There are tons of games that demand time. A lot of time. Potentially a dozen hours at the bare minimum before the game finally puts a hand on your shoulder and whispers that it's about to get good. For real, this time. I just finished Super Mario Bros. Wonder and that took me less than 8 hours even after toying around with extra challenges. So when you ask of me to invest over twice of that into a game that is still unwrapping itself, this can be a bit daunting.

Xenoblade 2 can indeed be very daunting. It spans several maps of decent size. It piles one game system upon another even deep into the story. It maintains multiple different types of quests, items and features all at the same time. Its combat system will take multiple hours to unravel and evolve. And its story quite literally takes an entire half to properly come together.

And I also really, really love this game.

Yeah, I don't really have anything to add. Xenoblade Chronicles 2 has plenty of issues - in story, in tone, in presentation and gameplay, and I both understand why some would prefer the first game, while others will be turned off by its pretty poor first impressions. But man once it gets going, it GETS GOING.

Alrest is an absolutely amazing setting filled to the brim with so much variety in its scenery, and its various cultures as well as the political intrigue of its major nations are very compelling. And I love how it builds upon the concept of the first game by expanding on the Titans as gigantic lifeforms that double as quasi-continents. The art direction is superb, very on par with the first game and in my humble opinion sometimes even surpasses it thanks to wider range of environments. And the atmosphere is just perfect, thanks to subtle color changes and an outstanding soundtrack courtesy of Yasunori Mitsuda, ACE, Kenji Hiramatsu and Manami Kiyota.

I know it's controversial, but I also really enjoy the Blade system. Yes, some designs are iffy and the luck aspect of rolling a Rare Blade can get from annoying to frustrating... But they have a good variety, it's fun to mix and match them between different playable characters and their side quests tend to be among the more fun ones in the whole game. I also really enjoy the Merc System, and how it ties to the mercenary camp on Uraya which you can keep investing in and growing.

Like man, I don't know I just love this game so much, warts and all. Its first half is somewhat suffocated by some silly shenanigans and reliance on some annoying tropes, but as it goes on it really unfolds into a pretty massive epic with lovable characters and some hard-hitting drama. The character designs can be a bit much, but the actual artstyle employed to them makes them feel so much more expressive and emotive than in XB1, and I ended up loving all of them because they all felt fleshed-out and went through some interesting development both with their partners and by themselves. I just can't hate Rex, man. Salvager Boy is such a pure cinnamon roll and yet he somehow manages to rizz up at least three superpowered weapon girls with the ability to nuke half the world.

And speaking of characters, Malos and Jin are some of my favorite villains in a game to date. I especially like that they and their team are designed by NEMURA, and the way it plays out makes them feel like you're facing a Final Fantasy protagonist party gone rogue, I wish they had more time to flesh out the other members but it's still such a thrill ride against them. And I find both Jin and Malos to be genuinely intriguing opponents to face, gradually shedding away their archetypical facades to come off as human and even somewhat sympathetic by the end of it.

So yeah, that's some of the things I have to say on Xenoblade 2. It's far from perfect, but I just love it so much. It's absolutely insane this was produced by a core team of 40 people, because there is so much to see here, and so much of it is also surprisingly fleshed-out and given attention to, that I can't help but admire it just as much. If you can look past its slow start and other rough edges, you're in for a treat.

Despite originating as THE 2D platform game, it's hard not to feel that Mario gradually neglected some of its roots once 3D became the dominant perspective in most high profile games. Mario began to embrace the additional dimension in some of the most creative and enjoyable ways Nintendo could exploit it, but whereas the likes of 64, Sunshine, Galaxy, 3D World and Odyssey all enjoyed careful attention from the Big N, even when Nintendo revived the 2D side under the New Super Mario Bros. label, there was a feeling those didn't get quite the same love and attention as expected from a major Nintendo title.

Super Mario Bros. Wonder, released a whole decade after the last NSMB game, feels like it was designed specifically to address it.

