the fact that it was directed by action game superstar, Hideki Kamiya. But there’s far more Resi 1 and Mikami to it than those things suggest. It’s very much a game of managing your inventory, planning the most viable routes through large buildings, and enjoying hammy dialogue being laughably read by characters who feel far too wholesome to be blasting deformed nightmare creatures with acid rounds. Resi 2 is Resi 1 in a frayed leather jacket.
It has a little more edge and intrigue to it. There’s more players in the story. The sight of a city overrun with zombies feels far less controlled than some lone mansion out in the wilderness. The monster designs are wilder, and the progression of William Burkin’s mutation from a scientist in a lab coat to a shapeless mass of bleeding eyes and teeth consumed my 12 year-old imagination far more than The Tyrant ever did.
Resi 2 is a perfect middle ground between what Resident Evil was, and what it became (before it became terrible). If you’re revisiting its characters, settings, story and structure, you can pull material from all over the series without taking away from it.
The crux of my pessimism for the future of Resident Evil was always pinned on how Capcom started pishing out all their key talent when they closed Clover and started outsourcing. They lost everyone who understood what made the games work, and focused solely on what made them marketable. Now, it seems they’ve figured out how to foster their new creative talent, and identify how the designers of their old hits were thinking. Devil May Cry, Monster Hunter, Street Fighter, Mega Man and, now, Resident Evil, are all exciting, daring franchises again, and they all reflect what made them big names in the first place.
The Resi 2 remake borrows a lot from 4 and the action games that followed it, and crucially, the big takeaway from 7 seems to be that exploration, richly decorated rooms and inventory management were central to what made the survival horror games work well, but there’s also a healthy dose of classic Resi shit in this. Lavishly decorated foyers and libraries, ludicrously specific puzzle pieces, and chatty idiot heroes that I absolutely adore. My mind was made up that this was proper Resi when Leon and Claire shared a sweet, breezy conversation, entirely aware of the undead that were falling through the foliage that surrounded them.
They haven’t forgotten that weird, corny charm that makes me want to cuddle up with Resident Evil, but they haven’t forgotten the dread and regret either. In fact, that’s possibly the richest it’s ever been. You’re constantly pushed into scenarios where careful planning and skillful gameplay could cut out up to two thirds of the dangers around you, but you’re always going to have to deal with that last third. And then there’s unpredictable nature of Mr X to factor in to it all. It’s beautifully balanced. You’re handed situations that make you feel so clever and capable, and then something bursts in that turns you into a panicking idiot in an instant. So much of what I love about game design is in Resident Evil, but so many of the games have lost sight of it. It’s in full focus in here.
There’s also a lot learned from the Resi 1 remake, even if it feels completely different when applied to this game. The self-defense items are back, rounding out the combat and inviting you to attempt to recover knives from the things that slipped you up. More crucial than that is how it taught the team how to make an effective horror remake. It knows where to shift things around, which iconic environments and moments to bring back, and how to keep both new and old audiences on edge. I’d worried that you could only do an effective Resident Evil remake once, but the Resi 2 Remake shows me that it just takes a little finesse and careful consideration to play around with the familiar in a compelling way.
Let’s talk about what’s unique to it though. The gunplay is really excellent. The misguided demands for the series to adopt more contemporary controls has been a massive factor in what took away from the weight and satisfaction of more recent entries. You can move in all directions while aiming in this game, but your shots will be more effective if you stand still for a second and line-up your aim. Monsters move much less consistently here. Zombies feel like piles of rotting flesh and organs struggling to hold together, approaching you on instinct alone. Their heads are never at a constant height. You can’t aim in one spot and wait for them to line up with it. You have to react dynamically to their movement, and thanks to the cramped corridors, you rarely feel like you’re given enough space to feel comfortable that you’re going to get the most out of a shot. You’re scrambling, and firing shots out of panic. You’re making more of those crucial, exciting regrets.
I don’t want to give the remake too easy a time. There’s elements of it that feel a little fluffy and uneven. I’m devastated that the alligator fight is now a fucking rubbish Crash Bandicoot-style chase sequence, and it only illustrates how well Resi 4 adopted QTE sequences for dynamic action setpieces that its core gameplay couldn’t capture. It’s all to be expected when making such a radically different adaptation that still leans so hard on memorable locations and moments though.
The RCPD station is now one continuous environment. There’s no loading sequences between rooms. Everything feels far more physical and connected, and with monsters now having the ability to follow you between rooms, you’re robbed of the relief you once felt from escaping a dangerous corridor. It’s risky to change the dynamics of comfort in an established Resi game, but it really complements the scrambling feel of the new controls and gameplay. It feels like the right approach. This is what a 2019 Resident Evil game fucking should be, and I’m elated that they’ve got it so right.
Video version
Resident Evil is one of most confusing brands out there. I mean, fucking, what is it? The big brass-balled action games of the 2000s? The slow, rigid processes of micromanagement and backtracking of the 90s games? The fucking rubbish films? What is it?
Capcom have been attempting to answer this question after reeling back from the messy, obnoxious (mildly underrated) Resi 6 threatened to lose every bit of goodwill players had for the series. There’s been mixed success in the Revelations games and 7, but nothing that really nailed what made Resident Evil so memorable, charming and vital. With this in mind, it makes so much sense to summarise the best qualities of the full series in a Resi 2 remake.
Like the series in general, Resi 2 is often mischaracterised by many. It’s uncontroversial to say that it’s the Judgment Day or Aliens to Resi 1’s The Teminator or Alien. These days, a lot gets made out of the fact that it was directed by action game superstar, Hideki Kamiya. But there’s far more Resi 1 and Mikami to it than those things suggest. It’s very much a game of managing your inventory, planning the most viable routes through large buildings, and enjoying hammy dialogue being laughably read by characters who feel far too wholesome to be blasting deformed nightmare creatures with acid rounds. Resi 2 is Resi 1 in a frayed leather jacket.
It has a little more edge and intrigue to it. There’s more players in the story. The sight of a city overrun with zombies feels far less controlled than some lone mansion out in the wilderness. The monster designs are wilder, and the progression of William Burkin’s mutation from a scientist in a lab coat to a shapeless mass of bleeding eyes and teeth consumed my 12 year-old imagination far more than The Tyrant ever did.
Resi 2 is a perfect middle ground between what Resident Evil was, and what it became (before it became terrible). If you’re revisiting its characters, settings, story and structure, you can pull material from all over the series without taking away from it.
The crux of my pessimism for the future of Resident Evil was always pinned on how Capcom started pishing out all their key talent when they closed Clover and started outsourcing. They lost everyone who understood what made the games work, and focused solely on what made them marketable. Now, it seems they’ve figured out how to foster their new creative talent, and identify how the designers of their old hits were thinking. Devil May Cry, Monster Hunter, Street Fighter, Mega Man and, now, Resident Evil, are all exciting, daring franchises again, and they all reflect what made them big names in the first place.
The Resi 2 remake borrows a lot from 4 and the action games that followed it, and crucially, the big takeaway from 7 seems to be that exploration, richly decorated rooms and inventory management were central to what made the survival horror games work well, but there’s also a healthy dose of classic Resi shit in this. Lavishly decorated foyers and libraries, ludicrously specific puzzle pieces, and chatty idiot heroes that I absolutely adore. My mind was made up that this was proper Resi when Leon and Claire shared a sweet, breezy conversation, entirely aware of the undead that were falling through the foliage that surrounded them.
They haven’t forgotten that weird, corny charm that makes me want to cuddle up with Resident Evil, but they haven’t forgotten the dread and regret either. In fact, that’s possibly the richest it’s ever been. You’re constantly pushed into scenarios where careful planning and skillful gameplay could cut out up to two thirds of the dangers around you, but you’re always going to have to deal with that last third. And then there’s unpredictable nature of Mr X to factor in to it all. It’s beautifully balanced. You’re handed situations that make you feel so clever and capable, and then something bursts in that turns you into a panicking idiot in an instant. So much of what I love about game design is in Resident Evil, but so many of the games have lost sight of it. It’s in full focus in here.
There’s also a lot learned from the Resi 1 remake, even if it feels completely different when applied to this game. The self-defense items are back, rounding out the combat and inviting you to attempt to recover knives from the things that slipped you up. More crucial than that is how it taught the team how to make an effective horror remake. It knows where to shift things around, which iconic environments and moments to bring back, and how to keep both new and old audiences on edge. I’d worried that you could only do an effective Resident Evil remake once, but the Resi 2 Remake shows me that it just takes a little finesse and careful consideration to play around with the familiar in a compelling way.
Let’s talk about what’s unique to it though. The gunplay is really excellent. The misguided demands for the series to adopt more contemporary controls has been a massive factor in what took away from the weight and satisfaction of more recent entries. You can move in all directions while aiming in this game, but your shots will be more effective if you stand still for a second and line-up your aim. Monsters move much less consistently here. Zombies feel like piles of rotting flesh and organs struggling to hold together, approaching you on instinct alone. Their heads are never at a constant height. You can’t aim in one spot and wait for them to line up with it. You have to react dynamically to their movement, and thanks to the cramped corridors, you rarely feel like you’re given enough space to feel comfortable that you’re going to get the most out of a shot. You’re scrambling, and firing shots out of panic. You’re making more of those crucial, exciting regrets.
I don’t want to give the remake too easy a time. There’s elements of it that feel a little fluffy and uneven. I’m devastated that the alligator fight is now a fucking rubbish Crash Bandicoot-style chase sequence, and it only illustrates how well Resi 4 adopted QTE sequences for dynamic action setpieces that its core gameplay couldn’t capture. It’s all to be expected when making such a radically different adaptation that still leans so hard on memorable locations and moments though.
The RCPD station is now one continuous environment. There’s no loading sequences between rooms. Everything feels far more physical and connected, and with monsters now having the ability to follow you between rooms, you’re robbed of the relief you once felt from escaping a dangerous corridor. It’s risky to change the dynamics of comfort in an established Resi game, but it really complements the scrambling feel of the new controls and gameplay. It feels like the right approach. This is what a 2019 Resident Evil game fucking should be, and I’m elated that they’ve got it so right.
2019
GOTY 2019 - NUMBER TWO
Video version
It’s difficult to know where to place Super Mario Maker 2 on a list like this. It doesn’t feel so much like a game in its own right. It’s more like an app. Something that takes a very natural spot in your life, and you don’t want to go without now that you have it. It’s an acceptance of how important a part of our lives Mario is. Sometimes you just want to play Mario, and Super Mario Maker 2 is the best thing to turn to when that happens.
This is Mario. Everything you want when that “I want to play Mario” feeling hits you. Mario is fun. Mario is varied. Mario has charm and personality. Mario lets you slide on your bum down hills into Koopa Troopas and ride a Yoshi that eats Cheep Cheeps. Mario Maker 2 is Mario.
The main thing that Mario Maker 2 improves upon from the Wii U game is how well it represents each game style. Super Mario Bros. 3 levels feel fast and focused, while New Super Mario Bros. levels are full of bounce and puzzles, and 3D World levels feel grand, slick and celebratory. They share level components, but the different physics and movesets inform how every designer builds their stages. Super Mario World style-levels feel like Super Mario World levels now, and that’s a massive statement. It’s not just different skins placed on top of Super Mario Bros 1 levels anymore. You can do big vertically stacked levels and big mazey caverns now. You can indulge in all the reasons Super Mario Bros 3 and World are so enduringly compelling. It’s here. The proper Mario.
There has been some disappointment that some of Mario Maker’s personality has been toned-down in the sequel. It’s an understandable concern, but it’s one that I feel represents a change in focus. The personality now comes from each of the old games represented, and because they feel so authentic, you’re reminded of why you love each individual entry.
Even in a glowing, positive piece like this, I’m not going to pretend that the loss of the Wii U’s GamePad doesn’t make the process of building new levels much less attractive, but I’ve found myself far more interested in playing Mario Maker 2 levels. Search options and curation are still fairly hands-off, so it’s curious that the average Mario Maker 2 level tends to be much more fun and representative of good Mario design than they were in the Wii U game. Maybe people have just got bored of auto-Mario and game-breaking levels? I don’t know, but even if you’re letting the game load up levels randomly from the pool of user-made entries, the results tend to be far more fun and interesting. Maybe it’s the fact that Nintendo have given their audience the ability to call out bullshit levels? Yeah, probably. Nobody’s going to play through a scribble of stacked enemies and ground pieces and upvote it.
