PREVIOUSLY ON METROID: Samus Aran, galactic hero, nemesis of the evil space pirates, and bounty hunter who to my knowledge has never actually Hunted a Bounty, commits genocide.

this isn't a game theory or another example of a leftist unwilling to read a game in a way that isn't materialistic (i mean. not entirely, anyway...), this is just textually what occurs in Metroid 2. Samus touches down on SR388 and doesn't leave its surface until she's exterminated every single Metroid, except one, a final act of mercy that's immediately dropped off for invasive scientific study.

difficult to approach and often really quite tedious, Metroid 2 is nonetheless a truly remarkable game accurately described by FMTownsParty (https://www.backloggd.com/u/FMTownsParty/review/1831/) as an "art game for the Game Boy", and something of a black sheep in Nintendo's vast catalogue. it's a game I respect immensely even if I will probably never play it again, and its uniqueness stands out all the more for the abject failure of its twin remakes to replicate it, even if they are accomplished works in their own right, and one of my sticking points with Super Metroid, a game I like but cannot bring myself to love, is that it largely excises these more narratively complex elements in favor of something far more traditional. super metroid is an exceedingly fine game, but it doesn't really go for it, y'know?

thankfully, Metroid: Fusion makes up for it's predecessor by going for it harder than few games could ever hope to match.

becoming a new kind of life-form made out of the DNA of the single act of mercy you offered to a species you exterminated only to find yourself hunted by the physical embodiment of that past extermination wearing your face and using your powers is enough of a killer hook to hang an entire game out of but somehow Fusion just keeps going, adding layer upon layer of incisive thematic work interrogating it's central character relentlessly, until it cements itself as (with the possible exception of Majora's Mask) the single most thematically rich, narratively accomplished nintendo game with no input from Shigesato Itoi. every pixel of this game is bursting with resonance and detail and purpose that is near un-rivalled. fusion isn't just the best metroid game, it's one of the best games, period.

i think we've mostly chilled out on decrying Fusion for its linearity, but i wanna highlight what the game's structure does to serve it. the game's loop is simple: you arrive in a sector, adam tells you roughly what you need to do and why, and then you go do that thing, usually with some little hidey-holes you can poke in along the way to get an upgrade. but within this loop, the information you are given and the information that is withheld is pointed. even before the big reveals it's clear just how much the federation is manipulating and lying to you, and as you question your orders more and more, the game widens the scope it offers you, going from your first run in sector 1 being practically on-rails to the sections where the game lets go of the reins entirely, inviting you to find the path forward on your own, which are inevitably the moments where you push up against and bomb your way through the walls of the conspiracy around you. portal wishes it could do this as well.

everything about the storytelling in this game is so incisive, so pointed. the way the game emphasizes the destructive/predatory nature of Samus by making clear that you are not only the reason for the X's existence, by wiping out its natural predators, the Metroids, from the ecosystem, but also for it's spread throughout the station, as the AI reminds you that by opening up other areas, you are letting the X spread into them. the federation and samus' intertwined culpability in this incident is never left in doubt, the very act of playing a Metroid game, of increasing your ability to navigate this space, is toxic and bringing about it's destruction.

this culminates in one of the most remarkable sequences in the game and, indeed, the series, when you trick your way into the restricted zone and discover, inevitably, that the federation is breeding metroids. for "peaceful purposes", they claim. contrary to the game's reputation as constantly talking (Samus has some internal narration but it's genuinely quite sparse, and her actually talking back to the AI at the end is a big moment) this entire sequence, from the reveal to the knife-twisting that is the SA-X showing up to do as Samus does: butcher Metroids, to the final escape, where you drift upwards through an elevator shaft filled with other metroids - your kin, now - it's all done wordlessly, and communicates far more complicated feelings than anything in Super Metroid.

