Im not a big fan of Telltale or this style of game, and Borderlands only barely works in this format - but Tales From The Borderlands is captivating for one real reason: it is meta-commentary. I have no clue if its on purpose but Rhys running around haunted by the literal ghost of Handsome Jack seems to curiously mirror how the series struggled to get out from under the shadow of Jack itself. Its a very poetic observation.

Its even more poetic considering that it doesnt seem like its worked out for Borderlands as a franchise quite as well as it did for Rhys. I also personally mourn the loss of mystique for Hyperion, made all too mortal and comprehensible by the events of Tales (made partially as a companion to the events of Pre-Sequel). Something of a bittersweet feeling emerges here: yes, Tales From The Borderlands is entertaining but its also…. not really Borderlands.

I adore so many of the things this game has going for it, but I just can't cope with the drudgery. Wedged in between all interactions with Baten Kaitos are pregnant pauses - forced to wait repeated five-second intervals for things like a character to slide onto their mark and grace you with their dishwater dialogue box, exploring the world map or going through the combat. It's just too slow & it breaks my heart because the meat n potatoes here is really cool.

At BK's core is a deckbuilding rpg ordeal with the devil in its details. I really enjoyed my time with the half of Disk 1 I could feasibly play before becoming comatose, because every few screens served some kind of insane revelation as to how the game actually works. Not only do you need to negotiate with a limited deck size to allot your battle abilities - weapons, spells, items etc., you're also limited in how many quest items you can carry. Quite literally everything in the game you can pick up becomes entrapped within a card you have to shuffle and thumb through, it's a fun obfuscation of the normal menu system! Where things get really devious is the point where you realise the milk quest item you stored at an earlier point has curdled into yogurt because you took too long travelling between locations - your ice blades have thawed and are now a useless basic dagger. There is a combo system in which certain cards used in specific orders trigger special effects, and this is extended to seemingly(??) mundane objects, like spending a turn mid battle to use a knife to trim a bonsai tree you found. It's all very satisfyingly scrappy, I desperately wish it wouldn't take days out of my life to simply experiment with the toys it has given me. I thought Monolith Soft were openly hostile to completionists with the deluge of sidequests in Xenoblade, but this game reads like a ransom note to anyone with OCD. I looked it up and Oh My God there are so many fucking evil missables and one-offs.

The presentation is particularly beguiling, the similarities to FF9 are hard for me to ignore. Gorgeous mist-laiden high fantasy setting with surprisingly good monster and character designs. The backgrounds are all pieces of pre-rendered or sketched artwork with noticeable variation in quality. Sometimes you'd be looking at painterly postcard chic and one screen transition over you're in Hyrule Town. It becomes a juggernaut of beauty whenever the environment calls for some kind of cloudy sheen, honestly some of the most sublime 2d effect work I've ever seen, my jaw repeatedly hit the floor at all things waterfall. I'd share a million screenshots, but they don't do justice to what looks unparalleled in motion.

Really want to say stuff about the story but it'd mostly just be speculation, I'll probably never finish this. We're heavily leaning on angel wings in our theming here and I can't help but gobble that stuff up.

There are few things in gaming that I love more than stumbling upon an honest-to-god hidden gem. Vessels is a 2020 sci-fi horror narrative game where you play as the alien entity disguising itself as a crew member aboard a space vessel. Think The Thing, but less body horror. The game plays with the time loop by learning a little bit more about the ship, the crew, and their situation as time goes on and you're jettisoned out of the airlock. You start not even knowing your crewmates' names, but that all gets picked up in between deaths.

The core loop of the game is dialog and exploiting your crewmates' anxieties and shortcomings to get what you want, to get closer to releasing you from the quarantine airlock. You still maintain some sense of your former consciousness, but it's in parallel to this cosmic entity that feels akin to a fledgling god.

It's really fascinating stuff and I was gripped from start to finish. I think anyone with an interest in experimental game narratives and/or space horror would really enjoy their time here. Bear in mind – it's absolutely not a horror game, rather a dialog-driven adventure game with horror trappings and themings.

The best part is, the game's just $0.99 so it's one of the easiest recommendations I can make.