One of the new features that I didn’t have a lot of hope for actually turned out to be one of the most attractive reasons to choose Mario Maker 2 when selecting which Mario game you’d like to play- competitive multiplayer. Again, a controversial opinion given the game’s shaky online performance, but finding yourself alongside a room of similarly-skilled Mario players and attempting to overcome levels you’ve never seen before, with sometimes dubious design, is one of the most fun ways to approach the game. In straightforward levels, it’s a pure test of skill as you each race to the flagpole. In trickier, or less well-engineered levels, it can be a lot of fun to see an opponent fall victim to a trap that might have taken you in, if not for their example. Sometimes I might not be in the mood for the kinds of levels you end up on in Mario Maker, but the idea of playing them competitively changes the dynamic so richly, I’ve often found myself coming back for a few after burning out on other games.
It’s why I’d seriously recommend getting Mario Maker 2 digitally. Just every now and then. One level, two level, three levels, four, Mario Maker, Mario Maker, Mario Maker more. It’s a lovely thing to pop on every now and then. Maybe you’ll actually come back to finish some of those mad complicated level projects you started. The Switch needed a good Mario to turn to when you’ve got that urge. Don’t get me wrong – This is no Odyssey, but Odyssey isn’t even nearly as replayable either. This is such a lovely antidote to the problem. You might not play it for weeks on end, but every now and then, this is such a good package. If you own a Switch, you owe it to yourself to get stuck into this big Mario buffet. Nintendo consoles are devices designed to play Mario. You should let them. Your Switch will never truly love you if you don’t.
Video version
It’s difficult to know where to place Super Mario Maker 2 on a list like this. It doesn’t feel so much like a game in its own right. It’s more like an app. Something that takes a very natural spot in your life, and you don’t want to go without now that you have it. It’s an acceptance of how important a part of our lives Mario is. Sometimes you just want to play Mario, and Super Mario Maker 2 is the best thing to turn to when that happens.
This is Mario. Everything you want when that “I want to play Mario” feeling hits you. Mario is fun. Mario is varied. Mario has charm and personality. Mario lets you slide on your bum down hills into Koopa Troopas and ride a Yoshi that eats Cheep Cheeps. Mario Maker 2 is Mario.
The main thing that Mario Maker 2 improves upon from the Wii U game is how well it represents each game style. Super Mario Bros. 3 levels feel fast and focused, while New Super Mario Bros. levels are full of bounce and puzzles, and 3D World levels feel grand, slick and celebratory. They share level components, but the different physics and movesets inform how every designer builds their stages. Super Mario World style-levels feel like Super Mario World levels now, and that’s a massive statement. It’s not just different skins placed on top of Super Mario Bros 1 levels anymore. You can do big vertically stacked levels and big mazey caverns now. You can indulge in all the reasons Super Mario Bros 3 and World are so enduringly compelling. It’s here. The proper Mario.
There has been some disappointment that some of Mario Maker’s personality has been toned-down in the sequel. It’s an understandable concern, but it’s one that I feel represents a change in focus. The personality now comes from each of the old games represented, and because they feel so authentic, you’re reminded of why you love each individual entry.
Even in a glowing, positive piece like this, I’m not going to pretend that the loss of the Wii U’s GamePad doesn’t make the process of building new levels much less attractive, but I’ve found myself far more interested in playing Mario Maker 2 levels. Search options and curation are still fairly hands-off, so it’s curious that the average Mario Maker 2 level tends to be much more fun and representative of good Mario design than they were in the Wii U game. Maybe people have just got bored of auto-Mario and game-breaking levels? I don’t know, but even if you’re letting the game load up levels randomly from the pool of user-made entries, the results tend to be far more fun and interesting. Maybe it’s the fact that Nintendo have given their audience the ability to call out bullshit levels? Yeah, probably. Nobody’s going to play through a scribble of stacked enemies and ground pieces and upvote it.
One of the new features that I didn’t have a lot of hope for actually turned out to be one of the most attractive reasons to choose Mario Maker 2 when selecting which Mario game you’d like to play- competitive multiplayer. Again, a controversial opinion given the game’s shaky online performance, but finding yourself alongside a room of similarly-skilled Mario players and attempting to overcome levels you’ve never seen before, with sometimes dubious design, is one of the most fun ways to approach the game. In straightforward levels, it’s a pure test of skill as you each race to the flagpole. In trickier, or less well-engineered levels, it can be a lot of fun to see an opponent fall victim to a trap that might have taken you in, if not for their example. Sometimes I might not be in the mood for the kinds of levels you end up on in Mario Maker, but the idea of playing them competitively changes the dynamic so richly, I’ve often found myself coming back for a few after burning out on other games.
It’s why I’d seriously recommend getting Mario Maker 2 digitally. Just every now and then. One level, two level, three levels, four, Mario Maker, Mario Maker, Mario Maker more. It’s a lovely thing to pop on every now and then. Maybe you’ll actually come back to finish some of those mad complicated level projects you started. The Switch needed a good Mario to turn to when you’ve got that urge. Don’t get me wrong – This is no Odyssey, but Odyssey isn’t even nearly as replayable either. This is such a lovely antidote to the problem. You might not play it for weeks on end, but every now and then, this is such a good package. If you own a Switch, you owe it to yourself to get stuck into this big Mario buffet. Nintendo consoles are devices designed to play Mario. You should let them. Your Switch will never truly love you if you don’t.
2019
GOTY 2019 - NUMBER ONE
Video version
I don’t use these GOTY projects to surprise anyone. I use them to discuss what makes me love these games so much. It’s now my duty to tell you how much I love Death Stranding.
Without wanting to get too personal or accusatory, in recent years, I’ve seen people become more doubtful of Kojima, and questioning whether they actually like him. Some have criticised his ego, his consideration for his audience and his sexual politics. You’re entitled to take issue with any of that. I love Hideo Kojima though. I admire his deep sincerity, his humour, his warmth, his ambition and his rich understanding of the potential of games. I love the guy who had us hatch an owl from an egg to convince a guard it was nighttime in Metal Gear 2. I love the guy who had us turn up the volume on our TVs to hear a timebomb in Snatcher, before loudly exploding it and having a character tell us off for making such a racket. I love the guy who consistently used one of the biggest franchises in games to spread messages about the horrors of nuclear weapons, the ugly history of war, and how tragic it would be to lose human civilisation to those things. I love Hideo Kojima, and Death Stranding is the most quintessentially Hideo Kojima thing to be released as a commercial product in decades.
For me, Kojima’s design has always been about constraints and limitations. It’s what elevates his work. Kojima started out with no ambition of becoming the influential game director he is today. He just wanted to work in a creative field. Metal Gear wasn’t some genius formula that Kojima came up with out of nowhere, but a pithy response to how hard it was to make action games on the MSX2. You couldn’t make a game where enemies and bullets flooded the screen, but you could make one about avoiding them. Constraints and limitations were what the player were faced with too. The harsh, angular walls shaping the rooms, pushing you to encounter guards and obstacles, and strategically responding to those limits to push through to success. They often push the player to rethink what the limitations are too. Why can’t the game’s packaging provide the solution to a puzzle? It’s liberating to discover that the game’s constraints extend beyond what’s presented on screen. That kind of thinking runs through Kojima’s games, and it’s what makes them so much more than moving an avatar from cutscene to cutscene.
This thinking is at the forefront in Death Stranding. If you want to enjoy it, it means learning to love the constraints. Planning your routes through dangerous, lonely wilderness. Ensuring you have everything you need, but not more than you can carry. Knowing when you can take a threat head-on, or if you’re better off avoiding it. You can talk about the silly acronyms and nonsense jargon as much as you like, but if you ask me, it’s this stuff that’s the meat and potatoes of Kojima’s action games.
Exploring Death Stranding’s stark, desolate hills and valleys, keeping myself aware of all the threats acting against me, was a real treat for me. I’ve never played an open world game where the shape of a landscape affected my approach so dramatically. Death Stranding’s topography is intended to feel wild and natural. It’s such a departure from Metal Gear Solid, where the level design was so precisely arranged that it was constructed from Lego before it was written into code. The brilliance is how it invites the players to conquer the most dangerous areas, design their own solutions to tame them, and share that with the online community. You’re exploring the world and figuring out how to survive in it, as a group, mutually benefiting each member. This is how humanity first thrived. This is why societies were established. This is connecting you to the potency of the game’s message directly through playing it.
As you make your way through the game, placing more tools and contributing to more group projects, you’ll reap the benefits of everything other players have done with the game. Cutting the pain out of traveling between outposts really makes you feel that society is coming together again. You appreciate it, and want to know how you can help those who helped you. You want to contribute in ways that benefit the most people you can. Kojima is trying to help players take on the issues that worry him, in the field where he has the most influence. He’s making his mark and asking us to do the same in our lives. It’s an incredible thing to do with a game, and the end result is elegantly built on the decades of experience he’s gained from games development. Death Stranding isn’t a statement on modern culture, but a message to it. It wants to help. How often do we talk about videogames like this? At this point, shouldn’t it be more?
Death Stranding carries a heavy burden – I know that’s something of a pun, but so many of the names and ideas in the game seem designed to force you into making them. Not only carrying the weight of being the first title from the new, independent Kojima Productions, pushing to bring themselves the recognition of a studio capable of Triple A work, but also the weight of the massively compromised version of The Phantom Pain that was released, and the cancellation of Silent Hills and Zone of the Enders 3. Casting Norman Reedus and Guillermo del Toro as main characters seemed to indicate that Kojima’s plans for those projects would be incorporated into Death Stranding, and there is some evidence for that in the final text. The story touches upon the circumstances that bring people into terrorism, child labor, the power of fear and monsters, and the ancient Egyptian understanding of death and the soul – things that were suggested to be key focuses of the Project Ogre version of MGSV, Silent Hills and ZOE3, respectively. For an ardent supporter of Kojima’s career, it’s cathartic to see something come out of the plans that were quashed by his previous employer. It underlines the fact that Kojima is going to make the kind of stuff he wasn’t allowed to at Konami.
Some of my favourite parts of the game are the text documents and the memory chips that document pieces of art or everyday tools. Things that really paint the picture of what it would mean if the world lost its connection to history, culture and science. It’s one thing to imagine a fractured society where people don’t communicate, but quite another to picture a future where we don’t know what Godzilla is, and how much it would mean to regain that knowledge. Death Stranding is at its best when it’s making me appreciate the historical impact of coffee cups. The wee things that make you really thankful for the work of strangers, and interested in subjects that you might have previously taken for granted. Kojima’s curiosity and appreciation for culture is all over Death Stranding, and it would take a bitterly jaded cynic to not find some value in what he’s saying.
I entirely understand why people don’t like Death Stranding, and I don’t think any less of them for that. It’s a game that’s willfully grueling and repetitive. It doesn’t fulfill a lot of the criteria that many would want from a game. The high-minded social commentary and dark science fiction concepts often clash hard against the videogamey characters and poop jokes. I don’t know if I’d recommend the game to anyone, no matter how much their tastes aligned with my own. It wouldn’t seem realistic for me to expect someone to enjoy it. I absolutely did though. I’m not sure I’d ask for more games like it, or I’d have engaged with it nearly as much as I did if it had come from anyone else, but I’m certainly grateful that it exists.
Video version
I don’t use these GOTY projects to surprise anyone. I use them to discuss what makes me love these games so much. It’s now my duty to tell you how much I love Death Stranding.
Without wanting to get too personal or accusatory, in recent years, I’ve seen people become more doubtful of Kojima, and questioning whether they actually like him. Some have criticised his ego, his consideration for his audience and his sexual politics. You’re entitled to take issue with any of that. I love Hideo Kojima though. I admire his deep sincerity, his humour, his warmth, his ambition and his rich understanding of the potential of games. I love the guy who had us hatch an owl from an egg to convince a guard it was nighttime in Metal Gear 2. I love the guy who had us turn up the volume on our TVs to hear a timebomb in Snatcher, before loudly exploding it and having a character tell us off for making such a racket. I love the guy who consistently used one of the biggest franchises in games to spread messages about the horrors of nuclear weapons, the ugly history of war, and how tragic it would be to lose human civilisation to those things. I love Hideo Kojima, and Death Stranding is the most quintessentially Hideo Kojima thing to be released as a commercial product in decades.
