Queria começar dizendo que estou no 0,001% que zerou o primeiro jogo 6x. Eu realmente amo a primeira aventura da Senua e isso se deve muito pela própria. Uma das personagens de video-game que eu mais gostei nos últimos anos.

Em termos de gameplay não há novidades, a estrutura é a mesma e a Ninja Theory não tem vergonha de andar numa linha tênue entre o que é e não é uma experiência na qual se interage. A jogabilidade aqui são apenas inputs para se tocar animações que mal cumprem o papel de te fazer sentir no controle das ações da personagem, além de longas cutscenes.

Os gráficos são um dos maiores destaques, é possível resumir sua qualidade apenas ao constatar que são alguns dos melhores visuais já produzidos para um jogo até hoje. Pelo menos é certo que as melhores expressões faciais estão aqui.

Acompanhando os gráficos; a arte, dublagem, som e outros aspectos são tudo do mais alto nível de excelência e o que se espera de um jogo AAA.

Finalmente, a história: Me sinto um pouco frustrado, não acho ruim o que é contado aqui, os personagens são interessantes e a narrativa e direção me agradam. O que me frusta é o grande chamariz do jogo para mim, sua protagonista, Senua. No primeiro jogo a esquizofrenia quase toma o protagonismo para si, confundindo até mesmo o jogador, com alucinações, delírios e claro, as vozes. Aqui é tudo muito suave em comparação. As vozes estão lá, mas parecem mais narradores do que distúrbios. O resto mal se faz presente, é triste. Senua não reage mais à sua própria insanidade com algumas exceções. Saudades dela olhando para a câmera como se nós, jogadores, fossêmos só mais uma das várias alucinações.

Hellblade 2 é um passo para o lado em muitos quesitos, alguns foram além, como os gráficos, mas o primeiro jogo ainda fica mais alto no meu coração pois aqui não se encontra o brilho da sua maior estrela, a doença que faz dela uma protagonista absolutamente única. No primeiro jogo aprendemos que as batalhas mais dificéis são aquelas lutadas na mente, então porque nessa aventura são aquelas contra meros homens.

The game started off pretty questionable in the first chapter, and I didn’t expect it to change, but man was I wrong. The game did an entire 180 and turned out fantastic. It felt surreal to play a new Silent Hill game in 2024 that actually had the vibes of the originals, I loved all the references to the original games as well. The visuals were stunning, the transition to the other world visuals were absolutely fantastic. The cherry blossom monster had such a fantastic design, and the chase segments were engaging and intense. The final chase segment was just great, the visuals gave me vibes of the otherworld hospital in Silent Hill 3, the creature AI was actually well made as well and it did a really good job of trying to catch you and cut you off. Overall this game was such a surprise and it genuinely gives me hope for this franchise’s future. Konami proved that they still have it in them, and both Masahiro Ito, and Akira Yamaoka did amazing jobs as usual, their work is some of the best and most unique in the industry, and I'm really happy to see them back working on this franchise. I love this franchise and seeing it come back like this makes me very excited for the future.

Watching some people react to this game's pretty simple and inoffensive message of "when you're isolated and on the brink, a small connection from another human can help begin healing" with "it's illegal to tell stories about mental illness that don't end with the illness 100% cured but also if you do cure the illness that's cheap but suggesting that there's no moment where you're 'cured' you just grow and become better at dealing with it is ALSO evil. And suggesting that small things might help depression is evil and ableist and also suggesting that getting help is good is also evil and ableist. And also displaying mental illness as being debilitating is bad but also displaying it as being minor amounts to shooting mentally ill people in the head. And also it's misogynistic to suggest mentally ill people, some of whom are women, can be helped or even saved by human connection" makes me SO excited for how today's media landscape is going to absorb, flatten and wreck the themes of games that actually HAVE deeply nuanced, complicated things to say about mental illnesses and healing from them.

Like, say, Silent Hill 2.