more than Other M could ever conceive, Fusion is about Samus. her destructive and violent past in the prior metroids, and her current status, a tool of the federation that they are preparing to discard once they find multiple, mass-produced SA-Xs they believe they can control. after all, why not? they controlled Samus, at least up to a certain point. the way the game pulls back its tight linear pacing ever so slightly as the story reaches its climax communicates Samus' push for personal autonomy beautifully, which is why I wish the ending was just a little tighter.

don't get me wrong, it's a knockout in many respects. facing the SA-X, the embodiment of what Samus once was, and triumphing over it with the new(ish) powers you've obtained from interfacing and embracing the life forms you destroy is a fantastic final battle, as is the last-minute reprise of being saved by the baby metroid. much-mocked as it is, I actually like the Fusion one far better, because rather than being a straightforwardly paternalistic relationship, the SA-Xs motives are far more obscured. is this the Samus part of it? or is it the X, protecting what could be the last remnant of its existence inside Samus? or is it a bittersweet reclamation and restating of Samus Aran as the one who kills the Metroids? it could be all of them, and that's why I like it. i like metroid when it's not doing gender, frankly. i like it, even more, when Samus Aran is ultimately saved by the funny little animals she saves innocuously around halfway through the game. i think that's why i like samus, ultimately, despite her genocidal tendencies, despite the fact that she is absolutely someone who would take away one of her hands, one of the ways she is able to reach out and embrace the world around her, with a gun. here, at the end, she still has enough good in her to save people.

which brings me to the actual sore point with the ending: Adam. there's a generous read to be made on the game's depiction of Adam for much of it, and I maintain that the game is genuinely critical of him as a person, as the twin reveals of him actively deceiving Samus throughout the adventure and also being the actual mind of Adam Malkovich do much to paint the picture of a kind of shitty military guy that Samus is all too willing to absolve him due to her own guilt. the problem is, of course, the Gender. the "any objections, lady?" shit and Samus' frankly embarrassing "no wait hold on it's fine actually his misogyny is secretly woke come on" is hard to swallow and impossible to muster the enthusiasm to do so after Sakamoto went on to write and direct Metroid: Other M, a fucking dumpster fire with the biggest gender essentialist TERF energy imaginable. Other M's very existence makes it a bit harder to be generous to Fusion in the way that I would like to.

there's so much to like about the end of this game, but there's just a twinge of (ahem) Dread it envokes. from the (genuinely forgotten by me until this most recent playthrough) backpedaling of Samus' revolutionary act against the government by Adam insisting that "someone (in government) will understand" to the aforementioned gender, there are things about it that could be taken in a bad direction. nevertheless, it's hard to hold the mistakes of the future, be they in Other M or, potentially, in Dread, against Fusion too hard. it remains an absolutely singular work that I love dearly, a thematic embarrassment of riches that deserves to stand up and be counted as a true classic.

i didn't even mention how much fun it is to shoot da guys! it's very fun. five stars.

ℑ’𝔪 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞 𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔞𝔱𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔢. ℑ𝔱'𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔖𝔠𝔬𝔱𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡. ℭ𝔬𝔞𝔱𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔊𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔤𝔬𝔴 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔫 2001 𝔦𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔭𝔬𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 ℑ𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔥 ℭ𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔰 𝔭𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔞𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔞 𝔞𝔫𝔶𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔬𝔲𝔱𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔬𝔣 ℑ𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡.

ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡𝔫’𝔱 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔞𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔞 𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔴𝔞𝔰𝔫’𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔩 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔰 14. 𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 ℑ 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔭𝔢𝔬𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔯 𝔦𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔪𝔰, ℑ 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡. ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡𝔫'𝔱 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔰 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 ℑ’𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔴. 𝔐𝔶 𝔪𝔲𝔪 𝔰𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔞 𝔩𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔬𝔬. 𝔖𝔞𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 “𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔟𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔶𝔬𝔲” 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔭𝔢𝔬𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔤𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔰.

𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝕮𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖈 𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖑𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖓𝖔𝖓-𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖑𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝕮𝖔𝖆𝖙𝖇𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖌𝖊. 𝕴 𝖉𝖎𝖉𝖓'𝖙 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖊𝖝𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗. 𝕴𝖓 𝕽𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝕰𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖘, 𝖜𝖊 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝕮𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖘 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖛𝖊.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝕴 𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝕴 𝖙𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝕴 𝖙𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖇𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖚𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖚𝖕𝖇𝖔𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖆𝖘𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌. 𝕳𝖊 𝖙𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖎𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖐 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝕴’𝖉 𝖉𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖊. 𝕴 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖚𝖕 𝖆 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖒𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖇𝖆𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖆𝖓 𝕬𝖈𝖙 𝕺𝖋 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝕳𝖆𝖎𝖑 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖞𝖘. 𝕴 𝖉𝖎𝖉 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖎𝖙’𝖘 𝖔𝖐𝖆𝖞 𝖇𝖊𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖒𝖞 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖕𝖆 𝖌𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖒𝖊 £𝟑𝟎 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖉𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖊𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖚𝖞 𝕲𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖓𝕰𝖞𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕹𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖔 𝟔𝟒.

𝕬𝖙 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖑 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖔𝖘, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖆 𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖙𝖚𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖎𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖉𝖎𝖉𝖓’𝖙 𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖆 𝖘𝖆𝖋𝖊 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖓𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖞 𝖉𝖎𝖔𝖈𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖘-𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖉 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖓𝖚𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖋𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖍𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝖈𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖘. 𝕳𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖋𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌. 𝕳𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖕𝖊𝖔𝖕𝖑𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖙 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖆𝖙 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖑. 𝕬 𝖋𝖊𝖜 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓 𝖆𝖋𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖉 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖛𝖔𝖜𝖘.

𝓘’𝓿𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓮𝔁 𝓮𝓭𝓾𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓮, 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓼𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓵𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓢𝓬𝓸𝓽𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓹𝓾𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓽𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷. 𝓞𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓵 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓷 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓸 𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝔀𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓴. 𝓜𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓖𝓪𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓷, 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓻𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰.

𝓐 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓾𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓮𝔁 𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓰𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭, 𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷, 𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓷𝓪𝓷𝓬𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓐𝓘𝓓𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓗𝓘𝓥. 𝓗𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓐𝓘𝓓𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓗𝓘𝓥 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝓭𝓲𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼. 𝓐𝓘𝓓𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓖𝓸𝓭’𝓼 𝓹𝓾𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓹𝓮𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝔂 𝓼𝓪𝓬𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓸𝓷𝔂. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓘 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓵𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓶𝔂 𝓬𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓸𝓷 𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓯 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓼𝓮𝔁.

𝓐𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓘 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓸𝓭 𝓓𝓮𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓯𝓲𝓰𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓾𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓮𝔁𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮, 𝓘 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓹𝓻𝓪𝔂𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓾𝓷𝓲𝓸𝓷. 𝓘 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮-𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮. 𝓘𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓵 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓭𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓪 𝓳𝓸𝓫 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓵'𝓼 𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓿𝓪𝓵𝓾𝓮𝓼.

𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘤𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘛𝘰𝘶𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘤𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘤𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘔𝘤𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘊𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵-𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵.

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝟸𝟷, 𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙶𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚐𝚘𝚠 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙲𝚘𝚊𝚝𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙾𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝, 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚖 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙿𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗 𝙿𝚊𝚞𝚕 𝙸𝙸 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙰 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙸 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚑.

Admirable in the aesthetic sense, a modern-day revival of the Newgroundspunk manifesto that aided and abetted the creation of illegal little serotonin dispensers built from the pixellated bones of beloved franchises. It's about time folks were allowed to charge a couple of quid for this sort of thing - lawyers be damned! A miracle that it can walk around in Castlevania's skin and replicate its movements without anyone narcing to Konami; this is the Steam equivalent of that scene from Spider-Man 2 where everyone carries the unmasked Peter Parker down the train carriage without giving him up to Doc Ock.

As far as gameplay goes, though, I think this is somewhat abject and miserable. It gets its gamefeel just right, but locks satisfaction behind rote roguelite tedium and digital dicerolling, forcing you to relive its early-game boredom again and again until you have the means to boost ahead to the good stuff. It feels like a progression model that games just can't move on from, a skinner box that aims to rack up Steam hours punctuated with the fleeting thrills the store page promised you. Another "podcast game" in the pejorative sense, something your friend will recommend to you while frowning or shrugging.

