For the last year since playing this wonderful, wonderful, game there was an absence of words to capture what made it so special. Perhaps it was the way it dealt with humanity, or the little moments of pain and loss, or the way it depicts moral, mental, and financial debts. Maybe it was its fantastic soundtrack with a folksy and otherworldly feel. In the end, I think I have just been overthinking what makes this game so special. Kentucky Route Zero is a game about a delivery to Dogwood Drive, not about where you are going but the journey there.

You are this story's curator piecing together the lines of a play as it is performed live in front of you. There will be times in this story where you control every line of dialogue and times in which you contribute very little. Still, that is but minutiae of the moments. The game at its best will invest you bring you into a moment and let it ruminate. These moments are shared by a disparate group of travelers all heading in the same direction for one reason or another. What begins with Conway and hit old mutt grows into a group of people held together for reasons even they cannot put words to. It seems that while chance encounters brought them together they are bound by loneliness. The relationship they share is not unlike those who stumble thei way into the acquaintanceship of others and eventually become friends, sometimes even family. We all need people, sometimes two people come upon one another at the exact right moment to form a bond. Even if that bond is only for a little while.

The thing Kentucky Route Zero captures best is the little moments of mundanity we all live through. For as ethereal and distant as some elements of Kentucky Route Zero are it remains an honest capturing of life. With its every line and stage action hurtling the player towards a finale less grand than it is bittersweet as much of life often is. These moments string together forming a complex web of stories that define us. These plain moments end up on display for thoughtful reflection, much like residents homes are snapped up and displayed in the games Museum of Dwellings. For characters such as Conway, this can see something as minor as a leg injury come to define his life. We don’t often think about how these little insignificant things come to shape our entire worlds. Still, they do, there is no turning back the clock or answer to the ‘what if’ questions we might ask. We do our best to continue life, waking up getting out of bed and going about our business as if it were the most important thing in the world whether we stop by the barber after work or put it off that one more day.

Kentucky Route Zero is about being set back. For Conway, his injury does more than simply delay the delivery to Dogwood Drive. It sets him onto a path of no return in which medical and moral debt consume him. After years of fighting against alcoholism and trying to keep going, keep pushing for those who he had hurt he gives in. Conway is lost, what is left in the aftermath is a nameless man lost to his own vices, settling for a life unlived. It wasn’t just capitalism that killed Conway, but his own waning resilience in the face of an uncaring monolith. That story is just one of a handful reflecting on American decay. The loss of life and family in the service of greed and labor. For his traveling companion’s loss is not unfamiliar, still, they remain, for a time, resilient against the crashing of a wave against their shore. For a young boy like Ezra, it could be his innocence will remain despite all that he has lost but the world often takes more than it can give. What is to become of him, or the others, is left up to us. We are all just keepers of a flame. If we nurture it, it will grow and keep us warm. If we do not, if we let the waves of life wash it away we too will lose ourselves in the torrent.

Kentucky Route Zero is about moving ahead. In the face of an unrelenting sea, we are then too asked the question, why keep going. Kentucky Route Zero shows us time and time again what we do in the face of loss. Grief too is just a moment in our lives like any other. It fades over time before inevitably returning like an old friend. Like many of its themes, Kentucky Route Zero lays bare grief and trauma. There is loss and death and yet they continue onward. Even in the carnage, some find hope, where something is empty there is an opportunity to fill it. To make it a home for friends and family to come together. Even if for a short time. What comes after that? Well, more mundanity. While one town might be suffering the worst storm in a generation another might be featuring the debut play of an aspiring playwright. The world is rarely this binary but Kentucky Route Zero in all its mysticism allows itself to be as simple or as complex as its messages need it to be.

We often find ourselves adrift in the sea without guidance or purpose. Still, we find our own guidance in time. From simple goals to big dreams were are aided by our friends, family, and even strangers. They help us along the way and eventually we find our own place in the world. Stories such as Kentucky Route Zero are rare in that they capture these elements and distill them so elegantly they stick with us. Even if we cannot put words as to why. I hesitated, trying to find the words to describe Kentucky Route Zero. “The next great piece of classic American literature?” with some grandiose idea of what words could justify the importance of this game. Nonetheless, thinking more about Kentucky Route Zero it stuck with me that there need not be some elaborate story to put to this game. After all, others have certainly captured the spirit of the game better than I could. It is, for a remarkable difficult world, another piece of literature that brings us into its stories if only for a moment to better understand the world and ourselves.

