Chances are if you google the first two Metal Gear games at all, you will see a lot of posts and articles asking the same question: "Should you play them before Metal Gear Solid?" Or even "Should you play them at all?" I think there's a very simple answer to both of these questions and that is yes, you absolutely should play them, but not before the others. Weird, I know, but let me explain.

I went into the first Metal Gear with a sense of resigned duty almost. Everything I'd heard about it and my own warped sense of completionism had reduced the game to a perverse form of gamer homework. Something I had to play, not that I wanted to play. I was expecting a dull, repetitive and frustrating experience, antiquated and borderline unplayable, but in the end, I was pleasantly surprised. The first Metal Gear is a great game, especially in the context of its release year (1987! Nearly forty years ago!). It's visually charming, the music is good, the gameplay is fun and it's surprisingly complex. Definitely not without its frustrations, but easily one of the best games from the eighties that I had ever played.

Now along comes its successor. Metal Gear 2: Solid Snake. Famously created in response to the bastardised NES port of the original receiving its own followup, what's here is a fascinating step in Kojima's journey as a game designer. Metal Gear 2 is an upgrade in every sense of the word, with better visuals, fantastic music and truly deep mechanics. The technical prowess on display here is staggering, it almost feels like an indie demake of one of the later MGS entries. Enemies now have 45 degree vision cones and will inspect suspicious noises. The tools you have at your disposal are impressively varied (though similarly to other Metal Gear games you likely won't use most of them), guards will move from screen to screen indepedent of where you are, and there's a hell of a lot of text dedicated to the narrative, a lot of really well written. It's 1990 and in this supposedly silly, sneaking action game are some really profound words on the nature of war and what it means to be a soldier, or to be born into a battlefield.

Well I've sufficiently answered why you should play Metal Gear 2, but not why you shouldn't before its successors. It's simple enough, Metal Gear 2 is the blueprint for Metal Gear Solid in a lot of ways. So much of the structure and level design of MGS is stripped right from here, to the point where it almost feels like a remake of this game. Noticing those similarities in the structure is one of the more significant motivators I had to finish this game, especially as the backtracking becomes egregious at its latter half, and that simply won't be part of your experience if you haven't played at least Solid first.

As I've hinted just there, Solid Snake is by no means perfect. The combat is improved but it still feels clunky and often arbitrary. The backtracking becomes truly awful, with the game asking you to trek all the way from the very end all the way to the beginning (and back again) before it permits you to see its finale. There are some truly bullshit instakills too, and a lot of the puzzles are beyond cryptic. A walkthrough is borderline mandatory if only to look up the frequencies and tap code chart that would normally be found in the manual, but some of these puzzles are so silly that there's no sense trying to work them out without help.

All that said, I do think Metal Gear 2 is really impressive and I had a great time with it. It's by no means the best entry in the series, but it feels like the true genesis point for Metal Gear's identity. If you really didn't like the first game, give Solid Snake a chance, but for god's sake don't touch the NES version.

just an fyi that if this is your first exposure to FFX and you want to hop on the bandwagon of being a smug little brat about the supposedly "awful" voice acting (it's not, it's remarkably accomplished and effective considering the insane tech constraints the team was working under--the depth of performance these actors were able to achieve still blows more current games and their aggressively codified anime archetype voices out of the water! good luck finding protagonists with as specific and non-cliche intonations as Tidus/Yuna. Watching Hedy Buress' thoughtful interview featurette about playing Yuna literally makes me cry) you should know that you probably are feeling a weird friction between the voice/characters moreso because the hd remaster completely butchered so much of the animation and visual storytelling present in the faces of the original character models, which the english voice actors were directly responding to and taking influence from in their performances! OG Yuna had so much intimate detail written into her ps2-era features--her gentle, tired eyes, full of fatigue but never resignation. This new baby eyed smoothface Dissidia treatment has turned both our protags into puffy blowfish with hyper-saturated irises and deer in the headlights stares, and the pioneering facial animation from the og has all but been completely erased! literally you are seeing a vastly inferior treatment than 20 years ago. Devastating 2 observe this homunculus pantomime, truly can not bear it

also deriding the laughing scene for being cringe is so tedious, it IS cringe but in a beautiful and very real, well contextualized way and the reason the game contains this "cringe" scene is also the reason its literally the only convincing romance in like any videogame ever made !!!! sad how you've all forgotten how to love, i will be praying 4 u

FFX is an all timer for me and my connection to the mastery present in like every specific element of its original iteration have made playing this remaster completely impossible lol

maybe you will experience much less revulsion to the facial animation than me and i truly hope you do because this is one of the most holistically well considered and thematically cogent Final Fantasies and jrpgs in general. Just play the OG upscaled i literally just did and it looked infinitely more appealing than this

It's good to be playing new games again [Metroid Prime, Resident Evil 4, Dead Space...]