God I love how people who don't like this talk about it. From the outside you'd think it was some insanely transgressive thing. Gaming's "A Serbian Film". Some real visceral reactions.

It is merely some of the best "Brain off, number go up" fun I've had in ages. At times I thought it was gonnae crash from the amount of projectiles and effects layering the screen, slowing the framerate down to the teens, which made it even funnier and added to the daft power trip. Cost me like £2 and isnae trying to rinse me of my dosh through microtransactions. I don't see the problem.

It's great fun when YOU are the bullet hell.

some delightfully goopy visuals and sets aside, i am honestly stunned by how completely this failed to work for me. i am by no means one of the resi 6 faithful but i found myself constantly wishing i was playing that while trudging my way through this turgid exercise in insecurity. this to me far more aptly demonstrates the air of extreme desperation many people accused resi 6 of, a supremely unconfident attempt to play catchup to an entire history of the horror zeitgeist. texas chainsaw massacre, evil dead, the shining, the ring, blair witch, the hills have eyes, escape rooms, even america's most haunted and ghostwatch...it's all been thrown in and blended together until all that remains is a tasteless textureless black sludge.

the found footage angle is one i found particularly shockingly poor, as someone who counts the blair witch project a personal favorite, and who jumped back into resi 7 because of letshugbro's reflections on this point. aside from the reality show pastiche at the start (easily the highlight of the game for me) there is absolutely zero consideration at any point given to the camera or it's presence or physicality: we simply plainly see through the eyes of the character with a generic vhs filter put over it. it's brazenly pillaging the most basic imagery signifiers of this form possible without a single iota of consideration for the intent or form, purely cynical exploitation in the meanest sense of the word, a reference to it's influences as shallow as a MCU quip.

this is the entire game, a rickety haunted house built on the thinnest veneer imaginable, where every element is never deeper than the skin. the stiff and robotic movements of the bakers, with their glitchy animations, clinically transactional relationship with the player, and scripted sequences based almost entirely on simply waiting around running in circles for the switch to flip in their head that makes them do something that lets you progress, annihilates any sense of organic living atmosphere the game strains to affect, revealing these walking pathfinding algorithms for what they really are. the overtures towards being a return to classic resident evil is similarly merely an illusion that falls apart under moderately close inspection: the inventory management and shared stash is here but the considered map and encounter design that necessitates careful planning and macro-tension across the experience is wholly absent, a build of resources towards a payoff that never arrives, a series of engagements against a single enemy type that never meaningfully intimidates or frightens. a fractured facsimile of classic resident evil is here, but none of the effects it produced is, and what remains is a tedious series of empty frictionless jogs between item transactions to unlock the next area of this vacuous escape room.

if all this wasn't enough, biohazard might honestly be in contention for the narrative low point of the series as i have experienced it. at least resident evil 5 has wesker. the game sure mentions the word "family" a lot but anything it might have to say about that is rendered so completely incoherent by this dangerous combination of shockingly underwritten narrative and tedious "the writer has just had a bad breakup" misogynistic energy that it can scarcely be believed. i was wondering whether or not this was a 1-star or 2-star affair but learning that not being unflinchingly loyal to your cartoonishly evil wife (whose evil is basically never so much as remarked upon by a game that instead chooses to heap infinite mean-spirited scorn upon a child turned by her and her compatriots into a bioweapon) gives you an unexpected Wrong Ending an hour after you make that one choice is what made me decide on the score i did. i am by no means going to defend the travails of prior entries like resident evil 5, but at least that game has been deservedly dragged through the mud for it's perspective. the fact that, five years on, the nightmarishly terrible gender politics of this title have gone almost completely unremarked upon speaks volumes to the degree to which mainstream critics in this medium are completely willing to turn the blinkers on for anything that affects even the thinnest veneer of Western Prestige.

like i say, the word of the day is desperate. frantically pillaging from every horror movie it can find without any care for intent or meaning or context, desperately floundering for relevancy in a world that rejected the apex of what it was pushing towards post resi 4. and yet, ironically, despite my total failure to invest in it, resident evil 7 can only be called a success in terms of reinvigorating the series and giving it a new direction: theme park horror, a series of shallow pastiches, a linear sequence of homage, that has laid the groundwork for the tremendous critical and financial success of resident evil village. and for those who are loving this direction i say, go with god, but there is no way in hell i am getting on board a rollercoaster with foundations as completely rotten as this.