What I can never fault Ring Racers for is its ambition. Its environments are lovely, well realized, and expand on familiar Sonic zones and trappings in a way that accentuates every single track. It's a mechanically rich game with a bunch of different systems to compensate for every idea it has. It loads you with objectives and a glut of content that is mind boggling to begin to tackle. In all senses, it is a love letter to the legacy of Sonic and the fan game community that has sprung up around him, and takes every opportunity to remind you of its fan game status that it absolutely relishes. As a celebration and collection, Ring Racers is absolutely sublime.

Getting there tends to be the trickier issue. Much has been said about the game's intro, and while I find the dialogue and overall presentation of the tutorial very charming, I do find it a very misguided intro to the game. The mechanics taught in the tutorial are often used very sparingly across the actual races, and even those used often like drifting are used in different, shorter-form contexts than the tutorial would imply. It practically posits Ring Racers as an entirely different game and experience compared to what it actually is, and it goes on doing that for quite a while!

The actual races themselves vary in quality drastically depending on the track layout. Ring Racers can be absolutely vicious with its track designs, with hazards feeling devastating as they can easily combo into other hazards or items that toss you around like a pinball. This can be DEVASTATING on slopes, which require Sonic's vaunted momentum to get up and are aided by the ring system, letting you increase your speed a little bit per ring used. This should present some level of risk/reward; do you use your rings on straightaways to burst ahead, or save them for slopes as a means of recovery to maintain position? Unfortunately, rings are plentiful to a fault, and computer opponents (ESPECIALLY your rival character) are want to use them whenever possible to ludicrous speed increases, so rings become less strategic unless you're specifically saving them for chaos emerald bonuses in Grand Prix standings and more "I hope this part of the track also has rings". And when it doesn't... well you have the spin dash to get you out of the worst of things, but it feels pretty rough.

Drifting is also highly committal compared to rings, meaning that all alternate forms of speed are just kinda secondary to the immediate allure of the rings, which do not have enough risk to them to make the immediate reward not always a pull. This is compounded by items, which use the same button as using rings and, thus, often get in the way of progress more often than they help, especially considering how avoidable most offensive items tend to be as they struggle to interact with the steep sloped terrain of Ring Racers! I feel that individual race courses struggle to decide if they want to play nice with Ring Racers' systems or want to struggle against them, and very few of them are properly in line with the expectations set by the tutorial. It makes for a very uneven experience where a single bad spill on the last lap is both really debilitating and could not be entirely your fault, with means of consistent recovery not entirely present as opponents can keep padding their lead with rings and the comeback items are either unweildy to use, especially in a bad headspace, or inaccurate.

There are moments where Ring Racers does put everything together. Zones like Emerald Coast, Withering Chateau, Opulence, Regal Ruin, and Joypolis show DRRR at its best, with a consistent sense of flow, opportunities to best use shortcuts, and a great feel for combining the drift and ring mechanics. But for every one of them, there's a Marble Garden just asking for the player to try and break it in two before it breaks them. It lacks the kindness of kart racers like Mario, fails to commit to its individual mechanics like F-Zero, and does not string its systems together in nearly as seamless away as Crash, Diddy Kong, or even other Sonic racing titles manage. Ring Racers is its own, unforgiving beast that I can't say I had a bad time with, but it feels a bit overtuned for all it wants to strive for; a love letter that needed an editor, but how do you say "turn down the passion?" I like and respect it, I'll come back to keep pecking away at its wide breadth of content. But man I STILL haven't unlocked Whisper and don't even have a clue on how to get her, and I sincerely hope she's in the character class I like otherwise I'm gonna be real sad.

As much as I'd like to hold my standards up as a sophist and tastemaker of the Garts (game arts), the fact of the matter is that a cheap trick and lack of price tag can get me through the door and into the trough pretty easily. Enter Splitgate, an open game beta whose design document and elevator pitch practically locked fingers and skipped off into the war-scorched skybox lining its horizon.