For me, Kojima’s design has always been about constraints and limitations. It’s what elevates his work. Kojima started out with no ambition of becoming the influential game director he is today. He just wanted to work in a creative field. Metal Gear wasn’t some genius formula that Kojima came up with out of nowhere, but a pithy response to how hard it was to make action games on the MSX2. You couldn’t make a game where enemies and bullets flooded the screen, but you could make one about avoiding them. Constraints and limitations were what the player were faced with too. The harsh, angular walls shaping the rooms, pushing you to encounter guards and obstacles, and strategically responding to those limits to push through to success. They often push the player to rethink what the limitations are too. Why can’t the game’s packaging provide the solution to a puzzle? It’s liberating to discover that the game’s constraints extend beyond what’s presented on screen. That kind of thinking runs through Kojima’s games, and it’s what makes them so much more than moving an avatar from cutscene to cutscene.
This thinking is at the forefront in Death Stranding. If you want to enjoy it, it means learning to love the constraints. Planning your routes through dangerous, lonely wilderness. Ensuring you have everything you need, but not more than you can carry. Knowing when you can take a threat head-on, or if you’re better off avoiding it. You can talk about the silly acronyms and nonsense jargon as much as you like, but if you ask me, it’s this stuff that’s the meat and potatoes of Kojima’s action games.
Exploring Death Stranding’s stark, desolate hills and valleys, keeping myself aware of all the threats acting against me, was a real treat for me. I’ve never played an open world game where the shape of a landscape affected my approach so dramatically. Death Stranding’s topography is intended to feel wild and natural. It’s such a departure from Metal Gear Solid, where the level design was so precisely arranged that it was constructed from Lego before it was written into code. The brilliance is how it invites the players to conquer the most dangerous areas, design their own solutions to tame them, and share that with the online community. You’re exploring the world and figuring out how to survive in it, as a group, mutually benefiting each member. This is how humanity first thrived. This is why societies were established. This is connecting you to the potency of the game’s message directly through playing it.
As you make your way through the game, placing more tools and contributing to more group projects, you’ll reap the benefits of everything other players have done with the game. Cutting the pain out of traveling between outposts really makes you feel that society is coming together again. You appreciate it, and want to know how you can help those who helped you. You want to contribute in ways that benefit the most people you can. Kojima is trying to help players take on the issues that worry him, in the field where he has the most influence. He’s making his mark and asking us to do the same in our lives. It’s an incredible thing to do with a game, and the end result is elegantly built on the decades of experience he’s gained from games development. Death Stranding isn’t a statement on modern culture, but a message to it. It wants to help. How often do we talk about videogames like this? At this point, shouldn’t it be more?
Death Stranding carries a heavy burden – I know that’s something of a pun, but so many of the names and ideas in the game seem designed to force you into making them. Not only carrying the weight of being the first title from the new, independent Kojima Productions, pushing to bring themselves the recognition of a studio capable of Triple A work, but also the weight of the massively compromised version of The Phantom Pain that was released, and the cancellation of Silent Hills and Zone of the Enders 3. Casting Norman Reedus and Guillermo del Toro as main characters seemed to indicate that Kojima’s plans for those projects would be incorporated into Death Stranding, and there is some evidence for that in the final text. The story touches upon the circumstances that bring people into terrorism, child labor, the power of fear and monsters, and the ancient Egyptian understanding of death and the soul – things that were suggested to be key focuses of the Project Ogre version of MGSV, Silent Hills and ZOE3, respectively. For an ardent supporter of Kojima’s career, it’s cathartic to see something come out of the plans that were quashed by his previous employer. It underlines the fact that Kojima is going to make the kind of stuff he wasn’t allowed to at Konami.
Some of my favourite parts of the game are the text documents and the memory chips that document pieces of art or everyday tools. Things that really paint the picture of what it would mean if the world lost its connection to history, culture and science. It’s one thing to imagine a fractured society where people don’t communicate, but quite another to picture a future where we don’t know what Godzilla is, and how much it would mean to regain that knowledge. Death Stranding is at its best when it’s making me appreciate the historical impact of coffee cups. The wee things that make you really thankful for the work of strangers, and interested in subjects that you might have previously taken for granted. Kojima’s curiosity and appreciation for culture is all over Death Stranding, and it would take a bitterly jaded cynic to not find some value in what he’s saying.
I entirely understand why people don’t like Death Stranding, and I don’t think any less of them for that. It’s a game that’s willfully grueling and repetitive. It doesn’t fulfill a lot of the criteria that many would want from a game. The high-minded social commentary and dark science fiction concepts often clash hard against the videogamey characters and poop jokes. I don’t know if I’d recommend the game to anyone, no matter how much their tastes aligned with my own. It wouldn’t seem realistic for me to expect someone to enjoy it. I absolutely did though. I’m not sure I’d ask for more games like it, or I’d have engaged with it nearly as much as I did if it had come from anyone else, but I’m certainly grateful that it exists.
2020
GOTY 2020 - NUMBER TEN
Video version
There’s something about a pack-in game. It’s a bit of a showcase of the console’s intentions. The intuitive 2-player action of the Atari 2600’s Combat, the beautiful, fast-paced adventure of Sonic on the Mega Drive, or the creative exploration of the Wii U GamePad’s capabilities in NintendoLand. They’re a bit of a rarity these days, but often a new console doesn’t have much to say for itself. It’s quite refreshing to see Sony put a wee platformer on every PS5.
Astro’s Playroom tiptoes on the middleground between tech demo and game. An opportunity to play around with the Dualsense’s adaptive triggers, haptic rumble and gyrometer, and a bit of a dare to other PS5 developers to utilise these features in their own games. It’s a breezy little title that can be sped through in an hour, though there’s plenty of reasons for players to dig a little deeper. It’s not a system seller, but it’s a welcome reassurance for those who just dropped £450 on another PlayStation.
A lot of the Playroom has me feeling a little ambivalent. I generally only try to cover a game’s positives in these, but it’s 2020 and we’re only on Number 10 here. There’s the shallow exploration of PlayStation brand nostalgia, the combat-heavy platforming and the power suit sections that can take up far too much of the game, but then there’s the fact that this is a new Japan Studio platformer. Built on the shoulders of Ape Escape, LocoRoco and Jumping Flash. It’s a part of Sony that has largely been sidelined for the last couple of generations, but it’s a big part of what I liked about PlayStation consoles in the first place. It’s nice to see a project like this be put in the spotlight.
So, now it’s okay to like Astro’s Playroom, what is there to like about it? Well, those triggers are actually really good, for a start. If you’ve played arcade racing cabinets like Sega Rally, or used Logitech’s Gran Turismo steering wheel, you might have a good idea of how a controller that resists your actions can add to a game. The increase in tension as you pull back on a bow, or the resistance as you start up an engine before the internal explosion loosens the trigger is really satisfying. I’ll often lose myself browsing the unlockable museum items because zooming in feels so cool.
Astro’s Playroom commits the sin of following from the Mega Drive Aladdin school of design rather than the SNES one, in which you run up to enemies and punch them instead of jumping on them, removing the importance of level structure and deliberate movement, but in spite of this, there’s still a really good platformer at the core of it. You’ll find that out if you try the game’s time trial mode, which presents unique speed-focused level layouts based on each of the main game’s worlds. It feels great, and that can be proven by how well the wholesale copying of Super Mario Galaxy’s ice skating controls fit in here. I understand why they had to dumb things down for PlayStation fans, but there’s hints of Nintendo-level stuff here.
And the bits with the wee ball. I’m dead keen on those. They’ve determined that the real use for the controller’s daft touchpad is to emulate a trackball, like from Marble Madness, and it works great. In tandem with how well the game implements haptic feedback, you feel like you’ve got real control over the momentum and angle in how you’re rolling, even on rough surfaces.
The big thing about Astro’s Playroom is what it says as a mission statement for the PlayStation 5. I didn’t have a strong incentive to get a PS5 yet, but now I have one, it’s such a relief to be free of the slow, finicky, directionless PS4. I hated using the thing. The PS5 isn’t the ideal PlayStation either, but it’s such a step up from that, and having Astro’s Playroom to act as a guiding light for the console has me feeling quite optimistic about it. I hope its reflections on Sony’s past are more than trivial fan service.
Video version
There’s something about a pack-in game. It’s a bit of a showcase of the console’s intentions. The intuitive 2-player action of the Atari 2600’s Combat, the beautiful, fast-paced adventure of Sonic on the Mega Drive, or the creative exploration of the Wii U GamePad’s capabilities in NintendoLand. They’re a bit of a rarity these days, but often a new console doesn’t have much to say for itself. It’s quite refreshing to see Sony put a wee platformer on every PS5.
Astro’s Playroom tiptoes on the middleground between tech demo and game. An opportunity to play around with the Dualsense’s adaptive triggers, haptic rumble and gyrometer, and a bit of a dare to other PS5 developers to utilise these features in their own games. It’s a breezy little title that can be sped through in an hour, though there’s plenty of reasons for players to dig a little deeper. It’s not a system seller, but it’s a welcome reassurance for those who just dropped £450 on another PlayStation.
A lot of the Playroom has me feeling a little ambivalent. I generally only try to cover a game’s positives in these, but it’s 2020 and we’re only on Number 10 here. There’s the shallow exploration of PlayStation brand nostalgia, the combat-heavy platforming and the power suit sections that can take up far too much of the game, but then there’s the fact that this is a new Japan Studio platformer. Built on the shoulders of Ape Escape, LocoRoco and Jumping Flash. It’s a part of Sony that has largely been sidelined for the last couple of generations, but it’s a big part of what I liked about PlayStation consoles in the first place. It’s nice to see a project like this be put in the spotlight.
So, now it’s okay to like Astro’s Playroom, what is there to like about it? Well, those triggers are actually really good, for a start. If you’ve played arcade racing cabinets like Sega Rally, or used Logitech’s Gran Turismo steering wheel, you might have a good idea of how a controller that resists your actions can add to a game. The increase in tension as you pull back on a bow, or the resistance as you start up an engine before the internal explosion loosens the trigger is really satisfying. I’ll often lose myself browsing the unlockable museum items because zooming in feels so cool.
Astro’s Playroom commits the sin of following from the Mega Drive Aladdin school of design rather than the SNES one, in which you run up to enemies and punch them instead of jumping on them, removing the importance of level structure and deliberate movement, but in spite of this, there’s still a really good platformer at the core of it. You’ll find that out if you try the game’s time trial mode, which presents unique speed-focused level layouts based on each of the main game’s worlds. It feels great, and that can be proven by how well the wholesale copying of Super Mario Galaxy’s ice skating controls fit in here. I understand why they had to dumb things down for PlayStation fans, but there’s hints of Nintendo-level stuff here.
And the bits with the wee ball. I’m dead keen on those. They’ve determined that the real use for the controller’s daft touchpad is to emulate a trackball, like from Marble Madness, and it works great. In tandem with how well the game implements haptic feedback, you feel like you’ve got real control over the momentum and angle in how you’re rolling, even on rough surfaces.
The big thing about Astro’s Playroom is what it says as a mission statement for the PlayStation 5. I didn’t have a strong incentive to get a PS5 yet, but now I have one, it’s such a relief to be free of the slow, finicky, directionless PS4. I hated using the thing. The PS5 isn’t the ideal PlayStation either, but it’s such a step up from that, and having Astro’s Playroom to act as a guiding light for the console has me feeling quite optimistic about it. I hope its reflections on Sony’s past are more than trivial fan service.
2018
GOTY 2020 - NUMBER NINE
Video version
2020 was the year that skateboarding games finally came back. Not to ignore the brilliant OlliOlli games that have kept me going over the last decade, but with Skater XL, Tony Hawk’s 1&2, the Early Access launch of Session, and the long-needed announcement of Skate 4, the genre feels more alive and diverse than ever. Crucially, all these games are distinct and have reason to coexist. Skater XL feels like the most successful step forward for the genre of the bunch.
Skater XL is very niche. While something like Tony Hawk’s might appeal to fans of 3D platformers or high-skill arcade games, Skater XL is designed much more for people who love skateboarding. There’s no real game here. It’s more of a toy. A set of different levels to mess about in, with no set goals or progression. For many, those things just clutter up a good skateboarding game. This isn’t interested in the standard structure of a videogame.