The nice thing about Nintendo Switch Online for old people like me is that you get a little involuntary nostalgia hit every couple of months. I wouldn’t download and emulate Mario Party of my own volition, but something about it being readily available on my Switch just makes the access to those old memories so much more enticing - even when said memories now launch with an updated warning about how they can cause permanent damage to the palm of your hand.

Funny story about this game - my younger brother and I had it in our heads that it was possible to be skilled at it. Our misguided belief that the winner of a game of Mario Party was in some way deserving of recognition and admiration eventually came to a head when our neighbour - who didn’t own or play video games of any kind whatsoever at any time - played a round with us one rainy afternoon. He came out comfortably 3 stars ahead at the end of 50 turns, brutally shredding our fragile preteenage egos to tatters. This trauma sent my brother crazy, and he had to be locked in the bathroom for an hour because he was quite simply going completely apeshit-crackers at the notion that someone who didn’t even hold the N64 controller correctly could beat him at a game he’d played for a hundred hours. Very funny to recall his little cheeky face lying on a floor sodden with Chance Time-induced tears. Great game.

You can jape endlessly about the unfairness of the original Mario Partys, but there’s nothing you can really say that’s more amusing than participating in it. Taking huge inspiration from the capitalist chaos of Monopoly, this is definitely one of Nintendo’s most postmodern games, directly stating on many occasions that the rules are made up and the coins don’t matter. It revels in unfairness and mean-spiritedness (literally, with the inclusion of a robber Boo) in a way I imagine Shigeru Miyamoto would frown very hard at, and I presume the meaning of Bowser hollering “That’s often the way things go in life!” while tap-dancing on the spot as Mario wails about being mis-sold a suspicious “super duper star” for the tidy sum of 200 coins just completely passed me by as a kid. Just like the game of Life, the lesson to be learned here is that no matter how carefully plot your course and how hard you twirl your joystick, all the money in your bank can be swept away in an instant because some stupid prick stepped on a big red button with your face on it.

"My slumber was disturbed by a mighty roar heard across worlds. On every world, a CRISIS. On every alternative, a new apocalypse. A doomsday. A last judgement. A conclusion that never comes but continues to arrive. An endless EVENT."

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When I first wrote about Halo Infinite, I described it as where you need to go to find an avatar of the Modern AAA game experience. Having now finished the campaign, I would like to expand that further to include the modern media landscape as a whole in 2022.

Halo Infinite begins without beginning, and ends without ending. It is an eternal middle, starting after everything is established and stopping before anything is concluded, a promise of content to come, an eternal conflict Master Chief wages to stop Halo from being fully reborn, that in it's waging produces a thousand tiny moments of HaloTM content to enjoy. Or, perhaps, not even to enjoy; to simply consume, one after another, turning blue icons grey until there are no blue icons that remain, until the next feast of Blue Icons arises, until the wheel turns again.

In a world where each day, we are presented with news headlines demonstrating time and time again that the pillars that make up our modern world are in fact the very same thing choking the life out of it, it is perhaps unsurprising that the Shared Universe, previously the niche domain of geek franchise fodder that produced such delightful ephemera as the Yuuzhan Vong or Faction Paradox, has emerged as the definitive modern storytelling mode. How else do we justify the obscene contradictions of the world in which we live than by performing necromantic rituals on dead worlds and stories, ensuring they stretch on forever and ever, insisting upon their own existences far beyond memory and relevancy or even their own endings. A world where marvel superheroes can face their Endgame and keep going, a world where The Dead Speak, and, of course, a world where Master Chief continues to fight the good fight forevermore, clearing outposts on the infinite sprawl of Zeta Halo.