Though let's be real, if you are of the Halo generation and, like me, mysteriously developed the aptitude for this style of ambling arena shooter by simply being 13 at the correct time, "Halo mixed with Portal" hits with a certain immediacy. Those with eyes in the audience may glean just how vital is was to the devs of Splitgate to crib Bungie's particular brand of gunplay, down to the arsenal having a big laser that takes a second of charging to fire. Like I said: cheap tricks - if you just want to play Halo multiplayer without paying for it, this honestly isn't that bad of an option in that "flash game recreation of Worms" kinda way.

But hey, that's not what we're here for! We saw a random Twitter video of someone wiping a team by firing through a portal blindly, right? Unfortunately, it's not as brash as the elevator pitch has you think. Each of the maps have specific blue walls which accept your portals and like, I GET IT, it's "tactical" and "balanced" but it's also not the clownshow I was hoping for! However, one very specific mechanic of the portals ends up making them work for me: even if you see a tiny sliver of a blue wall, firing a portal there will stick, congruity be damned. What this means is that your aim and map awareness have to be perfect constantly - not just in combat, but even when navigating. Once you get the feel for it, you can be incredibly oppressive in your map presence in a way that almost completely erases that aforementioned Halo sluggishness (plus you can physics-problem your way through portals at lightning speed, too! If this game didn't have that, I would've refunded it).

All that said, I'm probably done playing this for now though? I managed to ignore it up to this point, but Splitgate may be the absolute nadir of F2P visual taste. They're trying to monetize the most basic bitch UE4 aesthetic, and folks: it is clear that someone on this team calls their computer a "rig". It is littered with markings of the genre, and I'm growing tired of shaking the ick off of me every time I exit this game, especially with the added layer of "Razer RGB keyboard" blinding me. That said, I see the appeal and don't blame anyone for taking to it. It may be exactly what it sets out to be, but hey, it's exactly what it sets out to be.

this is my second completion of the game and it's still as funny as ever. i think there's a pretty decent replayability factor and you can find new phrases and things you may not have noticed in your first playthrough.

the pixel art and music is still nice to look at, even after thirty years. also, if you like deadpan humor and/or cartoon violence, this might be up your alley. same if you love furries of the openly gay kind. i can't even say ambiguously because sam will say a man or a woman isn't his type and max doesn't even like girls.

Holy shit, what a fucking funny game. Really charming, full of fun characters and events. Especially catered towards me with its slight crude humor and full-on stupidity. Still, a very 90's point-and-click though, with knowing what to do next being almost impossible sometimes, but hey, that's what the game genre was like back then, can't completely fault Sam & Max for that.

Short and sweet with lots of more obscene humor. Fun mini-games outside of the point-and-click aspect as well with the highway and carnival games. If you want to try a classic 90's point-and-click with some off-color humor, then I can't recommend this game enough for you.

I think Sam & Max are the most gay-coded characters ever created and I honestly could not tell you why. Maybe its the suit and the height difference.

Anyway, it boggles my mind just how effortlessly and hilariously witty this game is. I feel like a lot the time attempts at comedy through fourth wall breaks and quippy witicisms come off as really forced and groan-worthy, but Sam & Max are able to pull it off so well. Their dynamic, wordy banter, disregard for the law and morality, and gleefully cynical outlook on the world is just delightful and makes the humor really work. It's paired with absolutely sublime art direction and animation to boot. Sometimes the puzzles are fairly obtuse, but I think that's the price you have to pay with some of these older adventure games.

Oh, Sonic Adventure 2...

At first, the shift from hub worlds to linear storytelling was a change I had to get used to - the pace of doing levels back to back feels way different from walking around Station Square aimlessly to get to the next stage and I didn't like how it felt here. However, my stance changed about halfway through the HERO story (which I played first), and I began to appreciate the storytelling of the sequel over SA1, because you get the story (on your side atleast) told in chronological order without having to puzzle it together and you constantly switch characters, so it doesn't get boring. So on the HERO side you're already getting a full story about Sonic and his friends alone, but the villains are contextualized in the DARK story. Personally, I preferred the DARK story, it just felt like the more complete package overall and the cast is more interesting.