ANYWAY! I thought it was fine, great in some parts and weak in others. It's VERY on the nose about its theme — but people are still missing it, so whatcha gonna do. The reaction from people with 0 media literacy is frankly more interesting to me than the game itself. STILL, I enjoyed it well enough and I think a lot of the disdain it's getting has more to do with the way that modern Silent Hill fans have decided that anything new is inherently bad and cheap and will never live up to some imagined past of perfection than the actual game itself, which is, at WORST, mid and anvilicious.

To anyone who has played Alan Wake II, it is very clear what the moment of the game is, perhaps, the undeniable best moment in a game this year. Up until this point, Alan Wake II has already been an incredibly impressive showcasing of over two decades of Remedy’s work, both technically and narratively. An absolute juggernaut of art direction and writing that is almost completely unprecedented in the video game space, that has shown a true mastery of the cross-media shooters that Remedy has made their definitive image. And it is truly impressive, but if you’ve played the games leading up to this game, almost one question is surely on your mind, which is simply. “When is that moment going to happen, and how is it going to rock my world this time?”

Old Gods of Asgard, or as their real life counterpart Poets of the Fall, have been an instrumental figure in Remedy’s work since Max Payne 2. Their music has played in just about every title, and on almost every occasion it is one of, if not, the highlight of the game. In the original Alan Wake, the band was not just present, but a vital part of the story, personifying the band into an almost parody 80s heavy metal duo, who’s story takes up a good chunk of the game. With the highlight almost certainly being when you take the stage for yourself and take on a hoard of enemies as a truly glorious cheesy metal song blasts away as you shine lights onto a truly ravenous crowd.

In Control, the moment you realize what you’re playing is essentially a sequel to Alan Wake, is the Ashtray Maze. A location that is built up early on in the game, and as you approach the climax, it becomes clear you will have to traverse this bizarre labyrinth. And as the time finally comes to best this maze, a familiar name pops up, completely sucker punches you with the shock, followed by the aftermath of playing one of the best levels in video game history. Control’s strong art direction, using simple tricks to make these impossible brutalist locations, make the Ashtray Maze mesmerizing. A simple repeating texture, yet it feels infinite. It feels larger than life. And its Old Gods of Asgard that is to thank for that, when they come on in a Remedy game, you know something special is going on.

In that regard, like many things, Alan Wake II has much to live up to. How do you pull that same trick again and make it feel fresh? And the answer is very simple, and almost inevitable.

Go the full mile.

The moment you get the option of playing as both protagonists in this game, when you decide to play as Alan Wake again, this moment of the game is ready to greet you. And even before the chapter really starts, you can tell that something is up. There is an almost infectious pride and joy on display here, as talk show host, Mr. Door hypes up Alan Wake and his unique interview he is about to conduct with their house band. You even get to see the creative lead, Sam Lake, do a stupid little dance as they drop on you, “Herald of Darkness: The Story of the Journey of Alan Wake: The Musical”. At this point, you know Remedy is about to drop their classic trick on you, and they’ve not been shy about showcasing it after release, even getting a huge Game Awards showcase showing the music, so I had an idea of what was about to happen. But nothing can prepare you for what follows afterwards.

The Herald of Darkness segment of Alan Wake II is a true masterclass of everything Remedy has led up to this point. Because this is not just an arena or a level set to an Old Gods of Asgard song, no, the song is the level. A four act musical that does indeed, document the life of our titular protagonist, in a way that feels larger than life. The whole level is essentially like a rollercoaster dark ride, using screens to get you further and further into the maze to make the song progress a bit further and further. All these screens use live action footage of the actors, which isn’t uncommon to Remedy, and definitely not in Alan Wake II, which at this point, you’ve seen a truly staggering amount of, but seeing everything on display in this level is something else. Like Control, the trick is simple. It is essentially just a bunch of video files that are being strategically used to craft a narrative. But that simplicity doesn’t take away from that raw feeling of “this is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

As you progress further and further into the level, it paints a picture of Alan Wake, arguably, the character that Remedy has put the most time and effort into crafting. And I think this portion of the game is honestly essential to really solidifying Alan as a character. While none of what is sung about is new information, a lot of it is information that was never really a particular focal point of the first game. Having bits where you can see Alan’s bizarre childhood nightmares that led to his success as a writer, and having that success turn into frustration and stagnation with his middling writing is incredibly interesting. And seeing it play out in song form with the actors tossing around white powder, and getting increasingly more hostile in the second part, is not just a striking way of getting attention, but it really makes Alan feel more like a legitimate character as in comparison to the first game.