Do you remember Halo 5: Guardians? Halo Infinite, hopes you do and do not, at the exact same time. That game happened, to be sure - the illusion of the Shared World cannot allow something like a game with a number attached to simply Not Occur without shattering the shared delusion of meaning and import that continuity represents - but it was followed by a phantom Halo 6 that never came out, a game that resolved the conflict with The Created that Halo 5 set up, a game where Master Chief had his tearful final confrontation with Cortana, a game that properly introduced The Banished and established them as an equal threat to the UNSC, a game that conveniently resets everything to it's most comfortably anthromorphic and predictable states. The green guy and the aliens on the ringworld, the rebel alliance and the empire. On and on it goes. Halo 6 exists now only as a wound that Infinite spends the entirety of it's runtime picking at, a gap in space and time that exists only to be filled in by content, audio logs and and lore podcasts and theory videos, Content upon Content, nothing but Content in this blasted land. Master Chief emerges from this black hole of a Game That Never Was to find Halo in the process of rebooting itself, and wearily sets himself to prevent that goal. Bereft of advancement, regressing to the Iconic Version of himself, and aided always by a false simulacra made by the image Cortana represented in prior games, against a nameless, faceless enemy, literally called The Endless, always out of sight and out of firing range, dangled forever in front of the Chief as he runs along on the hamster wheel of Halo's corpse forevermore, listening to the voices of ghosts explaining what happened in games that never were, all the while, a Final, True and Ultimate Threat hangs just out of reach, an Empty Hand holding an Energy Sword of Damocles that will never, ever fall.

This is Halo: Infinite. The promise of ephemera, imagery, and writing that once Meant Something, that had cultural and artistic significance emerging from the time it was created, placed into a vacuum-sealed Platform to sustain itself in perpetuity, without beginning or end, a mobius loop greedily devouring it's own tail because there remains nothing else. An existential nightmare existence without progress or retreat, where Master Chief fights forever against an enemy he cannot ever defeat, yet cannot ever defeat him in turn. Where the only victory to be found is the perpetuity of the world that Is, stretching on forever and ever. The Covenant can become The Banished, the Empire can become The First Order, Dark Souls can become Elden Ring, Overwatch can become Overwatch 2, but nothing can ever actually change. Nothing can actually evolve, not even combat. The world can never be allowed to end, to die, to allow new flowers to sprout from it's corpse as it becomes a part of the earth that spawns it. No matter what happens, Master Chief must always be on a Halo, shooting a grunt with a battle rifle.

And it's still fun to shoot a grunt with a battle rifle. But it's been over 20 years since Combat was said to Evolve. When will the war end? Will it ever, or are we trapped in a perpetual conflict with an enemy that is both tremendously weak and cowardly and infinitely powerful and terrifying? When will the galaxy be at peace? When will the covenant finally be defeated? When will Durandal look back on the world that was, and wonder who we were? How many more Ancient Evils remain to be defeated? How many more Banished/Covenants exist to be broken? How many more Grunts are there to be shot with my Battle Rifle? When will the credits roll, when will the screen fade to black, when will anything come to an actual, true end?

I don't know. But I know I'll probably play the DLC. Because I don't know the way out of this world any more than you do. And at the end of the day, bereft of anything better, I'll keep shooting grunts in the face with a battle rifle.

Three stars.

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"'In the End'? Nothing ends, Adrian. Nothing ever ends."