Right from the very beginning the most notable thing you'll notice is how expressive and vivid this game is, especially in comparison to its predecessors. Every level is brimming with dynamic details and bright colors that blend with each other perfectly. Character animations are especially worth of mention with how everything feels so lively and reactive to the rest of the world. Mario slides from one end of the pipe to another and you see him briefly catching his cap before he loses it. Enemies like Goombas keep their eyes on Mario and get frightened if he slams one of them. Background events help adding more depth to the level and it all looks quite pleasant and distinctive. Nintendo cited Wonder as one of its more expensive projects to date, and the results speak for themselves with how beautifully presented the whole package is.

As is the case with a Mario game, it controls borderline perfectly and the mechanics feel tight. The few new transformations added like the elephant fruit are a delight to try out and master, and there are plenty of levels in varying challenges to jump through, using both old enemies and new to keep up the dynamic, evolving feeling of almost each stage.

And of course there is the big standout feature of Wonder, the Wonder flower. The way it bends and twists the backend half of each level is dazzling, from causing a massive stampede of goofy bulls that drag you along to the end, to reviving the skeletons of ancient dragons, to altering Mario's very foundation as he needs to overcome familiar obstacles in new ways. The Wonder Flower is, for the most part, a very fun addition. Although it perhaps also the poster child of Wonder's biggest issues.

Listen, this game is great. Sometimes it's even amazing. It looks as good as a 3D Mario game and it plays tight and fast with plenty of goodies to unlock. It's a Mario game, after all. There is a certain level of quality it is expected to hit, and it certainly delivers on that.

But remember me saying this game felt >specifically designed< to address many of its predecessors' problems? Yeah, as good as Mario Wonder is, it can never escape the feeling that its constant attempts to surprise and delight end up feeling somewhat ingenuine and predictable.

And that's fine, Wonder is by no means a bad or uncreative game. Far from it. But as the game goes on I can't help but feel it didn't quite learn all the lessons its predecessors had to go through. At some point the Wonder effects become less inventive and more... expected. To the point sometimes I'd just go look for them to be done with it rather than actively anticipating them falling to my hands. And ultimately, for all of its attempts to surprise players, it ends up being a fairly 'conventional' release by the end.

And then there are issues that go beyond that, like the fact that aside from the final boss, all boss fights are the same enemy just with some slight changes. For a game drumming up how unique and varied it is, this is a rather disappointing aspect, which in itself fairly surprising so I guess Nintendo did surprise me on one level.

It may sound like I hate this game or not too big on it, but I really did have a lot of fun with Mario Wonder. Perhaps that's all that counts? But for a game acclaimed as a return to form to Mario's 2D roots... It's not quite what one would expect from it. At least in my opinion.

Super Mario Bros. Wonder IS a step in the right direction, and I think it's easily among Mario's best 2D outings. But just like Mercurysteam's Metroid: Dread, it still feels like trying to catch up with the 3D side. SMB Wonder has far more personality than any of its 'modern' predecessors, that's true. But Nintendo still has quite some length to go until this sub-series can match the same charisma and richness as its counterparts, or Donkey Kong Country's level for that matter. The big gorilla's outings still reign as some of the greatest in the genre, from storytelling to art to level design to the entire package. And I can't imagine Mario letting one of his most iconic rivals to one-up him there, right?

But yes, I probably should repeat, for all my issues with Wonder, it's a damn good game, and hopefully it will pave the way for even grander and better successor that will keep pushing Mario to his absolute limits.

As a sequel, Metro: Last Light is undeniably a fascinating one. It's certainly more polished than 2033, while delivering some subtle improvements and modifications to the stealth-horror-action formula. It's absolutely gorgeous, maintaining the combination of creepiness and poignance through its environments, atmosphere and lighting. And it further expands the world of Metro with striking moments and world-building.

At the same time, in the three years since 4A Games unleashed Metro 2033 upon the world, I feel like they took some wrong lessons from contemporary AAA titles. Metro: Last Light is a good game, but as it edges closer to some of the trends that began to pop up around 2033's release, I can't help but feel a little conflicted.