I think a truly striking part of this section of the game, is that for the most part, there isn’t too much in the way of gameplay up until this part; at least in comparison to what you were doing prior. Alan Wake II is a game that isn’t necessarily trying to blow audience’s minds with the gameplay loop like they were in Control, and it works completely fine. Yet in spite of being a relatively simple over the shoulder shooter game, II has a gameplay moment that gave me absolute goosebumps. A moment that solidified that this was not just the best moment of the year, that Alan Wake II was almost certainly the best game of the year, but indeed, a moment that made me realize it might be the best of the decade.

Act III of the song is truly a special moment of the game. A nostalgic remembrance of the first game, but instead of the beautiful Washington countryside, it is instead made up entirely of screens, and props. A beautiful fake memory. And a moment that made me feeling rosy eyed memories of a game I only just played last year; and one I’m not even super crazy about in retrospect. But its that love and detail you can feel the folks at Remedy do have for this title that comes through, and that is what matters. And then the moment happens. Just as you’re remembering everything. You get maybe the best ally you could possibly receive in that moment, the iconic Alan Wake flare gun. And in that moment, the Taken come out, and you absolutely torch them, as the Old Gods rage on to your glorious rampage. It is a moment that you can only dream of creating. It is the perfect blend of build up, satisfaction, character building, and serotonin activation that can only be achieved through pure raw music. It is a titan of game design, and something that could’ve only been crafted through a lot of love, care, and experience.

Of course, this isn’t the end of the song, but at this point, as unfortunate as it is. It is time to wrap the song up. Nothing can last forever. Even Alan Wake agrees to a bossa nova version of the song, to which he does a little jig to. And so, using a new gameplay mechanic of changing the location, through Alan’s writing, you enter a new scene to end the song. A full live action dance number to round off this absolutely incredible level. A moment of pure stupid bliss. Capping off with a confused, but ultimately satisfied Alan Wake, looking on and smiling as he sips a coffee, to this truly bonkers musical number, about how absolutely mediocre his life is. I truly love this level, and just about everyone else who has played this game can back me up. It is truly in a league of its own, and likely will not be replicated again in just about any game.

It feels a bit strange to only write about one moment in a game, presumably one with plenty of memorable moments. And trust me, there are a whole bunch of other scenes and moments I could heep undeniable praise for. But honestly that is the whole game for me. Just about every set piece, every level, every performance, is something as interesting as this, even if it isn’t perhaps as flashy or as overt as this one moment. Alan Wake II isn’t a flawless game, its gameplay is essentially just a more stripped down Resident Evil 2 (2019), and sometimes the pacing isn’t perfect. But I really don’t care. Remedy as a studio has been an endearing and wonderful game studio, not because they make the best polished games, but because they’re constantly making games that are undeniably interesting. Alan Wake II feels like that ultimate melting pot of ideas that they’ve wanted to achieve since the first Alan Wake title, fully realized into a truly special multi-media project. A game that truly promises to cash in on everything that makes the studio one to look out for, and something I’ve been thinking about the entire month as I was playing it. There are times when you know something is special, and this is just one of those undeniable moments.

Here’s to the Champions and Heralds!