I’m sure the learned scholars of Backloggd will already be familiar with I, We, Waluigi: a Post-Modern analysis of Waluigi, a foundational lens through which we can view almost every video game mascot ever conceived - Ms. Pac Man, Ken Masters, Evil Ryu, Roxas, Shadow Mario, Dark Link, Dark Pit, Dark Prince, Dark Samus, and, of course: Shadow the Hedgehog. But who is Shadow the Hedgehog? Following the tenets of Waluigi Theory, it’s safe to say he’s a copy of the individual shaped by the signifier - a stencil-clone of Sonic the Hedgehog, who himself exists as a reflection of Super Mario, having been created for the express purpose of giving his codemasters a jumping mascot to stick on the box of a video game machine¹. Appropriate then that this black-furred badass lab rat would be called Shadow, existing as he does in the literal shadows of his progeniting mascots. You think I’m taking the piss, right? Well, Shadow the Hedgehog (the game) thinks the same thing I do about Shadow the Hedgehog (the character): that Shadow is just that - a shadow, an unindividual who ceases to exist when Sonic the Hedgehog inevitably moves from the light. And in the year 2005, Sonic the Hedgehog was almost standing in the dark.

Shadow the Hedgehog’s writing team, keenly aware that the 8 year olds playing the game may not have read the works of Swiss semiotician Ferdinand de Saussure, choose to expound this metaphor in a more explicit manner, and centred it in the game’s narrative. Shadow the Hedgehog (the game) begins with a literal Judgement Day, The Creator appearing to Shadow the Hedgehog (the character) in a biblical vision evocative of Exodus 3:3. The Black Doom asks: I created you, but who or what are you? And what form shall you take? Follow my commandments, and you can become as God. (Though unlike the Bible, Shadow the Hedgehog is more interested in getting you to follow the tenets of Collect 8 Orbs than not making unto thee any graven image) Late in the events of Shadow the Hedgehog (the game), it is revealed that Shadow the Hedgehog (the character) isn’t actually Shadow the Hedgehog at all, but in fact an android replica of Shadow the Hedgehog who is imitating the memories and actions of his predecessor, Shadow the Hedgehog. The shadow must define itself in a battle between the unconscious aspect of the self and the conscious ego that does not identify in itself, or the entirety of the unconscious; that is, everything of which a person is not fully conscious. In short, Shadow the Hedgehog is the unknown.

And how does the unknown choose to define itself? Well, this Sega of America-developed video game takes place during the great uncertainty of the War on Terror. Not just in the figurative sense that the game came out four years after 9/11; it literally places Shadow’s mission to collect the Chaos Emeralds in the middle of a war between the United States government (referred to in-game as Westopolis) and an enemy ‘terror force’ called “the black aliens” (the US President in the game always uses this term for them!! that shit is NOT a coincidence baby!!!!). As with his foray into Saussurian philosophy, Takashi Iizuka doesn’t quite trust the patrons of DeviantArt to grasp the nettle of his argument he’s making here, and eventually has to have characters say things like “we don’t negotiate with terrorists!” and “if you’re not with me, you’re against me!”. Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of the Sith was released six months earlier.

To tie a bow on the whole treatise, the war is ultimately hijacked by a hypercapitalist/industrialist force - lead by a Northrop Grummanesque Dr. Robotnik - who reveals that Shadow the Hedgehog (the android) isn’t actually an android, but is in fact the original Shadow the Hedgehog (the character) after all, conditioned to believe he was an android replica of himself for a purpose the game doesn’t explain. Presumably the developers trusted the player to digest such philosophical matters on their own time, so allow me to explain the game’s message: capitalism has created your character, Shadow the Hedgehog, a being who can only exist in reference to other things. Shadow is the true nowhere man/hedgehog, without the other things he reflects, inverts and parodies he has no reason to exist. Shadow’s identity only comes from what and who he isn’t – without a wider frame of reference he is nothing. He is not his own man. In a world where our identities are shaped by our warped relationships to brands and commerce we are all Waluigi Shadow the Hedgehog.

To sum up this game in a sentence: Charmy Bee leads an assault on a United States federal prison.

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¹ Super Mario himself is a reference to Jump Man (star of Donkey Kong (1983)), who was in turn an homage to Nintendo of America’s Brooklyn landlord. This arguably makes Shadow the Hedgehog the inversion of a reflection of a copy of a signifier of Mario Segale, a 62 year old landlord.