As for the gameplay, Adventure 2 brought some noticeable changes to the Treasure Hunt stages, put an extended focus on mech levels (which play similar to Gamma from SA1) and also changes the physics and controls a bit from the first game - nothing worse than no longer being able to overly rely on Sonic's spindash, as it's not overpowered anymore. You get used to it fast, but that was a death sentence in the first hours of playing! Concerning the Treasure Hunt stages... I'm not a fan of what they did to the radar, the beeping noise is even more obnoxious (and louder) than before and only having the shards show up in a set order is frustrating. However, sometime during Knuckles' final level it came to me that I've developed stockholm syndrome towards the Treasure Hunt gameplay and after reflecting and replaying the Knuckles stages again, I had a lot more fun with them than before. They're an acquired taste, a guilty pleasure.

You know what else is guilty of being TOO LOUD? The mech levels - just hold down the lock-on button and you'll get a free trial of tinnitus, all while you've got a full Michael Bay movie with thirteen different kinds of explosions going down in the background. Weapons Bed might actually be one of the loudest levels I have ever played in ANY game. It's not like the audio mixing was good to begin with, the volume of sound effects during regular gameplay is so comically overtuned and you might as well believe the conversations in cutscenes were recorded during a rave by how often the voices get drowned out by the music. But generally, the soundtrack of Adventure 2 really delivers. Favorite songs are Escape from the City, Live & Learn and E.G.G.M.A.N.

Not much more to say, except that I missed out on the Chao Garden in this playthrough entirely, just because I had no clue how to hatch the eggs. A shame, cause that's apparently a big aspect of the game - so I'll be sure to check it out sometime. What else, Shadow and Rogue are awesome and this game is a blast to play despite the issues. I'm considering bumping it up to five stars if the Chao part of the game turns out to be good. It's just chaotic and fun.

In which other game can you experience Tails using his special move of crashing the game twice after telling Eggman how powerful he is? I can't think of one.

Ico is the type of game I dread to play, critically acclaimed, landmark classic of the medium, influenced various games and designers I love. I dread playing those because of a fear I have, a fear that's come true : I don't like ICO, in fact, I think I might hate ICO. And now I will have to carry that like a millstone around my neck, "that asshole who doesn't like ICO". Its not even really that external disapproval I dread, its the very reputation that causes me to second guess my own sincerely held opinions. I thought I liked minimalism in game design, and cut-scene light storytelling and relationships explored through mechanics but I guess I don't. There's some kinda dissonance, cognitive or otherwise reading reviews by friends and writers I respect and wondering if there's something wrong with me or if I didnt get it or played it wrong or any other similar foolishness that gets bandied around in Internet discussions. "I wish we could have played the same game" I think, reading my mutuals' reviews of ICO. Not in a dismissive asshole way of accusing them of having a warped perception, but moreso in frustration that I didnt have the experience that has clearly touched them and countless others.

But enough feeling sorry for myself/being insecure, what is my problem with ICO exactly? I don't really know. Genuinely. I wasnt even planning on writing a review originally because all it would come down to as my original unfiltered reaction would be "Playing it made me miserable". Thankfully the upside of minimalism in game design is that its easier to identify which elements didnt work for me because there are few in the game. I think the people who got the most out of ICO developed some kind of emotional connection to Yorda, and thats one aspect which absolutely didn't work for me. As nakedly "gamey" and transparently artificial as Fallout New Vegas' NPCs (and Skyrim and F3 etc) locking the camera to have a dialogue tree, they read to me as infinitely more human than the more realistic Yorda; for a few reasons. Chief among them is that despite some hiccups and bugs the game is known for, you are not asked to manage them as a gameplay mechanic beyond your companions and well, my main interaction with Yorda was holding down R1 to repeatedly yell "ONG VA!" so she'd climb down the fucking ladder. She'd climb down, get halfway through and then decide this was a bad idea and ascend again.