2002's Metroid Prime was my introduction to both the Metroid series and the search-action genre it spawned, and as far as first impressions go, I can't fathom it going much worse. I had such an unpleasant time with the game that I convinced myself I just didn't like the genre as a whole and cordoned myself off from it for nearly two decades. However, after playing Castlevania: Symphony of the Night back in 2019, I finally found the motivation to sit down and run through the classic 2D Metroids, and I thought they were pretty damn good.

I think it's important to reappraise things. After all, people grow and tastes change. I thought I hated Metroid, but now I am one of the initiated, immersed in Samus Aran's struggles and excited to get lost in strange, alien worlds with her. With the announcement of Metroid Prime Remastered, I thought "Holy shit they're charging 40$ for this, huh?" and went back to picking lint out of my belly button between rounds of Dragon Ball Z: Budokai. About two weeks later I saw actual footage from the game and realized it was a more substantive overhaul than I initially thought, and I shifted my thought process to "you know, there's no better time to replay this game than now." So I promptly bought a site-to-store copy from Wal-Mart which was cancelled because they ran out of stock, then I drove over to Gamestop and they were also out of stock, then I called the other Wal-Mart in town and they were out of stock, and then I went to Target and they had precisely one copy left which I bought for full price along with a Spectra Pro Controller because I refuse to ever play another game with those dogshit Joycons ever again and oh my god finally... Metroid Prime. It's been a long road.

Metroid Prime's opening aboard the space pirate's research station is one of the most iconic sequences from gaming's sixth generation. Every beat was immediately recognizable, as comforting and familiar as visiting a childhood home. Even the ensuing two hours on Tallon IV are remarkably smooth, with near perfect pacing and excellent level design that subtly guides the player onto the game's critical path, acclimating them to Samus' ever-expanding kit of suit upgrades in a way that is deliberate yet never overstated. Needless to say, I found a good groove with Metroid Prime early on and started to question what negatives I ever saw in it to begin with.

Having finished the game only a couple weeks prior, my friend Larry Davis has been pontificating to me about how bad Prime is. Worse than Other M, even! I disagree with that because not a single minute of Other M is good, and I've encouraged him to go through the arduous process of whipping a Wii out and refamiliarizing himself with that nightmare, but his greater point that Metroid Prime is a game that only becomes more agonizing the further you progress is one that I agree with 100%. The Phendrana research facility was my personal turning point, and the area that I feel highlights a shift in Metroid Prime's rhythm that is for the worst and which persists until the credits roll.

Backtracking is a pillar of this series, and it is not something I have an issue with inherently, but the way it manifests in Prime feels like it exists to pad time. Upon gaining the thermal visor, you must trudge your way back out of the research facility and march a considerable distance across the map to find your next objective, with little changing along the way other than a few rooms now have the lights off. Whereas the opening two hours has very fluid and naturalistic pathing that doesn't tread on your agency, the remainder of Prime sees you zig-zagging between distant locations with very little sense of where or why. It's like someone at Retro threw a dart at a map to determine where your next upgrade is, with even less consideration given to making the run there enjoyable.

Making things even more tedious is the fact that most areas are designed around specific one-time combat encounters and events. What was once a thrilling set piece is now a hassle that far more encourages you to simply zip past enemies and carry on, assuming you even can as a considerable amount intentionally create bottlenecks to force you into a fight. Unfortunately, combat feels patently underwhelming. Enemies are incredibly spongy and derivative, and the only real strategic element late in the game entails switching to the correct color-coded beam to take out elemental-infused rehashes of previously fought pirates and Metroids. Fun fun fun fun.

Metroid Prime Remastered does make a number of improvements over the original game, at least. The most obvious is in appearance. This might be the best-looking game I've played on the Switch. Environments feel much moodier and more atmospheric, and I really love the soft lighting of locations like the Chozo Ruins. Metroid Prime has always had good art direction, but the increased fidelity really helps it shine. I can only imagine how much better this would look on current hardware, but it's impressive for a game that's a generation behind. That said, I have heard from at least one friend who is far, faaar more familiar with Metroid than I am that the filters for the various visors are straight fucked. He claims the thermal visor made him physically ill, and although I did not have quite that severe of a reaction to it, the processing going on for the thermal and X-ray visors is so intrusive that they rob them of their functionality.