While Skate bewildered many THPS fans by taking more of a simulation-style approach, Skater XL makes that feel simplistic and videogamey. Skate approximates the movement of your feet based on how you move the right analogue stick. Skater XL splits control of each foot between the two analogue sticks. The advantage is not only how each trick feels, but the control you have – how hard you push a kickflip or how far you spin the skateboard for a shove-it. This gives you far wider range of options in how you approach obstacles, and the inspiration you get while weighing up the possibilities. A smoothly performed manual on a picnic table in Skater XL can feel far more satisfying than a 5-minute unbroken combo in THPS.
The whole things feels very much like an evolution of Skate. A wee group of skateboarding enthusiasts who loved the game, but were frustrated by how it chose to present certain things. Not to say that Skater XL is better than Skate. The levels are relatively cramped, and there’s animation and collision issues all over the thing. There’s none of Skate’s brilliant weight-shifting manipulation. The game’s strength is in the fidelity of the controls for street skating. Skateboarding is a creative experience, and Skater XL makes Skate feel like trying to paint a portrait with a crayon.
If you’re into this stuff, returning to Skater XL after a week feels incredible. After all the linear, join-the-dots blockbusters of the current games industry, or even the hectic, pushy noise and clatter of the old stuff, it’s great to have games that are played entirely on your own terms. Your engagement with Skater XL hinges entirely on what it inspires you to try, and what you can get out of its mechanics.
I kind of hate critical summaries of games that posit that if you’re not already a fan of the genre or franchise, an otherwise appealing game will do nothing for you. It dismisses games as mere merchandise, and not things that have value in their own right. It creates artificial boundaries to those who might want to try something different. Games that have nothing to do with skateboarding could learn from Skater XL. It’s just a nice wee thing.
Video version
2020 was the year that skateboarding games finally came back. Not to ignore the brilliant OlliOlli games that have kept me going over the last decade, but with Skater XL, Tony Hawk’s 1&2, the Early Access launch of Session, and the long-needed announcement of Skate 4, the genre feels more alive and diverse than ever. Crucially, all these games are distinct and have reason to coexist. Skater XL feels like the most successful step forward for the genre of the bunch.
Skater XL is very niche. While something like Tony Hawk’s might appeal to fans of 3D platformers or high-skill arcade games, Skater XL is designed much more for people who love skateboarding. There’s no real game here. It’s more of a toy. A set of different levels to mess about in, with no set goals or progression. For many, those things just clutter up a good skateboarding game. This isn’t interested in the standard structure of a videogame.
While Skate bewildered many THPS fans by taking more of a simulation-style approach, Skater XL makes that feel simplistic and videogamey. Skate approximates the movement of your feet based on how you move the right analogue stick. Skater XL splits control of each foot between the two analogue sticks. The advantage is not only how each trick feels, but the control you have – how hard you push a kickflip or how far you spin the skateboard for a shove-it. This gives you far wider range of options in how you approach obstacles, and the inspiration you get while weighing up the possibilities. A smoothly performed manual on a picnic table in Skater XL can feel far more satisfying than a 5-minute unbroken combo in THPS.
The whole things feels very much like an evolution of Skate. A wee group of skateboarding enthusiasts who loved the game, but were frustrated by how it chose to present certain things. Not to say that Skater XL is better than Skate. The levels are relatively cramped, and there’s animation and collision issues all over the thing. There’s none of Skate’s brilliant weight-shifting manipulation. The game’s strength is in the fidelity of the controls for street skating. Skateboarding is a creative experience, and Skater XL makes Skate feel like trying to paint a portrait with a crayon.
If you’re into this stuff, returning to Skater XL after a week feels incredible. After all the linear, join-the-dots blockbusters of the current games industry, or even the hectic, pushy noise and clatter of the old stuff, it’s great to have games that are played entirely on your own terms. Your engagement with Skater XL hinges entirely on what it inspires you to try, and what you can get out of its mechanics.
I kind of hate critical summaries of games that posit that if you’re not already a fan of the genre or franchise, an otherwise appealing game will do nothing for you. It dismisses games as mere merchandise, and not things that have value in their own right. It creates artificial boundaries to those who might want to try something different. Games that have nothing to do with skateboarding could learn from Skater XL. It’s just a nice wee thing.
2020
GOTY 2020 - NUMBER EIGHT
Video version
How do you feel about Super Mario Bros.? The first one. See, I don’t think many folk in Europe really have much of a connection to it. We’ve all played it of course. Just checking it off the list, really, but the NES never had the kind of impact over here that it did in Japan or America. And even if you had Super Mario All-Stars, you probably didn’t spend much time with the original. Super Mario Bros. is a game that’s supposed to be attempted over and over again, for weeks on end, until you know the each trap and each dungeon route off by heart. It’s a difficult thing to get modern audiences on board with, but Super Mario Bros. 35 is the perfect solution.
It’s Tetris 99, but it’s Mario. Mario doesn’t lend itself to the format quite as well, but it gains massively from it. You’re not just trying to complete levels quickly, but killing baddies and sending them over to your 34 opponents. Surviving means balancing coins, power ups and baddies to stay in the race.
If you’re going to play, you’re going to have to accept it means playing some levels hundreds of times. Initially, it’s annoying. Eventually, it becomes routine and you’ll be able to play 1-1 with your eyes closed. The tricks and traps of the levels aren’t the main concern here. You have to strategically use levels to your advantage. Warp Zones now offer pipeways to random selections of levels, and knowing which ones are which can really help. When you’ve built up confidence on each stage, you can start playing them for their strategic potential. Maybe you want just to go back to 1-1 for some easy coins and power-ups, or maybe you’ve already stocked up and you want to send your opponents some really scary baddies from the dungeon levels. It’s a great way to learn the game, but the dynamics of the random level selection and playing against opponents who are actively making the stages tougher for you makes it much more fun to come back to than playing the exact same thing over and over again.
As an anniversary title, and a way to invite new audiences to appreciate the game, it’s a massive success. For those who already love it, it’s a great opportunity to show off what they can do against likeminded fans. A great time.
Video version
How do you feel about Super Mario Bros.? The first one. See, I don’t think many folk in Europe really have much of a connection to it. We’ve all played it of course. Just checking it off the list, really, but the NES never had the kind of impact over here that it did in Japan or America. And even if you had Super Mario All-Stars, you probably didn’t spend much time with the original. Super Mario Bros. is a game that’s supposed to be attempted over and over again, for weeks on end, until you know the each trap and each dungeon route off by heart. It’s a difficult thing to get modern audiences on board with, but Super Mario Bros. 35 is the perfect solution.
It’s Tetris 99, but it’s Mario. Mario doesn’t lend itself to the format quite as well, but it gains massively from it. You’re not just trying to complete levels quickly, but killing baddies and sending them over to your 34 opponents. Surviving means balancing coins, power ups and baddies to stay in the race.
If you’re going to play, you’re going to have to accept it means playing some levels hundreds of times. Initially, it’s annoying. Eventually, it becomes routine and you’ll be able to play 1-1 with your eyes closed. The tricks and traps of the levels aren’t the main concern here. You have to strategically use levels to your advantage. Warp Zones now offer pipeways to random selections of levels, and knowing which ones are which can really help. When you’ve built up confidence on each stage, you can start playing them for their strategic potential. Maybe you want just to go back to 1-1 for some easy coins and power-ups, or maybe you’ve already stocked up and you want to send your opponents some really scary baddies from the dungeon levels. It’s a great way to learn the game, but the dynamics of the random level selection and playing against opponents who are actively making the stages tougher for you makes it much more fun to come back to than playing the exact same thing over and over again.
As an anniversary title, and a way to invite new audiences to appreciate the game, it’s a massive success. For those who already love it, it’s a great opportunity to show off what they can do against likeminded fans. A great time.
GOTY 2020 - NUMBER SEVEN
Video version
Age of Calamity is an odd one. It kind of feels like one of those manga tie-ins that takes massive liberties with the established canon to add a bunch of stupid bullshit. It could have taken that form. What we’ve got instead though, is a Musou game, and that was a really good idea.
Breath of the Wild was a game that tried to convey a sense of melancholy. The big events happened 100 years ago, and you were left tidying up. It was natural that fans would be curious about the war, but that would never have made a good Zelda game. It would be a mess of fights… A Musou game.
Musou games are stupid and repetitive, but they’re also fun. A part of me was holding off on making any solid GOTY choices before playing this, because it’s Breath of the Wild, but I’ll level with you – A Musou game’s never getting to the top of one of these lists. I was kidding myself. These games are sloppy, trashy nonsense. They’re still fun though. And Age of Calamity’s the most I’ve liked one of them.
The original Hyrule Warriors was a celebration of all of Zelda, but Breath of the Wild was so distinct and captivating, it makes sense to give it a Musou all of its own. The diverse open world provided so many opportunities for compelling gameplay experiences, you can easily just chuck a new game on top of it. Omega Force have stretched the game’s cast to their limits to provide a full roster, but the end result is something that works to both games’ favour.
The story is simultaneously the big thing to draw Zelda fans to play this, and not something to take seriously. If you approach it with the right attitude, there’s a lot to enjoy. It’s shallow, but getting to see Zelda’s journey from a coddled teenage princess to a hero who will seal away Calamity Ganon has some really fun moments of melodrama. It’s like shonen anime, and it’s a laugh to see Princess Zelda go through the tropes.
Another divisive feature of Breath of Wild was the absence of music. It wasn’t entirely gone, but it was generally more of an ambient thing than the heroic BGM we’ve come to expect from the games. It was used to complement the idea of a Hyrule in ruins, sparsely populated. Now we’re seeing Hyrule in its prime, it makes sense to fill the air with music, and it’s great. Not your standard Dynasty Warriors buttrock arrangements, it’s very much focused on filling out what was introduced in Breath of the Wild. That’s the atmosphere that Age of Calamity sticks to.
What’s really admirable about Age of Calamity is how distinctive its characters’ movesets feel. Link is fairly familiar, while Zelda uses mad Shieka Slate powers and Impa’s full of high-flying Naruto jutsu nonsense. This carries through for all the Champions and all the daft surprise characters. Breath of the Wild rarely gave many of these characters an opportunity to shine, so it’s fun to get more of an idea of each personality and their place in the war.
Age of Calamity threatened to be something every Zelda fan had to play. It should come as a relief that it’s not. If you don’t like Musou games, this isn’t going to convince you otherwise, and I expect it’s probably too Zelda for a lot of Dynasty Warriors fans. It’s a game that you should only approach if you’re in the mood for it. Would you buy a dumb manga about Breath of the Wild’s backstory? That’s your answer. I would, I did, and I’m glad.
Video version
Age of Calamity is an odd one. It kind of feels like one of those manga tie-ins that takes massive liberties with the established canon to add a bunch of stupid bullshit. It could have taken that form. What we’ve got instead though, is a Musou game, and that was a really good idea.
Breath of the Wild was a game that tried to convey a sense of melancholy. The big events happened 100 years ago, and you were left tidying up. It was natural that fans would be curious about the war, but that would never have made a good Zelda game. It would be a mess of fights… A Musou game.
Musou games are stupid and repetitive, but they’re also fun. A part of me was holding off on making any solid GOTY choices before playing this, because it’s Breath of the Wild, but I’ll level with you – A Musou game’s never getting to the top of one of these lists. I was kidding myself. These games are sloppy, trashy nonsense. They’re still fun though. And Age of Calamity’s the most I’ve liked one of them.
The original Hyrule Warriors was a celebration of all of Zelda, but Breath of the Wild was so distinct and captivating, it makes sense to give it a Musou all of its own. The diverse open world provided so many opportunities for compelling gameplay experiences, you can easily just chuck a new game on top of it. Omega Force have stretched the game’s cast to their limits to provide a full roster, but the end result is something that works to both games’ favour.
The story is simultaneously the big thing to draw Zelda fans to play this, and not something to take seriously. If you approach it with the right attitude, there’s a lot to enjoy. It’s shallow, but getting to see Zelda’s journey from a coddled teenage princess to a hero who will seal away Calamity Ganon has some really fun moments of melodrama. It’s like shonen anime, and it’s a laugh to see Princess Zelda go through the tropes.
Another divisive feature of Breath of Wild was the absence of music. It wasn’t entirely gone, but it was generally more of an ambient thing than the heroic BGM we’ve come to expect from the games. It was used to complement the idea of a Hyrule in ruins, sparsely populated. Now we’re seeing Hyrule in its prime, it makes sense to fill the air with music, and it’s great. Not your standard Dynasty Warriors buttrock arrangements, it’s very much focused on filling out what was introduced in Breath of the Wild. That’s the atmosphere that Age of Calamity sticks to.