Severly dragged down by spotty combat encounter design that pitfalls into demented crap in Act 3, an uninteresting ovearching narrative in a setting that feels like a parody of itself, garbage menu-ing that makes even the simple act of changing party members a slog and a fuckload of bugs that mar all aspects of the game. Its completely nonexistent sense of pacing is both strength and weakness, making characters get all buddy-buddy in the span of barely a couple of hours of gameplay and having defining narrative moments happen with zero buildup but also making it so that a playthrough is full of weird and interesting encounters in every corner. Otherwise, the actual combat mechanics are mostly fine if a bit overwhelming to players unfamiliar with TTRPG rules, and the companions and their respective questlines are pretty charming though often thematically overlapped with each other. Passing marks since despite of it all it's the type of game that is more than the sum of its parts, but those parts are stuck together with expired duct tape and while plenty of people will adore those parts others will have them fall square on their face.

“And thus did our journey begin…”

You’re a wide-eyed, adventurous youth, that sees the world through a vision painted in vibrant hues of wonder. It’s your friend’s birthday, and the stars align as you, along with two others are going to spend the night at his home. The thrill is palpable because it’s the first time you’re spending the night at a friend’s place—a realm usually off-limits according to the unwritten rules of your mother’s parenting playbook.

You love video games. You always have. Some of your first memories are sitting in your father’s lap as he plays Sonic the Hedgehog and X-Men on the Sega Genesis. Just last year the universe smiled upon you, bestowing a Nintendo 64 and a Gameboy into your eager hands. It’s lead you on a path toward infatuation with the worlds of Pokémon and Super Mario. Yet, in this tapestry of nostalgia, a new thread weaves in—the enchanting notes of a little game named Ocarina of Time, your sole deviation from the familiar.

But back in the present, the birthday boy unveils something else that is unfamiliar to you—the PlayStation. Prior encounters were confined to store kiosks, but now, in the warm glow of your friend’s living room, the PlayStation becomes a symphony of novelty. He pulls out a plastic case, revealing a disc for a game he says is called “Final Fantasy VII”. You didn’t know games could come on CDs, nor have you ever heard of Final Fantasy. You have no idea what to expect as he snaps the game disc into the console, and it begins to whirr.

You’re instantly struck by the visual allure of this game. The painterly backgrounds, the lifelike character models, and the music, unlike anything you’ve ever heard in a video game, leave you utterly astonished. It’s more than just a game; it’s a portal to an undiscovered realm where moments of joy become indelibly etched onto the canvas of your memories.

Captivated, you and your friends take turns between playing and watching each other until the first light of dawn breaks. In those magical hours, not a single worry occupies your thoughts.

Final Fantasy is not merely a series; it has inexplicably become a part of my personal growth, evolving synchronously with my own journey–a steadfast companion that has consistently stood by my side, much like a trusted friend.

While not every attempt at evolution has been an unqualified success, the enduring truth remained—Final Fantasy retained its distinctive essence. It was still the person you knew.

Through shifts in tone, aesthetic, mechanics, and lore, there has always been a discernible throughline that defines the essence of Final Fantasy. This enduring thread of continuity is what fuels my excitement when contemplating the new horizons the series will explore and why I was anticipating its arrival on new hardware.

Much to my chagrin, Final Fantasy XVI has left me more disappointed than I could have ever imagined a game in the series could. That’s because XVI is a confused, over-embellished mess resulting in a work that seems to have strayed far from the core of what defines the series’ identity. While continuing the series’ ethos of reinvention and eschewing all of its RPG systems is not an inherently adverse decision, the execution is often abysmal.

That’s because now Final Fantasy is a bleary action game that lacks the mechanical depth or focus necessary to produce an enthralling action experience. While flashy and well-animated, the combat system is woefully straightforward and repetitive due to being restricted to a singular combo sequence heavily reliant on Eikon abilities kept primarily on cooldown for optimal damage output.

Ironically, this makes the gameplay feel much more like three Final Fantasy XIVs in a Dante costume than embodying the essence of a Devil May Cry game. With a low skill floor and ceiling, the game falls short of delivering a truly gratifying action experience that fosters individual player expression. As a consequence, nearly every combat encounter unfolds in a uniform manner, requiring little more from the player than the management of cooldown rotations.