Everything good about 2033 is still here, though. Last Light is a wholly atmospheric affair with intense action and claustrophobic dread. The guns work just as good if not better, and stealth has been further refined with better utilization of its lighting mechanic. Level design has also improved considerably, with even more elaborate stages and even a tiny bit more exploration for resources and other secrets.

Many of the small touches that made 2033 so personal and lifelike are also still here. Artyom's mask will shatter if he takes too much damage in radioactive areas, and he needs to replace it alongside more oxygen when the time necessitates it. You can also clean your visor when it's dirty, and light up your match to burn spider webs or scare off certain enemies. It's those little elements that make the survival feel all the more real. There's nothing new here that wasn't in 2033, but it's all done so well.

At the same time, it's clear 4A or whoever paying for them got some cold feet about 2033's more unforgiving (if still far more manageable than, say, STALKER) nature. It's already evident when you're allowed to pick between a more survival-focused difficulty and a more action-oriented one. Nothing wrong with it, before I continue. I think it's always great to give more options to players. But this does give us the first indication that Last Light's development was partly driven by making it a more 'marketable' title.

There is more affinity for set-pieces here, a little more explosions in the road. The story is more straightforward in its presentation. It's certainly more chatty than 2033. About 80% of the campaign is actually spent being with an ally NPC by your side. Not a bad thing necessarily, but some of the horror and animosity of the setting does lose a bit of itself in the process. The game is also a lot more blatant in other ways of keeping players engaged. There are some eye-candy moments in the game, you can even take a lap dance lol. Games are allowed to have some fun in them, but in Last Light's case this comes off as more forceful and juvenile in comparison to the rest of the game.

And as well all know, survival-horror games can't do boss fights well. FPSs also can't do boss fights well. And as a survival-horror shooter, Last Light has a few of them. There is some great build-up to some of them, but the end result is all the same. It's rather meandering and clunky; neither the arenas nor Artyom's controls are too suited for such encounters. And I'd much rather those times to have been spent on more exciting combat arenas or horror sections that allow better use of Artyom's abilities.

As far as the story goes, it's decent. The environments tell the narrative much better than the actually spoken dialogue, but the overall story arc of Artyom seeking either redemption or damnation for his actions in the previous game is compelling and touching enough to work. Of particular note, Artyom's visits to mass graves of damned souls are especially memorable and haunting.

Well, that's Metro: Last Light. I do like this game. A lot. In some aspects it a much improved successor to 2033. At the same time, it willingly falls into trappings of then-modern trends that its predecessors wisely ignored or remained ignorant of. Either way, this only makes Last Light more fascinating as a video game, and it still accomplishes some of its lofty ambitions to present a truly harrowing yet hopeful tale of redemption even when the world around of you dies. So how can I hate it?

(Specifically, this is based on my experience with Redux)

There is something most endearing about Metro 2033 that makes it stand out in the endless ocean of post-apocalyptic video games.

For starters it does have a rather unique take on the genre, at least when it comes to its setting and perspective. Instead of a post-apocalyptic New York or another American concrete wilderness, Metro is set under Russian soil, within the titular rail system. Even now it feels like a very inspired setting, at least for video games. Coming from the Ukrainian studio 4A Games, this also brings a rather refreshing perspective. Yes, metro 2033 is as bleak and dark as some you'd expect from a post-apocalyptic work, but there is still something very subdued and restrained about its approach that I can't quite put my finger on. So let's dig in to try and find out why's that.

Metro 2033 excels in creating a strong, oppressive atmosphere. The underground settlements are filled with ever-melancholic detail, dimly-lit, over-crowded, filled with coughing and shouting and arguing and despair. It's a sobering image, defied by solidifying the fall of man by his own hand. And in the times we see the outside world, it ain't better. The ruins of Moscow are consumed by eternal nuclear winter, bright and blinding as mutated lifeforms roam and roar and never let you feel safe.