What’s really admirable about Age of Calamity is how distinctive its characters’ movesets feel. Link is fairly familiar, while Zelda uses mad Shieka Slate powers and Impa’s full of high-flying Naruto jutsu nonsense. This carries through for all the Champions and all the daft surprise characters. Breath of the Wild rarely gave many of these characters an opportunity to shine, so it’s fun to get more of an idea of each personality and their place in the war.
Age of Calamity threatened to be something every Zelda fan had to play. It should come as a relief that it’s not. If you don’t like Musou games, this isn’t going to convince you otherwise, and I expect it’s probably too Zelda for a lot of Dynasty Warriors fans. It’s a game that you should only approach if you’re in the mood for it. Would you buy a dumb manga about Breath of the Wild’s backstory? That’s your answer. I would, I did, and I’m glad.
GOTY 2020 - NUMBER SIX
Video version
Right! Right! Right! You don’t have to tell me. I fuckin’ know. I’m not here to convince you that you liked it, but I have to talk about why it was one of my favourite games of the year. It was always going to be contentious. People are passionate about Final Fantasy VII. Passionate about what they like, what they hate, about the direction Square Enix have taken the franchise since the mid-nineties… I can only speak for myself, but honestly, I wasn’t expecting to like the game nearly as much as I do.
Everything’s a balancing act of what contemporary audiences want, what different branches of the hardcore fanbase want, and what the original game did. There’s stuff in the remake that reflects the post-PS1 aesthetic and attitude of the Final Fantasy franchise that had put me off the series for years, but I understand there’s people who love that stuff, who only wanted a remake so that the story and world could follow more in line with that direction. I’m happy that they get it, because they’ve implemented it in a way where it sits comfortably alongside a game that seems to push so passionately to appeal to fans like me too.
I never wanted a Final Fantasy VII Remake. I’ve only come to love the game recently, but it seemed clear to me that what I liked most about it would be nigh-on impossible to replicate in a modern triple A videogame. Much of it was in the hallmarks of the late 90s games I love most; Ocarina of Time, Metal Gear Solid, Resident Evil… Final Fantasy VII shared that kind of creativity, ambition, earnestness and absurdity. From the fascinating art direction and fantastic music to the sappy ecological moralising and the Chocobo races. It was a great reminder of what I love about those games. Big characters doing big things with all the will in the world. I love that. I didn’t think a modern game could capture that, and I’m really impressed with the job they’ve done on the remake.
The tone is just right. I love Cloud, Tifa, Barret, Aerith and Red XIII. I love Midgar. I love Avalanche. I love Shinra. It’s all daft, and sweet, and doesn’t come off as too self-aware. I had no idea the script and voice cast would be nearly as funny as they are. I’m laughing with the game, and that only makes it easier to really sympathise with these characters and like them.
The new team seem to have an incredible affection for the original game, and it comes across in every background detail, minigame and character design choice they’ve re-realised in a huge 3D HD hardware-pushing PS4 release. I’d feel guilty running through the environments, thinking of how much time and effort was spent on the presentation, but the subtleties suggest that it was a cathartic experience for them to explore how all this stuff could exist in a more physical world. At one point in the game, Aerith explains that she doesn’t see Midgar as a collection of dirty slums, reasoning that she finds beauty in the result of all these different dreams and years of hard work coming together to create something bigger. I think she’s speaking on behalf of the developers.
The crucial thing is that Final Fantasy VII Remake plays brilliantly too. The combat is fast, fluid, and gorgeously animated, while losing none of the strategy or tension from the original game’s fights. Managing your party’s HP, MP and items is as important here as it ever was. I find the distinction between the characters much more exciting though. I remember seeing the game as a kid, and getting really thrilled with the concept of a massive fella with a gatling gun for an arm. I was later disappointed to find out it was all menu-driven and he played pretty much the same as the guy with the big sword, or the kickboxing girl. Now, Barrett feels like a massive fella with a gatling gun for an arm. Firing at distant sentries and swarming aerial creatures while Cloud swings his Buster Sword through groups of enemies on the ground with all the weight that its design would suggest. Maybe it comes to the detriment of the balancing, but it’s precisely what I wanted when I first saw those character designs.
In its closing moments, the game makes it clear that this isn’t going to follow the original game’s design too closely in its following entries. Even as an admitted Final Fantasy VII Remake apologist, I have my issues with some of the new stuff, and I’m a little nervous over the thought of the sequels they’re hinting at. It does come as a reminder that they have no intention of making the original game redundant, though. The developers love it. This is an opportunity to explore its ideas in a new way, and seeing how much I liked in this, I’m open to seeing where they take things next.
Video version
Right! Right! Right! You don’t have to tell me. I fuckin’ know. I’m not here to convince you that you liked it, but I have to talk about why it was one of my favourite games of the year. It was always going to be contentious. People are passionate about Final Fantasy VII. Passionate about what they like, what they hate, about the direction Square Enix have taken the franchise since the mid-nineties… I can only speak for myself, but honestly, I wasn’t expecting to like the game nearly as much as I do.
Everything’s a balancing act of what contemporary audiences want, what different branches of the hardcore fanbase want, and what the original game did. There’s stuff in the remake that reflects the post-PS1 aesthetic and attitude of the Final Fantasy franchise that had put me off the series for years, but I understand there’s people who love that stuff, who only wanted a remake so that the story and world could follow more in line with that direction. I’m happy that they get it, because they’ve implemented it in a way where it sits comfortably alongside a game that seems to push so passionately to appeal to fans like me too.
I never wanted a Final Fantasy VII Remake. I’ve only come to love the game recently, but it seemed clear to me that what I liked most about it would be nigh-on impossible to replicate in a modern triple A videogame. Much of it was in the hallmarks of the late 90s games I love most; Ocarina of Time, Metal Gear Solid, Resident Evil… Final Fantasy VII shared that kind of creativity, ambition, earnestness and absurdity. From the fascinating art direction and fantastic music to the sappy ecological moralising and the Chocobo races. It was a great reminder of what I love about those games. Big characters doing big things with all the will in the world. I love that. I didn’t think a modern game could capture that, and I’m really impressed with the job they’ve done on the remake.
The tone is just right. I love Cloud, Tifa, Barret, Aerith and Red XIII. I love Midgar. I love Avalanche. I love Shinra. It’s all daft, and sweet, and doesn’t come off as too self-aware. I had no idea the script and voice cast would be nearly as funny as they are. I’m laughing with the game, and that only makes it easier to really sympathise with these characters and like them.
The new team seem to have an incredible affection for the original game, and it comes across in every background detail, minigame and character design choice they’ve re-realised in a huge 3D HD hardware-pushing PS4 release. I’d feel guilty running through the environments, thinking of how much time and effort was spent on the presentation, but the subtleties suggest that it was a cathartic experience for them to explore how all this stuff could exist in a more physical world. At one point in the game, Aerith explains that she doesn’t see Midgar as a collection of dirty slums, reasoning that she finds beauty in the result of all these different dreams and years of hard work coming together to create something bigger. I think she’s speaking on behalf of the developers.
The crucial thing is that Final Fantasy VII Remake plays brilliantly too. The combat is fast, fluid, and gorgeously animated, while losing none of the strategy or tension from the original game’s fights. Managing your party’s HP, MP and items is as important here as it ever was. I find the distinction between the characters much more exciting though. I remember seeing the game as a kid, and getting really thrilled with the concept of a massive fella with a gatling gun for an arm. I was later disappointed to find out it was all menu-driven and he played pretty much the same as the guy with the big sword, or the kickboxing girl. Now, Barrett feels like a massive fella with a gatling gun for an arm. Firing at distant sentries and swarming aerial creatures while Cloud swings his Buster Sword through groups of enemies on the ground with all the weight that its design would suggest. Maybe it comes to the detriment of the balancing, but it’s precisely what I wanted when I first saw those character designs.
In its closing moments, the game makes it clear that this isn’t going to follow the original game’s design too closely in its following entries. Even as an admitted Final Fantasy VII Remake apologist, I have my issues with some of the new stuff, and I’m a little nervous over the thought of the sequels they’re hinting at. It does come as a reminder that they have no intention of making the original game redundant, though. The developers love it. This is an opportunity to explore its ideas in a new way, and seeing how much I liked in this, I’m open to seeing where they take things next.
GOTY 2020 - NUMBER FIVE
Video version
Right, we’re through the iffy half. Now I’m just talking about games I really like. Here’s a belter.
Maybe you saw this on the eShop and thought, “Oh, that’s nice. Mr Driller’s on the Switch. I’m sure the fans are happy”. No! This is far more than that. This is the game that delivers on the potential of Mr Driller.
DrillLand doesn’t feel like it was meant to spend 18 years as a Japan-only Gamecube game. It’s a much bigger deal than that. It’s Namco, reflecting on their key strengths in the arcade scene, and figuring out how to utilise that in an industry that had shifted focus towards home consoles. These kinds of welcoming, attractive, high skill-ceiling games have been a bedrock for Namco in Japan, both in arcades and on console, but apart from Tekken, and perhaps Soulcalibur, Namco hadn’t really managed to convince most western console-owners that these games justified their prices. It’s a side of the company that has become much quieter since those days, as they’ve got through the last decade or so on the back of Bandai licenses and handling international publishing duties for smaller Japanese companies like Level-5 and From Software. The Nintendo Switch has given them much more confidence to explore their roots though.
With Katamari Damacy Reroll and Taiko no Tatsujin: Drum ‘n’ Fun, Europe finally became acquainted with two quintessentially “Namco” Namco games. Unique gameplay concepts explored through colourful, attractive visuals and backed by top-tier soundtracks. Mr Driller is one layer closer to the core of Namco. A sort of sequel series to maybe my favourite Namco game – Dig Dug – Mr Driller is born of 80s arcade design philosophy.
It’s a skill-based score attack game that rewards quick decisions and skillful action, and presents a concept that’s entirely its own. A cute wee game about drilling down through sets of coloured blocks without wasting too many actions, or you’ll run out of air. It’s a simple and inviting concept, but I didn’t really know how good it was until DrillLand explored all the different dynamics through its 6 main modes. Creating big block groups, navigating your way to alluring items, and avoiding overhead threats. It’s all stuff that gets richly explored in their own modes and develop your skill as a player. They’re not tutorials. They feel every bit as rich as the main game, and the ludicrous difficulty of the harder levels show how much there is to learn. Drindy Adventure is a personal favourite, bringing over Susumu’s dad, Taizo Hori from Dig Dug and presenting an Indiana Jones-inspired dig site filled with treasures and rolling boulders. It’s tense, cautious and thrilling, and it’s just one wee aspect of the game.
And the soundtrack? I’ve celebrated the mid-2000s Namco soundteam before, and the DrillLand music is every bit as good as anything you’d get from a Taiko no Tatsujin or Katamari Damacy game. It’s fantastic and shouldn’t be overlooked.
DrillLand is so far beyond the rest of the series. It’s the only Mr Driller game worth talking about now. Maybe you’re a little nervous, and you think you won’t get enough out of it. Want my advice? Dig a chance.
Video version
Right, we’re through the iffy half. Now I’m just talking about games I really like. Here’s a belter.
Maybe you saw this on the eShop and thought, “Oh, that’s nice. Mr Driller’s on the Switch. I’m sure the fans are happy”. No! This is far more than that. This is the game that delivers on the potential of Mr Driller.
DrillLand doesn’t feel like it was meant to spend 18 years as a Japan-only Gamecube game. It’s a much bigger deal than that. It’s Namco, reflecting on their key strengths in the arcade scene, and figuring out how to utilise that in an industry that had shifted focus towards home consoles. These kinds of welcoming, attractive, high skill-ceiling games have been a bedrock for Namco in Japan, both in arcades and on console, but apart from Tekken, and perhaps Soulcalibur, Namco hadn’t really managed to convince most western console-owners that these games justified their prices. It’s a side of the company that has become much quieter since those days, as they’ve got through the last decade or so on the back of Bandai licenses and handling international publishing duties for smaller Japanese companies like Level-5 and From Software. The Nintendo Switch has given them much more confidence to explore their roots though.