Yakuza: Like a Dragon acts a fresh start for the Yakuza series bringing in a (largely) new cast, a new map, and most importantly a new turn based combat system unlike anything the series has done prior. By and large these are some big risks for a franchise long defined by a brawling combat system and the stoic protagonist it had in Kazuma Kiryu. The combat system alone is a bold experiment, it mostly works out. Having played just a handful of turn based games Like a Dragon‘s is not necessarily the best of them. While it allows you a wisdom in planning out how your team will attack, it more often can make combat drag as you spam area of effect attacks hoping to clear out as many grunts as possible. Beyond that, the lack of free movement and the high miss chance of status attacks can make it feel like the best path is just to mash the same handful of direct attacks and hope for the best. These complaints could easily be rectified with some changes to the system, some are perhaps more necessary changes than others. As a first outing for turn based combat it is a well executed system with all the heavy hits and absurdity you might expect from the series at this point. Some of the attacks are wild and bring a necessary levity to an otherwise monotonous combat flow. At its best the combat was pretty enjoyable, but it was hardly what kept me coming back hour after hour.

Like a Dragon is a long game, certainly the longest in the top half of this list, yet it doesn’t feel it. For every hour you spend in the district of Ijincho helping people, building your relationship with party members, and following the main storyline there is the promise of another heartfelt moment, laugh, or revelation waiting for you. The writing whether it be dramatic or comedic usually hits home. Ichiban gets into some intense conflicts with criminal conspiracies threatening the very fabric of Japan’s government at the same time he is tasked with feeding random passerby’s spicy kimchi to conquer their fears. It is a strange dichotomy but one this series has seemingly been executing on for nearly two decades now. The dramatic main story never feels out of step with the absurd side content, Ryo Aoki’s plans and the dissolution of the Omi Alliance and Tojo Clan are compelling pieces of this game that are comfortable letting you off the hook long enough to fight a big roomba or run a multi-billion yen corporation.

Like a Dragon‘s comfort in being something different is what keeps its appeal strong long after you have realized the best combat is endless AOE attacks. It takes new risks in a series that has long been comfortable with it identity. The result is a compelling JRPG with some wrinkles. Even so, Ichiban is a fresh face, even if he is supposed to be 42 years old. Man is bright eyed and bushy haired for 42 and the game treats him like a kid in a candy store getting to be the new protagonist. That oddity aside, I am excited to see where Ichiban Kasuga goes next as it seems the future of the series is filled with possibility.

In the summer of 2014, I first had a chance to experience Mafia II. Something about the story of Vito Scaletta as he worked his way up through the mob in the streets of Empire Bay stuck with me. It was a scrappy little game from the Czech Republic with rough edges abound. Nonetheless, it was a delightful experience and it left a lasting desire to eventually, maybe play the original game. Released in 2002 the game had aged out of popular demand and, by and large, became a relic of the past. Even so, some stories have a timeless nature to them and years later the original game was given a true remake.

Mafia is admittedly not a perfect experience, it is a remake of an eighteen-year-old game and it shows. The game is never as smooth as your modern open-world games with clunky movement and aiming throughout. Still, if all remakes held to this level of quality and finesse they may very well all be worth the money. These games have often been maligned for their lack of side content, offering an open world that acts as little more than set dressing for a linear story. That criticism may hold water for some who seek open-world maps filled with busy work, they got theirs with Mafia III, it feels ill-fitting for the series at-large. Mafia, like Mafia II, excels at capturing a time and place. These cities, Lost Heaven especially are a backdrop for wonderful stories to be told. The effort gone into rebuilding Lost Heaven for a new era too reflects a love for literal world-building that not many other games can boast about. Lost Heaven is a city of the 1930s through and through, with an attention to detail so wonderful it is a wonder that you are more often than not speeding past it all in one of the games period-accurate vehicles. But it is more than the streetcars and billboards that sell it.

Lost Heaven more than anything else is defined by the people who live there. The cast of Mafia is made up of classic mob figures who to the credit of the authors and actors of this story never feel truly stereotypical. As Tommy Angelo stumbles into the employment of Don Salieri and works to become a made man of the organization at no point does the story feel too well-trodden. While the rise and fall of Angelo is well established the twists and turns of a nearly eighteen-year-old story are always gripping. Tommy is an interesting protagonist in that this life, it never seems to come easy to him. As the story develops one can see a growing distance between him and the life, he has no inherent thirst for violence so often seen in mob stories. Angelo stands apart even from later series protagonists Scaletta and Lincoln Clay who to varying degrees throw themselves into the life of violence when the moment calls for it.