Metro 2033 looks very good, but visuals aren't the only reason why its setting works so well. Sound design is phenomenal, from big devastating moments to the smaller, more frightening situations Artyom finds himself in. The way bunkers echo your footsteps as you walk, the way unchecked electricity zips in the silencing dark. Distant growls and movements from every direction. Artyom's breathing growing heavier as the oxygen in his mask runs out. There are a lot of things one can criticize Metro 2033 for, but sound design is absolutely not one of them.

The story is fine, the storytelling and themes Metro explores are more interesting than the actual plot. The game is great at depicting Artyom's physically- and mentally-demanding journey with all the stops and losses along the way, and it does show the horrible consequences of mankind's nuclear warfare in exquisite detail, but when zoomed a little back, it's a solid if unremarkable narrative. I will give it that, while the characters are not too complex, 4A Games really succeeded in making even some of the redshirts affable and human. And when some of them died, I couldn't help but feel a tad bit of sadness after the fact.

As far as gameplay goes, Metro is more than just serviceable. Guns feel mostly good to fire with, there is limited customization to them too which adds a bit of flavor to the combat. But it's the little touches added that make the experience all the more unnerving, like the need to watch your oxygen tank in radiated areas, or replace your mask if the glasses keeps getting cracked. Some gas-fueled guns require air-pumping to work, and you need to manually power-up your light if you want to see in darker regions. Your visor can also get dirty and you also have the chance to get night goggles. At the heat of combat and especially when Artyom is alone on the road, this can lead to some intense, terrific moments.

The level design is above-average. 4A Games wear its Half-Life inspirations on the sleeve and they do a commendable job for the most part. There is enough space to allow for organic storytelling as well as player agency for enemy-occupied arenas. Some areas can get a little confusing, though. Directions can get unclear despite the linearity of the campaign. Enemy AI can be a bit of hit-and-miss. There are some levels that produce infinite enemies, which is not an inherently bad idea but at some point it becomes more frustrating than terrifying. The final level is a tad disappointing and clunky. But it's nothing deal-breaking overall.

All in all, for a studio debut, Metro 2033 is pretty damn good. It's very rough around the edges, but there is a lot of love and detail poured into this package. I always appreciate a good FPS campaign, and Metro 2033 gave me just that.

Xenoblade Chronicles stands alongside Persona 5 and Dragon Quest XI as one of the greatest, most regarded JRPGs of the 2010s, and for a good reason. At a time the sub-genre was suffering due to market shifts, Xenoblade bursted out with one of the prettiest settings ever depicted in games, and featured countless ambitious ideas that for the most part worked.

But does it still live up to its legendary status?
Hmmm, mostly?

Lemme preface with stating that I played Xenoblade 1 only after first playing Xenoblade 2, so my expectations for the franchise were already altered and partly-formed when I finally picked up Xenoblade 1. And yes, ultimately I do find myself preferring the sequel over the original, but all things considered, the first game still stands the test of time. Beautifully, too.

The standout feature of Xenoblade is its world. Two giant gods standing still and housing countless ecosystems on their backs. In typical RPG fashion you got your jungle area, cave area, mountain area, snow area, industrial area and a mix-up of desert and tropical areas. But what sets them apart from the competition is their outstanding, one-of-a-kind art direction. The various open zones visited all look positively lifelike, mixing some realistic texturing and biomes with the more alien structures, lifeforms and landmarks more associated with fantasy and science fiction. I shouldn't mince words here any further, Xenoblade looks great. It's a beautiful-looking epic brimming with creative imagery.

The same goes to the soundtrack, which always feels like it was composed on nukes. There's so much variety on this front, from the more soothing main theme, to the pleasant and relaxing tunes that play depending in which zone you are, to the absolutely explosive fighting themes that set the hype in whether you fight a regular enemy or a boss.

But even underneath its visual and aural assets, Xenoblade harbors something special. There is something about the open world Monolith crafted that keeps enticing exploration even dozens of hours in. The promise of one day toppling the strongest monsters of the region. The magic of accidentally finding secret zones as you dig deeper. A myriad of quests continuing to open up the longer Shulk's quest goes. A good open world game rewards exploration and curiosity after all, and Xenoblade is successful at that.