With Katamari Damacy Reroll and Taiko no Tatsujin: Drum ‘n’ Fun, Europe finally became acquainted with two quintessentially “Namco” Namco games. Unique gameplay concepts explored through colourful, attractive visuals and backed by top-tier soundtracks. Mr Driller is one layer closer to the core of Namco. A sort of sequel series to maybe my favourite Namco game – Dig Dug – Mr Driller is born of 80s arcade design philosophy.
It’s a skill-based score attack game that rewards quick decisions and skillful action, and presents a concept that’s entirely its own. A cute wee game about drilling down through sets of coloured blocks without wasting too many actions, or you’ll run out of air. It’s a simple and inviting concept, but I didn’t really know how good it was until DrillLand explored all the different dynamics through its 6 main modes. Creating big block groups, navigating your way to alluring items, and avoiding overhead threats. It’s all stuff that gets richly explored in their own modes and develop your skill as a player. They’re not tutorials. They feel every bit as rich as the main game, and the ludicrous difficulty of the harder levels show how much there is to learn. Drindy Adventure is a personal favourite, bringing over Susumu’s dad, Taizo Hori from Dig Dug and presenting an Indiana Jones-inspired dig site filled with treasures and rolling boulders. It’s tense, cautious and thrilling, and it’s just one wee aspect of the game.
And the soundtrack? I’ve celebrated the mid-2000s Namco soundteam before, and the DrillLand music is every bit as good as anything you’d get from a Taiko no Tatsujin or Katamari Damacy game. It’s fantastic and shouldn’t be overlooked.
DrillLand is so far beyond the rest of the series. It’s the only Mr Driller game worth talking about now. Maybe you’re a little nervous, and you think you won’t get enough out of it. Want my advice? Dig a chance.
GOTY 2020 - NUMBER FOUR
Video version
I’m sorry folks, but this I’m pretty much just talking to the Yakuza fans tonight.
For all the things to like about Yakuza, the most crucial aspect for keeping me engaged is how compelling its protagonists are. Seeing Saejima armed, literally, to the teeth in his introduction in 4 is what made me fall in love with the series in the first place. Whenever some shit went down, I was on the edge of my seat to see how Kazuma Kiryu would respond to it. That’s not something I could say for Tanimura or Shinada or Takayumi fucking Yagami, and my enjoyment of their stories suffered massively for it. That was my main concern as the Yakuza series confirmed it would continue without Kazuma. It’s a great relief to say that I really like Ichiban Kasuga, and for entirely different reasons than why I love Kazuma Kiryu.
See, Kasuga is a much more open-hearted character. More relatably human. He doesn’t leave his fists to do the talking. He’s emotional, expressive and silly. I worried that when the character was introduced, he was an attempt to play to the mainstream appreciation of the Yakuza series – That crazy Japanese game where a bunch of mad stuff was happening constantly. I don’t think that’s what he is now though. He’s a great protagonist for a Yakuza game that’s about being part of close-knit team.
Kazuma’s introversion suited the focus of the earlier games, and it made him funnier and more likable when he had to closely interact with other people. Yakuza: Like a Dragon wouldn’t have been a good fit for someone like him. This is about a tight wee team who open up to each other about their lives, their tastes and their ambitions. It’s writing that builds your investment in gameplay where you have to look out for each member of your party and use them effectively in fights. It helps to know why each character likes each other, and it’s fun to see how that plays throughout the story.
Yakuza 7 has lost none of the series’ appreciation for the mundane, and it’s the cast of new characters that really sell it. They’re the underclass, shunned by their families and employers, finding themselves in a rough point in their lives, and mistrustful of others. As they work together, help people, and open up to each other, they find purpose. And it all comes from Ichiban Kasuga’s childhood desire to become a Dragon Quest hero.
The Dragon Quest thing was something the game adopted surprisingly late in its development, but it’s the secret spice that ties the whole thing together. The RPG format really works well for Yakuza. A lot of the series was built on the back of JRPG conventions, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise that leaning into it trims a lot of a the fat. Yakuza’s always had weapon systems, but given how they limited your fighting style and broke after a handful of uses, it never felt worth the effort. In 7, weapons and items have tangible tactical utility in battle. Shops are distinct, useful and worth tracking down. The old systems were built for this, and it shows.
Yakuza 7 could be a new start for the series. I’d miss the old style, but that’s kind of what I want. Slotting someone else in Kazuma’s place wouldn’t be paying him due respect. This style is what works for these characters, and in turn, gives the player more investment in the gameplay. I’ve never considered myself much of an RPG guy, but Yakuza 7 does a great job of reminding me how much I can like them. When the game puts you in a dungeon area, I’m not only reminded of how much I love Yakuza’s big infiltration sequences, but how much I’ve loved dungeons in Final Fantasy and Dragon Quest games. The story about an orphaned hero chasing an enigmatic father-figure and fighting well-heeled rivals fits the genre perfectly. RPGs work for stories about groups of friends traveling to fight against secretive organisations filled with massive baddies. Yakuza makes a great RPG.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to love Yakuza after Kazuma’s story ended. Now I’ve been given a whole new cast of characters to root for, I’m filled with optimism for the future of the series. If they keep making them, I’ll keep playing them.
Video version
I’m sorry folks, but this I’m pretty much just talking to the Yakuza fans tonight.
For all the things to like about Yakuza, the most crucial aspect for keeping me engaged is how compelling its protagonists are. Seeing Saejima armed, literally, to the teeth in his introduction in 4 is what made me fall in love with the series in the first place. Whenever some shit went down, I was on the edge of my seat to see how Kazuma Kiryu would respond to it. That’s not something I could say for Tanimura or Shinada or Takayumi fucking Yagami, and my enjoyment of their stories suffered massively for it. That was my main concern as the Yakuza series confirmed it would continue without Kazuma. It’s a great relief to say that I really like Ichiban Kasuga, and for entirely different reasons than why I love Kazuma Kiryu.
See, Kasuga is a much more open-hearted character. More relatably human. He doesn’t leave his fists to do the talking. He’s emotional, expressive and silly. I worried that when the character was introduced, he was an attempt to play to the mainstream appreciation of the Yakuza series – That crazy Japanese game where a bunch of mad stuff was happening constantly. I don’t think that’s what he is now though. He’s a great protagonist for a Yakuza game that’s about being part of close-knit team.
Kazuma’s introversion suited the focus of the earlier games, and it made him funnier and more likable when he had to closely interact with other people. Yakuza: Like a Dragon wouldn’t have been a good fit for someone like him. This is about a tight wee team who open up to each other about their lives, their tastes and their ambitions. It’s writing that builds your investment in gameplay where you have to look out for each member of your party and use them effectively in fights. It helps to know why each character likes each other, and it’s fun to see how that plays throughout the story.
Yakuza 7 has lost none of the series’ appreciation for the mundane, and it’s the cast of new characters that really sell it. They’re the underclass, shunned by their families and employers, finding themselves in a rough point in their lives, and mistrustful of others. As they work together, help people, and open up to each other, they find purpose. And it all comes from Ichiban Kasuga’s childhood desire to become a Dragon Quest hero.
The Dragon Quest thing was something the game adopted surprisingly late in its development, but it’s the secret spice that ties the whole thing together. The RPG format really works well for Yakuza. A lot of the series was built on the back of JRPG conventions, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise that leaning into it trims a lot of a the fat. Yakuza’s always had weapon systems, but given how they limited your fighting style and broke after a handful of uses, it never felt worth the effort. In 7, weapons and items have tangible tactical utility in battle. Shops are distinct, useful and worth tracking down. The old systems were built for this, and it shows.
Yakuza 7 could be a new start for the series. I’d miss the old style, but that’s kind of what I want. Slotting someone else in Kazuma’s place wouldn’t be paying him due respect. This style is what works for these characters, and in turn, gives the player more investment in the gameplay. I’ve never considered myself much of an RPG guy, but Yakuza 7 does a great job of reminding me how much I can like them. When the game puts you in a dungeon area, I’m not only reminded of how much I love Yakuza’s big infiltration sequences, but how much I’ve loved dungeons in Final Fantasy and Dragon Quest games. The story about an orphaned hero chasing an enigmatic father-figure and fighting well-heeled rivals fits the genre perfectly. RPGs work for stories about groups of friends traveling to fight against secretive organisations filled with massive baddies. Yakuza makes a great RPG.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to love Yakuza after Kazuma’s story ended. Now I’ve been given a whole new cast of characters to root for, I’m filled with optimism for the future of the series. If they keep making them, I’ll keep playing them.
2020
GOTY 2020 - NUMBER THREE
Video version
I shouldn’t be an easy mark for this. For years, I’ve questioned whether scrolling beat ’em ups were actually any good, or if they were just dumb co-op knockabouts that got propped up by everything surrounding the gameplay. They were the tough guy games, with the best visuals and soundtracks, and they got a free pass for that. I used to love Streets of Rage II as a kid, but I didn’t really have much respect for the game in the years since. Not since games like God Hand and Dark Souls showed how none of those games scraped the potential provided by the combination of close combat and free movement, certainly. Somehow, Streets of Rage 4 – an outsourced indie sequel to a flawed 25 year-old Mega Drive title – is the game that saved the genre. And somehow, it accomplishes this with only subtle tweaks.
The flaw in these games was that you simply didn’t care. It was all about pushing on. Brute forcing your way through crowds of enemies, sucking up whatever unavoidable attacks they threw at you, and continuing until you either saw the credits or you died. Whichever. Barely makes any difference. Who cares.
Streets of Rage 4’s most obvious tweak to this is in how it incentivises combos. Attack enemies in rapid succession without taking a hit, and a large combo counter will appear on the screen. Higher combos lead to more points, which are the only way to earn extra lives. And you’ll need them. You can play with handicaps, such as starting with more lives and specials, but that’ll eat into your end-of-level score, in turn holding back a series of unlockables, and earning you a lower spot on the online leaderboards. It’s just a wee tweak to the formula, but it completely changes your attitude towards fights. You start exploring movesets, finding attacks that work well against different enemy types, and generally playing much more deliberately. Acting with intentional strategy. It adds so much to the game.
Then there’s the tweaks to how special moves work. Mind those on? You’d press A to do some big flashy move, but it would eat into your health, so you’d never bother? Aye, those have been fixed. Now, using a special move puts a wee bit of your health in jeopardy, but can be regained by attacking enemies without taking damage. Take a hit, and you lose all the HP you risked. Old Streets of Rage was basically a two-button game with an additional Steel Battalion-style suicide button. Now, special moves actually work within your strategy, and add to your options. Maybe there’s one big guy, surrounded by weak grunts. Do a big attack to knock him over, and use the wee guys to regain that health. It still feels like Streets of Rage, but a version of the game that the designers really thought about.
There’s all sorts of tweaks to the game that balances the classic feel with the new mechanics. Enemies can be hurt while flying through the air, and their bodies will bounce off the sides of the screen, offering opportunities for Tekken-style juggling combos. There’s now a dedicated button for picking up and throwing items, making it easier to use the full playfield, and make fewer accidents. The story mode now makes far more distinction between its levels, refreshing your extra lives each time, but also allowing you to restart and adjust your character and handicaps if you die. No longer will you play 50 minutes into the game and lose all your progress because you forgot to change the difficulty and extra lives at the start. It all adds up to a really elegant system that plays into what people love about Streets of Rage, while fixing all its problems.
I’ve spent so long talking about how meaningfully they’ve changed the gameplay fundamentals that I haven’t even talked about the only thing that most folk assumed people would be interested in – its relationship to the old Streets of Rage games. It almost doesn’t matter that they’ve done a beautiful job with it. It doesn’t matter that I used to obsess over quicktime videos of a cancelled Dreamcast game called “Streets of Rage 4”, and now I’m finally playing a game with that title. It doesn’t matter how sweetly and carefully they added to the established story, made deep cut visual references and jokes that feel entirely in-line with the Mega Drive games. I don’t want to hear anybody talking about Streets of Rage 2 anymore. This wipes the floor with it.
Video version
I shouldn’t be an easy mark for this. For years, I’ve questioned whether scrolling beat ’em ups were actually any good, or if they were just dumb co-op knockabouts that got propped up by everything surrounding the gameplay. They were the tough guy games, with the best visuals and soundtracks, and they got a free pass for that. I used to love Streets of Rage II as a kid, but I didn’t really have much respect for the game in the years since. Not since games like God Hand and Dark Souls showed how none of those games scraped the potential provided by the combination of close combat and free movement, certainly. Somehow, Streets of Rage 4 – an outsourced indie sequel to a flawed 25 year-old Mega Drive title – is the game that saved the genre. And somehow, it accomplishes this with only subtle tweaks.