Controls are improved as well, though with a couple important caveats. By default, the game now has dual stick support, allowing you to play Prime like a normal first-person game. To be fair, in 2002 this sort of control scheme had yet to be codified, and I can only think of two games off the top of my head that supported it: Quake 2 for the PS1 and Timesplitters, I believe, although if you wanna stretch it, GoldenEye technically did if you wanted to do some real freak shit and whip out a second controller. (Correction: Halo: Combat Evolved predates Prime by a full year, and I consistently forget this.) However, you can tell that Prime was not built around this more free-wheelin' control method given how targeting still seems to be the most efficient way to approach enemy encounters, though having total control over the camera otherwise makes exploring Tallon IV feel more immersive. On the other hand, I do have some beef with how combo-weapons are mapped. You have to charge your weapon and tap the missile fire button, which requires you to awkwardly paw the controller with your middle finger on the trigger and index on the bumper. This is opposed to, for example, just having it set to charge a combo-weapon by holding the bumper itself. It's archaic and unnecessary and dampens its utility in a fight, which - in all fairness - is probably the point.

By hour four of ten in this game that has no business being longer than five, I started to think about how Metroid Prime is so clearly a game made by an outside studio, not because I have that knowledge in my head already but because that's how it feels. There's a reverence for the material, but a lack of understanding on what makes Metroid feel good that can only be communicated through its shortcomings, and the way it fumbles crucial elements like the routing of its critical path. Playing this again 21 years later has not given me an appreciation for Metroid Prime outside of the quality of life and graphical improvements the remaster has made. It has only reminded me of why I steered clear of the series and genre for such a long time after. Two stars for being Metroid Prime plus an additional half star for looking purdy.

We eat the sacred cow and together we burn.

The final stretch of Dark Souls II is so effective from the perspective of storytelling, that I regret not documenting my earlier frustrations in better detail. True, even doing so I would have very little to contribute beyond the laundry list of complaints already shared by anyone who remembers the game: enemy and level designs are squat and very Maximo: Ghosts to Glory, the combat is as loose and weightless as an N64 Zelda title (but it expects a Bloodborne-like performance from you), the success of Demon's and Dark Souls gives it free license for scattershot cruelty, the total openness combined with fragmented levels (and uneven difficulties within) and steep punishment for failure has it even more bewildering than the first time you started up Demon's Souls; a problem ironed out by its follow up. But then, and here's the thing, acknowledging that last point is the first step in appreciating a future where these things continued to push for total emotional/physical/ludic bewilderment over what became across Bloodborne, Dark Souls 3, and Sekiro, progressively fine-tuned to tight, reactive play and linear progression. My preference is still with the proprioceptive rhythms of the other games, but the other games have never highlighted such an agonising disconnect between body and mind as Dark Souls II. Quite the opposite: for all they speak of corrupted flesh and the curse of undeath, they give way to the catharsis of the agile, the dynamic, the mastery of limbs and speed. The cosmic fatalism of their narratives is known but never known, in the posture, in the madness, in the burden of having to try for thankless and indeterminate progress, which is certainly not a criticism, but it's also not the only way to do things. Dark Souls II is less preoccupied with suggesting a shadowy cosmology than with the way it might register in dreams and memories — death is not tied to any greater philosophical purpose than going back to sleep, so you don't have to hurt any more. And this is where the final stretch of the game is so effective: what was so bewilderingly open finds itself inexorably within in the pull of thanatos, what was frustrating finds itself a sense of purpose in the game's guide, appearing intermittently to say only I'm sorry, I'm sorry you're here.

Some thoughts that I had stuck in my head:
Explore the world looking for a solution, a connection. Together. Maybe not physically, not by the same routes, maybe not delivering the same

It is difficult for Death Stranding to reach you playing it alone. Its nature emerges more easily online, and it's a great gesture and a statement of intent that you don't need a subscription to ps plus.

Kojima presents a digital world that is difficult to interpret and unite in words, a fiction that shoots directly into our reality.
Cursed, heartfelt, but also emotional. embrace the connections between things, but question them. a celebration of human duality
More prophetic than MGS2 and with better observation, generalizing and at the same time specifying the difficulties of our day to day, articulating them in the total art of videogames.
From the most abstract to the most literal, collective fears, traumas and very recognizable memories materialized. Visible, audible, and even palpable in an alien America full of dualities, of people who only intuit and show themselves through holograms and numbers.
But we are here. Maybe not next door, but in the same world. And the proof is the ladder that I have used to create an improvised bridge, I have left it here, for you, for me, for everyone. And that rope on the cliff, that capsule, that package on the ground. We are here.

Where the rejection of what forces us to leave this world is manifested in a kind of allergy for those who are more akin to these fears or have experienced them to the limit.
Where people are baptized for their present, for their office and condemned for their past. Where the heroes deliver packages and letters. They come to our futuristic shacks and install an esoteric Internet.
Everything is Sam Porter Bridges, whose name makes it STRONGLY EVIDENT what Death Stranding is about, and at the same time no, you cannot perfectly encompass anything as complex as earthly and afterlife connections, the natural and the mechanical, the Software and the Hardware, the "Ka" and "ha". reality and dreams. Much of Death Stranding's recontextualized iconography seems to suggest that.