The story of Mafia is timeless and to see it given a new coat of paint after all this time is a testament to the quality of its original vision when it can hold its own against some of the years biggest hits. These lists are all about personal tastes, and it is pretty clear that Mafia plays to many of my own. From its slick period setting to its streamlined story it was always going to find a place somewhere on this list. Even so, it is a testament to the quality of the game that it is as superb as it is.

In the last two years I have played a lot of Resident Evil. From the action romps of Resident Evil 5 and 6 to the more subdued Resident Evil 7 and the absolutely thrilling Resident Evil 2 I have seen much of what this series has to offer. With Resident Evil 3‘s remake I continue to see the fantastic structure and horror that I have enjoyed so much in this series. Although it is a bit shorter than last years Resident Evil 2 the game is just as well crafted an experience. Bringing together the horror of Resi 2 with the action brought in later in the series, and you have an excellent high-intensity thriller that sets it apart. Speaking on its strengths there is a clear benefit to returning to Raccoon City. The city is just as amazingly detailed as it was in Resi 2 growing beyond the police station and showing much more of the city before it is blown to hell. Jill Valentine too offers a confident protagonist in a world of uncertainty. With more dimension than many other Resident Evil protagonists Jill’s story is a thrill.

Much like it’s predecessor the game is well designed with rarely with a dull moment or a lag in the story.While some of that may be due to controversial streamlining done in the remake from the original, it remains a rarity in today’s Triple-A space. As games get longer and larger there has been some disappointment with Resident Evil 3 for its shorter length and smaller world. To that I firmly disagree, while it does leave the player wanting more it is better for it. I would rather feel that longing to experience more than feel my time with a game has come to a close long before the credits roll. Nonetheless, this game is not as strong as Resident Evil 2 in the sense that by emphasizing action the tense encounters are made less so. Even with the hulking Nemesis, you are left fearing him less than the brute in a trench coat because you feel more capable than Claire or Leon ever did. Mr. X was terrifying for his size and stability, he was slow and methodical and you couldn’t escape him for long. Nemesis meanwhile appears in blips, fast and strong he can bring a beat down but you often feel more prepared to face him. Even so, Nemesis is not all this game has to offer. It is a painstaking detail and wonderful gameplay leave me wanting more. This is a damn good game, even if it lives in the shadow of its predecessor.

The more time I spend thinking about The Last of Us Part II the more I kind of wish it didn’t exist. The first game was such an amazing experience that following it up at all was a task that was bound to come with a few downsides. There are so many things that could be said about this game, from its story to its characters to the game play in and of itself. Most of it has already been said. The game has been at the center of a hurricane of conversation that has seen bad faith actors cripple any meaningful conversation. Still, Part II is a game that deserves attention because it is a good video game. Very good in fact. But, it is also incredibly frustrating.

The game opens with a two-hour recreation of the death of Sarah from the first game. Not literally mind you, just as Sarah was Joel’s heart and soul, it is now Joel’s turn to meet a brutal and bitter end to give Ellie a reason to hate. Joel and Ellie were for better and worse a pair, their relationship was the heart of the first game. Seeing Joel come back from his own loss connected us to him, to Ellie. Compassion is a powerful motivator, it keeps us going and drives us. Joel and Ellie were for better and worse a pair, and their relationship to is at the heart of the second game. Only now Joel isn’t here. With his death, the game brings on itself a void and no revenge story or redemption arc can fill. To some degree, it doesn’t seem Part II was ever interested in filling up that void.

Part II‘s heart is a sour and cynical analysis on the cycle of violence. It is a painful exercise in theming and emotion. At times it can work wonders, like any good story weaving the emotion into the beats of the story with grace. Other times it can feel as though the story is hitting a delicate pin with a sledgehammer. You are made to be a participant in grisly violence as if you are ever given another option than to just stop playing. Still, that being said you don’t really want to turn off the game. It is not for nothing, the game grips the player for a reason. Ellie’s emotional tailspin drags the player in whether they like it or not. For a time you want to get revenge, most players had a connection to Joel and they want to get even with the goons that killed him. You kill them one by one all the while gaining nothing. Ellie at no point stops to consider her actions, even as new side characters, who never get enough attention, continue to call her attention to the loss of life. By the time of the perspective swap between Ellie and Abby the player is exhausted. The chase is too much, the violence too much. Seeing Abby’s perspective sympathizes the player to her. Yet, all the while she is never justified for the death of Joel. The game knows this, Abby is haunted by her actions. This is how they deliver the grander message, that violence achieves nothing. There is no catharsis that comes from death. Abby and Ellie both lose more than they ever gain from the bloodshed of this story. Still, they fight until the bitter end.