The flaw in these games was that you simply didn’t care. It was all about pushing on. Brute forcing your way through crowds of enemies, sucking up whatever unavoidable attacks they threw at you, and continuing until you either saw the credits or you died. Whichever. Barely makes any difference. Who cares.
Streets of Rage 4’s most obvious tweak to this is in how it incentivises combos. Attack enemies in rapid succession without taking a hit, and a large combo counter will appear on the screen. Higher combos lead to more points, which are the only way to earn extra lives. And you’ll need them. You can play with handicaps, such as starting with more lives and specials, but that’ll eat into your end-of-level score, in turn holding back a series of unlockables, and earning you a lower spot on the online leaderboards. It’s just a wee tweak to the formula, but it completely changes your attitude towards fights. You start exploring movesets, finding attacks that work well against different enemy types, and generally playing much more deliberately. Acting with intentional strategy. It adds so much to the game.
Then there’s the tweaks to how special moves work. Mind those on? You’d press A to do some big flashy move, but it would eat into your health, so you’d never bother? Aye, those have been fixed. Now, using a special move puts a wee bit of your health in jeopardy, but can be regained by attacking enemies without taking damage. Take a hit, and you lose all the HP you risked. Old Streets of Rage was basically a two-button game with an additional Steel Battalion-style suicide button. Now, special moves actually work within your strategy, and add to your options. Maybe there’s one big guy, surrounded by weak grunts. Do a big attack to knock him over, and use the wee guys to regain that health. It still feels like Streets of Rage, but a version of the game that the designers really thought about.
There’s all sorts of tweaks to the game that balances the classic feel with the new mechanics. Enemies can be hurt while flying through the air, and their bodies will bounce off the sides of the screen, offering opportunities for Tekken-style juggling combos. There’s now a dedicated button for picking up and throwing items, making it easier to use the full playfield, and make fewer accidents. The story mode now makes far more distinction between its levels, refreshing your extra lives each time, but also allowing you to restart and adjust your character and handicaps if you die. No longer will you play 50 minutes into the game and lose all your progress because you forgot to change the difficulty and extra lives at the start. It all adds up to a really elegant system that plays into what people love about Streets of Rage, while fixing all its problems.
I’ve spent so long talking about how meaningfully they’ve changed the gameplay fundamentals that I haven’t even talked about the only thing that most folk assumed people would be interested in – its relationship to the old Streets of Rage games. It almost doesn’t matter that they’ve done a beautiful job with it. It doesn’t matter that I used to obsess over quicktime videos of a cancelled Dreamcast game called “Streets of Rage 4”, and now I’m finally playing a game with that title. It doesn’t matter how sweetly and carefully they added to the established story, made deep cut visual references and jokes that feel entirely in-line with the Mega Drive games. I don’t want to hear anybody talking about Streets of Rage 2 anymore. This wipes the floor with it.
GOTY 2020 - NUMBER TWO
Video version
Oh, so fucking toys are allowed on the list now? Right, look, I know, but this is a Mario Kart game. What do I think of the Grand Prix mode and AI opponents? Never mind that. What I like is making courses and doing time trials. I’m not interested in next gen games yet. The fanciness of a game’s visuals isn’t what excites me. It’s unique experiences, and Mario Kart Live certainly provides that.
There’s so much in this formula that appeals to me. I’m always going on about “wee guy” games, like Chibi-Robo or Micro Machines, where the gimmick is getting a new perspective on mundane domestic settings. I love that. Now make that game Mario Kart, and put it in my house with my stuff, and we’re talking about another thing entirely. And that’s without talking about how I always used to want a remote control car with a camera on it. I’d watch those bits of Home Alone 3 about an inch away from the screen. I thought I was being daft spending £100 on this on launch day, but now I have it, I feel daft for ever doubting I’d love it.
It’s the invitation to create a real-world Mario Kart game with whatever I want to use. Just driving a remote control car is fun. It’s more fun if you make a racecourse. It’s more fun if you can view the in-car perspective. It’s more fun if it looks, sounds and handles like Mario Kart.
I think the big thing is how refreshing it feels to have a game that doesn’t set its limitations. If you have an idea, you can put it together and try it out. If it doesn’t work, you learn from it. If it does, you’re granted exciting, tangible, real-world Mario Kart built to your specifications. For someone like me, there’s few better rewards than that. Try to come up with an idea for Mario Maker and you’ll come up against the restrictions of the grid, item placement, and object behavior again and again. Think of something for Mario Kart Live, and you just make it, and it’s there. If you don’t have the ideal obstacle or setpiece, you can go buy it or make it or rework what you have to masquerade as it. If you want to try it, nothing’s stopping you.
Games with physical components have always appealed to me, whether that takes the form of a lightgun or a Labo kit or a spinning Top Skater skateboard. Mario Kart Live might be the most physical videogame I’ve ever played (even if the software is download-only). It exists around you. If you’re in a good viewing spot, you can play it without looking at the screen. Making your home part of a videogame makes it more interesting. It’s an excuse to play around with it, and that’s quite welcome at a time when people are stuck indoors.
I love Mario Kart. I feel weirdly proud when I see it’s the best-selling game on three Nintendo systems in a row, or how it’s become a fundamental component of every arcade, or when I watch Tony Soprano playing it on TV. It’s become one of those games. As recognisable and synonymous with the medium as Super Mario Bros itself. I’m glad the series can take opportunities to do stuff as ambitious and out-there as Mario Kart Live, and it doesn’t feel like it’s ignoring the die hard fans at all. I don’t think this is Mario Kart 9, but I have no idea what that would be. I’m dying to find out.
Video version
Oh, so fucking toys are allowed on the list now? Right, look, I know, but this is a Mario Kart game. What do I think of the Grand Prix mode and AI opponents? Never mind that. What I like is making courses and doing time trials. I’m not interested in next gen games yet. The fanciness of a game’s visuals isn’t what excites me. It’s unique experiences, and Mario Kart Live certainly provides that.
There’s so much in this formula that appeals to me. I’m always going on about “wee guy” games, like Chibi-Robo or Micro Machines, where the gimmick is getting a new perspective on mundane domestic settings. I love that. Now make that game Mario Kart, and put it in my house with my stuff, and we’re talking about another thing entirely. And that’s without talking about how I always used to want a remote control car with a camera on it. I’d watch those bits of Home Alone 3 about an inch away from the screen. I thought I was being daft spending £100 on this on launch day, but now I have it, I feel daft for ever doubting I’d love it.
It’s the invitation to create a real-world Mario Kart game with whatever I want to use. Just driving a remote control car is fun. It’s more fun if you make a racecourse. It’s more fun if you can view the in-car perspective. It’s more fun if it looks, sounds and handles like Mario Kart.
I think the big thing is how refreshing it feels to have a game that doesn’t set its limitations. If you have an idea, you can put it together and try it out. If it doesn’t work, you learn from it. If it does, you’re granted exciting, tangible, real-world Mario Kart built to your specifications. For someone like me, there’s few better rewards than that. Try to come up with an idea for Mario Maker and you’ll come up against the restrictions of the grid, item placement, and object behavior again and again. Think of something for Mario Kart Live, and you just make it, and it’s there. If you don’t have the ideal obstacle or setpiece, you can go buy it or make it or rework what you have to masquerade as it. If you want to try it, nothing’s stopping you.
Games with physical components have always appealed to me, whether that takes the form of a lightgun or a Labo kit or a spinning Top Skater skateboard. Mario Kart Live might be the most physical videogame I’ve ever played (even if the software is download-only). It exists around you. If you’re in a good viewing spot, you can play it without looking at the screen. Making your home part of a videogame makes it more interesting. It’s an excuse to play around with it, and that’s quite welcome at a time when people are stuck indoors.
I love Mario Kart. I feel weirdly proud when I see it’s the best-selling game on three Nintendo systems in a row, or how it’s become a fundamental component of every arcade, or when I watch Tony Soprano playing it on TV. It’s become one of those games. As recognisable and synonymous with the medium as Super Mario Bros itself. I’m glad the series can take opportunities to do stuff as ambitious and out-there as Mario Kart Live, and it doesn’t feel like it’s ignoring the die hard fans at all. I don’t think this is Mario Kart 9, but I have no idea what that would be. I’m dying to find out.
GOTY 2020 - NUMBER ONE
Video version
There’s a reason why people were so fervently begging for Animal Crossing on the Switch- It’s home. A place we need to feel comfortable. A Nintendo console isn’t really ours until we can live there and make it our own. New Leaf players were probably the most ardent 3DS users, and we all became quite attached to our villages, but if we’re going to love the Switch, we have to start again. New Horizons does a great job of making players feel attached to their new homes. You have a hand in every aspect of your island, and by the time everything’s in order, it’s truly yours.
Animal Crossing isn’t a game that focuses on gamers, and a lot of what New Horizons has taken on board has been learned from casual games, but in a positive way. It’s quite sweet that Nintendo have looked at things like real-world construction times and rotating shop inventory, not as a thing to frustrate players into real-world purchases, but elements that bring a sense of occasion and anticipation. There’s no punishment for manipulating the Switch’s time settings if you want instant gratification, but I find your appreciation of Animal Crossing is heavily dependent on your willingness to play by its rules. New Horizons is a game that’s attractive and welcoming to those who might have only played a videogame on their telephone before. It’s not intended to be a gateway to Breath of the Wild or “real games”. It’s a real game for that audience.
Maybe the most welcome addition to the game’s mechanics is the infinite list of activities on your phone. Simple tasks like talking to three villagers, or catching a few insects. You’re rewarded for every task you complete. This isn’t “the gameplay”. There’s no challenge to it, but it assures you always have something to do if you’re intent on playing Animal Crossing beyond each day’s new content.
This isn’t about challenge. You can’t win or fail. It’s just a nice wee thing, and it only tries to be the nicest wee thing it can be. It’s a little game you can turn on and a cartoon octopus will thank you for being such a good friend. It’s silly and sweet, and there’s appeal to that beyond the typical criteria of a videogame.
After playing the game nearly every day since March 20th, it’s easy to take a lot of New Horizons for granted, but every now and then, that feeling of familiarity breaks and I’m stunned by how good it looks, or how much care and wit the dialogue was written with, or even subtle things like the intricacy of the sound design. It’s the first HD proper Animal Crossing game, and all 391 villagers look great, with lovely toy-like texturing details.
The series used to be one of Nintendo’s scruffier properties. Almost a bit of a joke. Not that it was crap, but it was reflective of the side of the company that made the Game Boy Camera software or hid away Totaka’s Song in control menus. It was weird and silly, and it gave you a furious telling off if you didn’t turn the game off the way it wanted you to. Shifting from N64-style character models to a softer and rounder look has definitely broadened the appeal, and I think that’s really positive, but the older, rougher games had a charm of their own that the developers clearly want to stay true to as well. I think what they have now is something that can really appeal to young kids and casual gamers, as well as the WarioWare weirdos like me.
Some of my favourite stuff in the game is designed specifically to provide kids with a good influence. If you go to the fossil gallery in the museum, there’s a wee trail linking ancestral creatures to their evolutionary descendants. As you go through the exhibit, the trails split off and lead to more creatures, eventually leading to all the species of the game’s villagers, and one human-shaped silhouette you can step in. It’s a lovely message about how we all share this connection, but linking it back to their exciting new animal friends invites kids to take more interest in zoology. It’s beautiful. I never expected Animal Crossing to become one of the games that make me emotional about Nintendo or video games’ influence on the world, but as a committed animal liker, I’m really touched to see it.
Animal Crossing appeals to folk who would never ordinarily buy another Nintendo game. It was almost accidental before, but Nintendo seem keenly aware of the diversity and range of its fanbase now, and have decided that people like that deserve games as polished and carefully assembled as the 3D Marios and Zeldas that they’ve been missing. It’s dug into why folk love it, and made the cutest, deepest and most enticingly habitual game that these world-class developers can make. I hope they know what they’ve done. They’ve turned Animal Crossing into an essential presence on each new Nintendo library. Long may it continue.