It is a work that calls for thinking in an unprecedented way about it, because it offers an unprecedented reinterpretation of the transition and relationship with our environment, especially for gaming standards, obsessed with the mechanical-narrative relationship or the challenge, the suggestion and the satisfaction as a criterion to generate interpretations that are autopsies or descriptions. That in the best case.
At worst you have Far Cry 3.
Every species has the game in different facets and areas as a form of intellectual and emotional connection.
Children play and learn/relate, animals play to understand each other. We play to replace war.

Even before having sex we played.

Homo ludens. And Kojima welcomes a lot of this.

We need to be playful without losing focus.
There is no need for subtlety, just answer honestly to human questions. Use the forms of play as a response to the bitter obstacles of reality.
The example is the "Social Strand System", a mechanical reinterpretation of social networks where the game of deliveries and recovery of packages, manufactures and constructions has an impact on likes and statistics, but also on turning the environment into something more livable and peaceful, at the same time, shows that a more altruistic and ethical form of social interaction is possible.
It sounds naive to say that the reconstruction of the collective environment in an online video game is a lesson in altruism and community, even more so when there are likes involved, but the exercise of life begins somewhere, and now that we are waking up from this techno delirium -competitive utopian in which social networks had us flooded, now that we know how important they are to connect with each other more than to raise our ego, this "Social Strand System" shines more than in 2019.
Through the textures of slow gaming, an experiment of self-knowledge and updating is proposed, there is the unprecedented, in how the game confronts us with situations without necessarily connecting their thoughts or ideas and still achieving a certain cohesion. As in life, no one knows "what it is about" and yet we walk through it with what we own and what others leave for us.
And for a game that wants to embrace these themes without giving up the nature of its medium, its foundation, it's something really admirable.
-------------------
Not a single day goes by that I don't think about Death Stranding. Perhaps because of what has been happening in the world since 2020.
On arrival at Port Knot City.
How the corpses of people who have left explode, leaving an emotional and physical void in the form of a crater. Cities with people locked up, invisible. In the networks. In their inverted rainbows. How work becomes playing with its dozens of tools to transport, how enemies are my reflection, silence, likes, photos, stories... In life, how life can be everywhere.
And I can't even put into words practically anything that this game is for me. I plan to return to it in 2023 now that a sequel has been announced that begs the question: Should we have Connected?

Better remake than several of the contemporaries, basically because it is a remix that assimilates the false -or more widespread- history of "survival Horror" (the genre names are a bit silly) that the magazines sold us here in the West batter than the last "new" games of the last few years. Think of essential pillar works of the horror aesthetic in gaming And you probably don't think of Laplace No Ma or Twilight Syndrome, god, names like Sweet Home, Clock Tower and contemporaries are probably starting to sound, but surely most say Alone in the Dark and already jumps into the golden era of Resident Evil, Silent Hill, White Day, Project Zero and all that.
It is natural, understandable due to the lack of a consistent canon in gaming, incapable of being properly created even in the puberty of a medium that is forced to a maturity that it could already reach (in fact it has already touched it).

Advertising and the Ludic factor have screwed up video games in many ways, but the worst is that accidental and unavoidable ignorance due to the lack I mentioned of a properly documented historical canon leads to constant redundancy in design planning and game direction. many "new" games. And it's not that I care too much about this lack of originality, this redundancy, nah, there are pre-rendered games with landscape Screen Orientation where the only thing you do is walk that take my breath away more than any "mechanical revolution" a-la Mario64. I don't think that quality is measured by originality, besides, bro, literally less than 50% of the mechanics that exist or were today are used expressively, almost everything is immediate gratification, fast food style.

We need more Historians in gaming, ASAP.

The adorable and beautiful thing about experiencing first works and recognizing influences on new authors is lost when they approach aesthetics with structures as closed as "classic survival horror", which always seems to result in the same sagas, with the same redundancy as I write these thoughts.

Well this brings us to Signalis. I recently came across a video on Youtube titled: SIGNALIS THE NEW FACE OF MODERN SURVIVAL HORROR

or something like that.

Modern? What ? in what sense? It is a remix of the supposed pillars of survival horror; RE structure, evocative images a la Silent Hill, hand holding sections in the first person, like horror graphic adventures or something from the golden era like White day. A Sci fi setting.
Martian Gothic.
DeadSpace.
Bro. Perhaps the only modern thing is the second round that works as a continuation and begins to suggest ideas about cycles and emotional attachment. But even in that I recognize other works.
It's not a bad thing as such. Remake and give your take, your version. I prefer it a thousand times to any remake of Vicarious Visions or BluePoint (May Arceus punish the shareholder meetings as they deserve) but Regardless of the intrinsic quality of SIGNALIS, you can see where it comes from and how little it can actually offer beyond entertaining hours: the product.