ICO has been to me a game of all these little frustrations piling up. Due to the nature of the puzzles and platforming, failing them was aggravating and solving them first try was merely unremarkable. It makes me question again, what is the value of minimalism genuinely? There was a point at which I had to use a chain to jump across a gap and I couldnt quite make it, I thought "well, maybe theres a way to jump farther" and started pressing buttons randomly until the circle button achieved the result of letting me use momentum to swing accross. Now, if instead a non-diegetic diagram of the face buttons had shown up on the HUD instead what would have been lost? To me, very little. Sure, excessive direction can be annoying and take me out of the game, but pressing buttons randomly did the same, personally. Nor did "figuring it out for myself" feel particularly fulfilling. Thats again what I meant, victories are unremarkable and failures are frustrating. The same can be said for the combat which, honestly I liked at first. I liked how clumsy and childish the stick flailing fighting style was, but ultimately it involved hitting the enemies over and over and over and over again until they stopped spawning. Thankfully you can run away at times and rush to the exit to make the enemies blow up but the game's habit of spawning them when you're far from Yorda or maybe when she's on a different platform meant that I had to rely on her stupid pathfinding to quickly respond (which is just not going to happen, she needs like 3 business days to execute the same thing we've done 5k times already, I guess the language barrier applies to pattern recognition as well somehow) and when it inevitably failed I would have to jump down and mash square until they fucked off.

I can see the argument that this is meant to be disempowering somehow but I don't really buy it. Your strikes knock these fuckers down well enough, they just keep getting back up. Ico isnt strong, he shouldnt be able to smite these wizard of oz monkeys with a single swing, but then why can they do no damage to ICO and get knocked down flat with a couple swings? Either they are weak as hell but keep getting remotely CPRd by the antagonist or they're strong but have really poor balance. In the end, all I could really feel from ICO was being miserable. I finished the game in 5 hours but it felt twice that. All I can think of now is that Im glad its done and I can tick it off the bucket list. I am now dreading playing shadow of the colossus even harder, and I don't think I ever want to play The Last Guardian, it just looks like ICO but even more miserable. I'm sure I've outed myself as an uncultured swine who didnt get the genius of the experience and will lose all my followers but I'm too deflated to care. If there is one positive to this experience is that I kept procrastinating on finishing the game that I got back into reading. I read The Name of the Rose and Rumble Fish, pretty good reads. Im going to read Winesburg Ohio next I think.

Certainly not lost on me how shallow my revisit of LBP1 was. This was something of a childhood fave of mine I threw countless hours at; be it in couch co-op with fwiends or alone in my room exploring the avalanche of user-created content people spun together. Neither of which was a factor in me revisiting it for the first time in well over a decade now (jezus farckin christ!!!!), the servers are long gone and I’d need to be the richest man alive to bribe someone to play this with me over a cocktail of Parsec + RPCS3 input lag. Nobody will ever understand the joy of slapping the aztec cock motif on your co-op partners’ faces siiiighghhh…. Still, an illuminating experience that rekindled something in my heart about what LBP1 stood for!

Admittedly, I was always more of an LBP2 kid, these games being modular meant there was very little reason to revisit the first game once the sequel came out. There is a very strong difference in vibes between the two games though, if LBP1 excels at anything, it’s in encouraging the player to go off and create for themselves. It’s kind of wild the extent to which LBP1 offers and explains its tools to the player - its relatively simple levels make no effort to hide the gadgets that make ingame events work. Stages are littered with visible emitters, tags, switches, stuff like only-slightly offscreen circuitry that you can watch move around to inform a boss of its attack patterns and phases. It feels like a child’s art project or something, a simple array of pulleys and string animating rudimentary creatures and swings. It’s all so laid bare, I kind of adore it, and is certainly a handcrafted energy that LBP2 loses in its explosion of visual polish. The constant delivery of decorations, objects, prebuilt things you can make your own edits of, it’s no wonder this game blew up in the way it did - it’s with you every step of the way and always acts as a shockingly good teacher for its own mechanics.

Anyway this was a lot of fun. Unquestionably a hilarious platforming title to insist upon having no-death run rewards when so much of your survivability hinges on Sackboy’s physics-based astrology. You don’t realise how much nostalgia you have for something until the first thirty seconds of a song makes you tear up. This kind of williamsburg scrapbook aesthetic is hard to stomach nowadays but it really works here. Holy shit I can’t believe the racist caricatures this game has in every corner, this truly is a quintessentially British game.