Video version
There’s a reason why people were so fervently begging for Animal Crossing on the Switch- It’s home. A place we need to feel comfortable. A Nintendo console isn’t really ours until we can live there and make it our own. New Leaf players were probably the most ardent 3DS users, and we all became quite attached to our villages, but if we’re going to love the Switch, we have to start again. New Horizons does a great job of making players feel attached to their new homes. You have a hand in every aspect of your island, and by the time everything’s in order, it’s truly yours.
Animal Crossing isn’t a game that focuses on gamers, and a lot of what New Horizons has taken on board has been learned from casual games, but in a positive way. It’s quite sweet that Nintendo have looked at things like real-world construction times and rotating shop inventory, not as a thing to frustrate players into real-world purchases, but elements that bring a sense of occasion and anticipation. There’s no punishment for manipulating the Switch’s time settings if you want instant gratification, but I find your appreciation of Animal Crossing is heavily dependent on your willingness to play by its rules. New Horizons is a game that’s attractive and welcoming to those who might have only played a videogame on their telephone before. It’s not intended to be a gateway to Breath of the Wild or “real games”. It’s a real game for that audience.
Maybe the most welcome addition to the game’s mechanics is the infinite list of activities on your phone. Simple tasks like talking to three villagers, or catching a few insects. You’re rewarded for every task you complete. This isn’t “the gameplay”. There’s no challenge to it, but it assures you always have something to do if you’re intent on playing Animal Crossing beyond each day’s new content.
This isn’t about challenge. You can’t win or fail. It’s just a nice wee thing, and it only tries to be the nicest wee thing it can be. It’s a little game you can turn on and a cartoon octopus will thank you for being such a good friend. It’s silly and sweet, and there’s appeal to that beyond the typical criteria of a videogame.
After playing the game nearly every day since March 20th, it’s easy to take a lot of New Horizons for granted, but every now and then, that feeling of familiarity breaks and I’m stunned by how good it looks, or how much care and wit the dialogue was written with, or even subtle things like the intricacy of the sound design. It’s the first HD proper Animal Crossing game, and all 391 villagers look great, with lovely toy-like texturing details.
The series used to be one of Nintendo’s scruffier properties. Almost a bit of a joke. Not that it was crap, but it was reflective of the side of the company that made the Game Boy Camera software or hid away Totaka’s Song in control menus. It was weird and silly, and it gave you a furious telling off if you didn’t turn the game off the way it wanted you to. Shifting from N64-style character models to a softer and rounder look has definitely broadened the appeal, and I think that’s really positive, but the older, rougher games had a charm of their own that the developers clearly want to stay true to as well. I think what they have now is something that can really appeal to young kids and casual gamers, as well as the WarioWare weirdos like me.
Some of my favourite stuff in the game is designed specifically to provide kids with a good influence. If you go to the fossil gallery in the museum, there’s a wee trail linking ancestral creatures to their evolutionary descendants. As you go through the exhibit, the trails split off and lead to more creatures, eventually leading to all the species of the game’s villagers, and one human-shaped silhouette you can step in. It’s a lovely message about how we all share this connection, but linking it back to their exciting new animal friends invites kids to take more interest in zoology. It’s beautiful. I never expected Animal Crossing to become one of the games that make me emotional about Nintendo or video games’ influence on the world, but as a committed animal liker, I’m really touched to see it.
Animal Crossing appeals to folk who would never ordinarily buy another Nintendo game. It was almost accidental before, but Nintendo seem keenly aware of the diversity and range of its fanbase now, and have decided that people like that deserve games as polished and carefully assembled as the 3D Marios and Zeldas that they’ve been missing. It’s dug into why folk love it, and made the cutest, deepest and most enticingly habitual game that these world-class developers can make. I hope they know what they’ve done. They’ve turned Animal Crossing into an essential presence on each new Nintendo library. Long may it continue.
1996
Jobby Bazookatone
1998
At this point, Konami can't make a move without causing a controversy, especially with Metal Gear fans. But my PS1 shelves are already full, so I have to thank them for allowing me to experience all the European dubs without having to buy a 5th, 6th, 7th and 8th copy of PS1 Metal Gear Solid.
When you're as deep in the hole as I am, the idea of playing the entire thing through in French actually sounds like a compelling proposition. I'm quite impressed by how seriously late-90s KCEJ approached an international release. It wasn't common to see much beyond French and German options in PAL releases, and very few games had as much writing in them as MGS1 did. Especially not spoken dialogue. Sequels stripped back on localisation efforts, with only Japanese and English audio tracks, but every single line in MGS1 had been recorded in Japanese, English, French, German, Italian and Spanish. It's interesting to hear the game with different voice direction. Some of the cutscenes play a little differently with the unique interpretations of each relationship. Without exception, I think all the female characters in French MGS1 sound really great, though many of the boys lose a lot of their nuance. Like the Japanese version, Liquid mainly just sounds like a big tough guy, lacking some of the pompousness and elegance of Cam Clarke's performance. I was really looking forward to French Revolver Ocelot, but he mainly just sounds like some old geezer. Jim Houseman didn't even sound particularly well recorded. French Snake has moments of brilliance, but his delivery is a little one-note, lacking some of Akio Ohtsuka and David Hayter's range. For my money, Mei Ling is the real stand-out among the French cast, sounding much bouncier and more excitable. I never would have expected a world-class designer of military technology to sound so... cute.
I think the biggest issue with this release is in its visual presentation. I'm completely on the side of whoever decided to stick with the PS1's 240p rendering, with reverence to the original team's approach to presentation, but I don't think it's scaling to HD resolutions correctly. The visuals are far below the standard of a PS1 with a clean RGB output, with the Master Collection release blurring over the dithered texturework that I love so dearly. It's perhaps closer to the composite signal that the majority of players will be used to, but I've grown to associate the game with a much cleaner image. Apparently this port is from M2, most widely known for their brilliant SEGA AGES releases, but I think this is their first time working with a PS1 game, and the lack of tweakable emulation settings may be the result of that. Scanlines are reportedly on their way via a patch, but I really hope display settings go much further than that. Throw in a Duckstation-style hi-res mode for the kiddiwinks if you must, but please give me a mode that presents those original 76,800 pixels as sharply as possible.
The extras in the pack aren't all that exciting. I've heard alternating reports of what the "Master Book" actually is, with some claiming it's a new English version of an old Konami MGS1 book. No. It's new. The fact that it's new might actually be the most interesting thing about it, as it presents the series' timeline with knowledge of all the retcons and inconsistencies that have been injected into the series up to the end of The Phantom Pain. There's even a page that bluntly explains everything that's said about Ocelot's backstory in MGS1 is a bare-faced lie. This is "the official version" of the series' story, although I'd never suggest that those who play Metal Gear 1 for the first time today ought to be thinking about Major Zero and Venom Snake. The book's fine, though its presentation is a little closer to a modern Konami website than a Japan-only 1998 MGS1 book, which would typically be filled with bespoke artwork, debug-mode screenshots of each environment, and often, interviews with the game's key staff. There's a lot of notes on secrets and checklists to follow through the game, but it can't be accessed while you're playing, so it could be a little more useful.
The script book is a little cooler. There have been officially-released script books for MGS1, 2, 3, 4 and Peace Walker in Japan, though I think western fans are being presumptuous about the vintage of these. They're based on the games' English localisations, and I'd assume the direction notes are newly-written, as opposed to insight into how the games were originally written. I'm pretty sure the Metal Gear 1 & 2 script books are entirely the result of someone playing the games and transcribing all the text, instead of someone digging into Kojima's decades-old production notes. Nonetheless, they're still pretty neat. It's nice to have easy access to all the CODEC conversations without having to experiment with every single variable in the games to potentially trigger alternate dialogue. It would have been cooler if you could access each of the scenes - with their audio - from within the book, but that would have been much more of a logistical nightmare.
The Master Collection release of MGS1 is a pretty cool package for hardcore fans of the game, and it does the job of bringing MGS1 to new hardware for less demanding players, too. It's not the end-all, be-all definitive release that some seem convinced they're entitled to, but I'm satisfied enough with all the things it does to stop myself from buying those alternate PAL discs. That's an achievement. If you're not rabid enough to have bought it already, either wishlist it on the platform you find most appealing, until it's inevitably on sale for a good discount, or stick with an emulator you already like. There's not much real value in investing in the wider online discourse.
When you're as deep in the hole as I am, the idea of playing the entire thing through in French actually sounds like a compelling proposition. I'm quite impressed by how seriously late-90s KCEJ approached an international release. It wasn't common to see much beyond French and German options in PAL releases, and very few games had as much writing in them as MGS1 did. Especially not spoken dialogue. Sequels stripped back on localisation efforts, with only Japanese and English audio tracks, but every single line in MGS1 had been recorded in Japanese, English, French, German, Italian and Spanish. It's interesting to hear the game with different voice direction. Some of the cutscenes play a little differently with the unique interpretations of each relationship. Without exception, I think all the female characters in French MGS1 sound really great, though many of the boys lose a lot of their nuance. Like the Japanese version, Liquid mainly just sounds like a big tough guy, lacking some of the pompousness and elegance of Cam Clarke's performance. I was really looking forward to French Revolver Ocelot, but he mainly just sounds like some old geezer. Jim Houseman didn't even sound particularly well recorded. French Snake has moments of brilliance, but his delivery is a little one-note, lacking some of Akio Ohtsuka and David Hayter's range. For my money, Mei Ling is the real stand-out among the French cast, sounding much bouncier and more excitable. I never would have expected a world-class designer of military technology to sound so... cute.
I think the biggest issue with this release is in its visual presentation. I'm completely on the side of whoever decided to stick with the PS1's 240p rendering, with reverence to the original team's approach to presentation, but I don't think it's scaling to HD resolutions correctly. The visuals are far below the standard of a PS1 with a clean RGB output, with the Master Collection release blurring over the dithered texturework that I love so dearly. It's perhaps closer to the composite signal that the majority of players will be used to, but I've grown to associate the game with a much cleaner image. Apparently this port is from M2, most widely known for their brilliant SEGA AGES releases, but I think this is their first time working with a PS1 game, and the lack of tweakable emulation settings may be the result of that. Scanlines are reportedly on their way via a patch, but I really hope display settings go much further than that. Throw in a Duckstation-style hi-res mode for the kiddiwinks if you must, but please give me a mode that presents those original 76,800 pixels as sharply as possible.
The extras in the pack aren't all that exciting. I've heard alternating reports of what the "Master Book" actually is, with some claiming it's a new English version of an old Konami MGS1 book. No. It's new. The fact that it's new might actually be the most interesting thing about it, as it presents the series' timeline with knowledge of all the retcons and inconsistencies that have been injected into the series up to the end of The Phantom Pain. There's even a page that bluntly explains everything that's said about Ocelot's backstory in MGS1 is a bare-faced lie. This is "the official version" of the series' story, although I'd never suggest that those who play Metal Gear 1 for the first time today ought to be thinking about Major Zero and Venom Snake. The book's fine, though its presentation is a little closer to a modern Konami website than a Japan-only 1998 MGS1 book, which would typically be filled with bespoke artwork, debug-mode screenshots of each environment, and often, interviews with the game's key staff. There's a lot of notes on secrets and checklists to follow through the game, but it can't be accessed while you're playing, so it could be a little more useful.
The script book is a little cooler. There have been officially-released script books for MGS1, 2, 3, 4 and Peace Walker in Japan, though I think western fans are being presumptuous about the vintage of these. They're based on the games' English localisations, and I'd assume the direction notes are newly-written, as opposed to insight into how the games were originally written. I'm pretty sure the Metal Gear 1 & 2 script books are entirely the result of someone playing the games and transcribing all the text, instead of someone digging into Kojima's decades-old production notes. Nonetheless, they're still pretty neat. It's nice to have easy access to all the CODEC conversations without having to experiment with every single variable in the games to potentially trigger alternate dialogue. It would have been cooler if you could access each of the scenes - with their audio - from within the book, but that would have been much more of a logistical nightmare.
The Master Collection release of MGS1 is a pretty cool package for hardcore fans of the game, and it does the job of bringing MGS1 to new hardware for less demanding players, too. It's not the end-all, be-all definitive release that some seem convinced they're entitled to, but I'm satisfied enough with all the things it does to stop myself from buying those alternate PAL discs. That's an achievement. If you're not rabid enough to have bought it already, either wishlist it on the platform you find most appealing, until it's inevitably on sale for a good discount, or stick with an emulator you already like. There's not much real value in investing in the wider online discourse.