The game exhibits a persistent inclination to rip control away from the player, particularly during crucial boss encounters. Rather than allowing players to get into a flow, it frequently interrupts the player’s agency to initiate cutscenes or quick-time events. Furthermore, for an action-centric game, it notably lacks in challenge; I managed to navigate through the entire game without dying once.

Moreover, while most action games typically span 8 to 12 hours and steadily introduce upgrades and new abilities, this game follows a different trajectory. It extends combat in the same monotonous combat patterns for prolonged stretches of 5 to 8 hours before infrequently introducing new abilities through Eikons, disrupting the expected pace of progression.

Speaking of pace, XVI is one of the most poorly-paced games I’ve ever played. It falls into a predictable pattern that is not unlike the main story in XIV since you’ll be undertaking 45-minute to one-hour missions that are primarily cutscenes (that often have admittedly high peaks of spectacle) before spending hours running around performing errands like picking up dirt or killing wolves.

This may have been fine on its own since side content often enriches the world and imparts a distinct essence to it. VII Remake masterfully achieved this, as its focus on the ordinary in side quests significantly contributed to the overall humanist experience.

For instance, an early side quest involves Clive delivering meals to the hideout’s residents, a task that recurs later in the game.

Ostensibly meant to underscore Clive’s character evolution and his growing connection with those around him, the lack of endearment in both Clive and these characters results in this endeavor feeling more like inconsequential padding.

It doesn’t help that the world of Valisthea is an uninteresting dark fantasy facsimile that lacks any defining traits other than series pastiche. Despite attempts to convey vastness across the continent, the game predominantly features diminutive, quaint villages, failing to offer the grandeur of bustling cities seen in earlier titles. While large, distant cities occasionally tease the horizon, these remain inaccessible, confined to linear story segments. This limitation is regrettable, considering the considerable effort invested in crafting detailed and visually appealing landscapes.

There were so many instances where I felt something akin to what I often felt playing XV: a sense of exploration driven by intrigue from the environment. I’d catch sight of captivating landmarks on the horizon, enticing mu curiosity. Occasionally, they might appear trivial, but sometimes they would end up being legitimately impressive dungeons. All of this takes place in a seamlessly interconnected world, encouraging and emphasizing the joy of exploration with your party.

XVI regrettably fails to offer any definitive fulfillment in this aspect. The world is a series of barren, disjointed hubs that could fit into a thimble and merely pad the game’s run time.

Even the set pieces and boss fights are mostly glorified cutscenes with player control taken away, often at multiple junctures during combat, to set up a quick time event. Most of the game is on autopilot, and combat often feels like a formality… a genuinely great decision for an action game.

The vestiges of RPG systems in XVI serve as little more than window dressing, only coming off as lip service to previous titles. While you can level up and acquire or craft weapons, their absence wouldn’t significantly impact the gaming experience. Weapons merely serve as objective upgrades, enhancing damage and stagger potential without introducing any elemental advantages or trade-offs for specialized performance. Consequently, this lack of depth fosters a sense of hesitancy and a lack of confidence in the game’s new direction, leaving XVI feeling muddled and uncertain in its approach.

XVI falls short in delivering an engrossing narrative. The storytelling unfolds as a sluggish, uneven journey that veers away from its core thematic elements midway. The intricate exploration of themes like slavery and bureaucracy? Abruptly abandoned in favor of a divergent quest to confront a divine entity.

This makes producer Naoki Yoshida’s statements about the lack of inclusion of non-white people humorous since the game gets quite ridiculous and rarely finds itself grounded in “reality”. Hence, the idea that brown people can’t exist in a fantasy setting with kaiju battles in space is worthy of all the ridicule it received. It’s also really funny how it tries to justify Clive’s family’s slave ownership because they were nice to their slaves.

Final Fantasy XVI is a shallow and hollow experience with nothing to offer besides production values. Everything exists in service of spectacle, and what we are left with is a game so obsessed with cinematic prestige that it is bereft of substance.