In that way, Part II achieves its goals. With as much as this game does right, and wrong, I can’t help but think of what it could have been. For one, Abby’s story is infinitely more interesting than Ellie’s, yet as you play through it you know most of the supporting cast is dead. Lev and Yara breathe new energy into the story, though even they are lacking proper time to develop. This game is trying to do so much at once, that it fails to give any one story its full attention. Is it about Ellie and Joel? No. Is it about Abby and Lev? No. Is it about the conflict between the WLF and the Seraphites? No. Is it about the conflict between Abby and Ellie? Still mostly not. It is a game about the theme of violence, and violence does not tell a story on its own.

At the end of the day, Part II is an excellently crafted game with slick mechanics, enjoyable movement, and flow of combat. It is beautiful and haunting, with performances that deserve immense recognition. Still, it shines brightest when it diverts away from the violence, to tell stories of connection in a broken world. Joel and Ellie’s time in the museum is the best section of the game and it is a fleeting moment of hope in a game so averse to the notion. Although even as wonderful as that scene was I don’t know if they should have ever brought Joel and Ellie back. Their story was done. They could have told a story of Abby without ever seeing those two again. Now, all we are left with is the dichotomous perspective of this world of Ellie and Abby. Both bad people who have done bad things and are deeply scarred by the destruction they have wrought. I can only hope that if this series does go on it can offer more about how we come together, rather than what tears us apart.

At its core Tell Me Why is a genuine experience with a lot of love and care having gone into it. Still, it is a game that is so afraid to go so boldly into new territory that it wraps up every edge in bubble wrap. The game’s central conflict focuses on twins Alyson and Tyler Ronan coming to terms with the death of their mother several years ago. It a simple plot and one the game delivers on quite well. The death of their mother and the dueling threads of memory that linger on is meat enough for the three-episode length. Even so, the game carries a weight on its shoulders entirely self-imposed.

Over the course of the stories it is revealed that after she seemingly threatened a young Tyler’s life after he had approached her with cut hair to come out, the result saw Alyson kill her mom to protect Tyler. While Tyler’s identity as a trans-man is a monumental step in representation for games media there is an unease that follows. As one plays through Tell Me Why they might soon notice that the prospect of getting it “wrong” lingers around every kind interaction. You spend chapter after chapter in a rural Alaskan town where everyone, including the gun toting conservative animal poacher and staunch Christian/ (former) conversion camp activist, is supportive of Tyler’s identity. This is not to say that Dontnod should have made the character the victim of relentless harassment, simply that they never challenge Tyler nor their own writing. Tyler’s identity itself certainly feels authentic and well written, yet the world around him is padded. When trans-phobia is present it is completely toothless, there is no attempt to face trauma around bigotry. It is a missed opportunity if only for the reality that so few games have transgender character, let alone protagonists, that they really could have been daring and chose not to be. It seems an odd choice given that had they simply avoided the subject and let Tyler exist as he does these critiques may not merit much discussion.

Moving beyond Tyler’s identity you will find the real core of the story. Believing that his mother’s mental break on the night of her death was as a result of his coming out, Tyler feels some incredible guilt taking the blame for her death and going away to a boarding facility. Upon his release he reunites with his sister where the game sees the two facing their past as they prepare to part with their childhood for good. In the course of this they discover truths of their mother, their town, and themselves through the fragility of their own memory. This is helped along by a storybook analogue of their lives, the Book of Goblins, a handcrafted fantasy told by their mother that aids the twins in recovering their past. Put together with the twins ethereal memory recollection abilities, Tell Me Why does well with its examination the fragility of memory and trauma. In the end, the game can often feel as though it is fighting against itself losing its focus along the way. A good heartfelt story, still growing in weariness in comparison to Dontnod’s earlier efforts with the Life is Strange series.