There are flashes of brilliance. In a different world, this game, with its combat and scope, could have been a somewhat solid open-world RPG. Or if the scope was reigned in and more complexity baked into the combat system, a solid, linear action game.

Also, for a game that seems to harbor such an active disdain for its legacy, the ending tries desperately to tug on nostalgia strings to evoke pathos. The result is a lazy, intellectually insulting narrative climax that is entirely unearned.

The Final Fantasy series has always made reinvention the point. If one game in the series was not your favorite flavor, the next installment could be. However, I do not think that will be the case moving forward. With this game being a critical and commercial success, coupled with bloated budgets and long gestation periods, I believe this is the direction we can expect the series to take. This is a problem because XVI sacrifices so much of the essence of Final Fantasy without leaving much left to take its place.

If that’s the case, I fear I might have to disembark from the journey, left with nostalgia for what once was, rather than anticipation for what might come.

You’re older now. The weight of the years makes it increasingly challenging to muster the fervor for pursuits that once ignited your passion. It feels like just yesterday you were eagerly tearing through the packaging of a pristine PlayStation 2, enveloped in sheer elation at the prospect of delving into the world of Final Fantasy X. Yet, paradoxically, those moments now seem shrouded in mist. The vivid tapestry of memories has gradually receded into indistinct relics, their vibrant hues fading into a subdued palette of somber grays.

The friends with whom you forged a foundational memory on the day of discovering a beloved video game series have become mere echoes in the corridors of distant recollection. Decades have elapsed since your last exchange, and thoughts of them now rarely arise.

In the intervening years, new friendships have blossomed, and others have withered away. The ebb and flow of companionship has charted a course that, much like your own journey, has gradually distanced you from the familiar shores of home. As the currents of time carry you further away, the recollection of those once-cherished moments becomes increasingly elusive, obscured by the passage of experiences and the ever-expanding horizon of your life.

Have the hues of enthusiasm faded into a more muted palette? Is this a natural evolution of the human spirit as it traverses the landscape of age? Acknowledging the inevitability of change, you recognize that transformation can often herald improvement, even carrying the potential for exciting developments.

A new Final Fantasy’s release is imminent, and the initial spark of excitement dims under the weight of tempered expectations. A new friend, attuned to the significance this series holds in your heart, surprises you with a fresh copy of Final Fantasy XVI, blissfully unaware of the skepticism clouding your anticipation. Embracing the notion that change can breathe life into the familiar, you decide to immerse yourself in the new chapter.

Yet, after a few hours of exploring this new realm, a sobering reality settles in. It resounds a contemplation that has resonated within you concerning existence itself. The experience leaves you pondering whether a subtle cynicism has woven its threads into the fabric of your once-unbridled optimism. Your journey through the corridor of time has left you with a reluctant acceptance of the present—it is what it is.

“…and thus did our journey end.”

OK SOU UM POUCO BIASED POR SER LÉSBICA E APAIXONADA PELA FUKAWA. eu sou péssima em jogos em que tu tem que fazer coisas de fato e não só ler texto, mas eu entendo que se eu tivesse um pouquinho mais de habilidade os elementos fps teriam sido muito divertidos. os comentários da fukawa fazem esse jogo brilhar e eu adoro os warriors of hope, embora seja inegável que UDG seja o jogo mais violento da série de danganronpa porque envolve. ehm. violência explícita direcionada a crianças. mas se tu tiver estômago, é uma Experiência!

Avoid this one at all costs.

The Chant is a horror action-adventure with terrible combat, mediocre level design, dozens of half baked ideas, and scripted sequences. Sounds fun? It isn’t. While there are some admittedly good ideas here, none of them land because the game is getting pulled in so many areas. The combat is far too easy, even on hard, and it’s also far too easy to avoid them. The “puzzles” are brain-dead and the level design is generic and tedious with its never-ending paths and it’s unnecessary back and forth design. This is really bad, but not offensive

3/10