I also really like the affinity chart system. I originally didn't pay much attention to it when I started playing but the further I got the more invested I became in some of those NPCs. It's a nice little way to feel like you're actually helping the different communities on the Bionis and Mechonis, and their little stories help conveying the feeling of bonds and loss that is also present in the main story.

As for the story and characters, they're... fine. With the exceptions of Melia and Dunban I don't find the core party THAT interesting. There are some cool twists surrounding Shulk and Fiora, but overall they're fairly vanilla. Same goes for MOST of the villains except Egil. Egil is great. He's menacing. He's philosophical and intelligent. He's LAYERED. He is the centerpiece of one of the best scenes in the whole SERIES (that I played so far). Just for Egil I give the cast a whole two points.

The combat system is serviceable. Its attempts to mix real-time and turn-based combat are great when they work, frustrating when they get tedious. And some characters are inevitably much better to use than others, especially because the ally AI is about as reliable as the Switch's battery life on a road trip.

But it's fun when you get the hang of it. There's a lot of depth and variety if you dig deep into what every character can offer, and you can cook some fantastic combos. one thing I don't like tho, especially early on, is that the Mechon require either Shulk or unique weapons to deal with them. It's no fun to have the need to have Shulk spam his unique ability to hurt Mechon every fight with them during the first half, and then to have the rest of the characters be armed with specific weapons to bypass that.

So overall, that's Xenoblade. It gets a recommendation from me, but be sure to have the free time to really dig into what this game can offer. It's a long, long journey, and it's far from perfect both narratively and mechanically, but it's certainly a worthwhile one regardless of its flaws.

They don't make games like Dishonored anymore, do they?

Arkane Studios' defining title was always a remarkably creative piece of gaming greatness. It was one of the first games in a short-lived (yet still fantastic) revival of the immersive sim family of games. It was a strong addition to the stealth genre, and a rare new original property that managed to both stand out and be rewarded for its accomplishments. And aside from its sequels, there's still isn't anything else quite like it nowadays.

Dishonored has a lot of things going for it, most notably its art direction and setting. Dunwall is a memorable backdrop to the game's events and levels, brought to decaying life with its muted color scheme, Victorian-era architecture and a surprisingly strong combination of period piece, steampunk and dark fantasy imagery. While far from a horror game, Dishonored successfully fills Dunwall's crumbling society and plague-infested threats with never-ending and oppressive dread. And heartbreak, the more you explore the tragic decline of a once-powerful cultural and technological center.

Dunwall is a horrible place to live in, but a fantastic playground for its greatest assassin. The various locations Corvo has to get through during his missions are impeccably designed with multiple routes and options to experiment with and explore. The maps are not outrageously big, instead focusing on carefully-placed alternate paths, secrets, side objectives and additional methods that make you feel clever or sneaky if you find and use them. There is a great, elaborate verticality to each stage, allowing Corvo considerable amounts of freedom to find the perfect spots for takedowns and preparations.

As every good stealth game, Dishonored offers a very useful set of tools at Corvo's disposal. Corvo has a sword, a crossbow with various bolt types, a gun and even mines and grenades for good measure. While his arsenal does skew a little too much toward more violent solutions, it still offers non-lethal options such as a choking takedown and sleep darts. All in all, there is a lot of thought put into maintaining the ability to both go as violently as one pleases, but also spare even your assassination targets from certain death. And of course, courtesy of Dunwall's mythical godlike-slash-diabolical Outsider, Corvo gets a slew of cool superpowers.

The most notable of those powers is Blink, which grants Corvo teleportation. But there are even more powers to unlock and upgrade, like time manipulation and even rat plague, and assuming you have the mana for it, you can use a lot of them in quick succession for your ends or amusement. It's also balanced pretty well, with the more potent and complex abilities demanding more mana, and the game is kind enough to replenish your mana meter with spare elixirs whenever you try to use some of those more energy-consuming feats.

Interestingly, the actual combat system is also fairly robust. There is a strong emphasis on parrying, and enemies are also smart enough to know when to counter your sword, pushing you to time your attacks accordingly. There is some clumsiness to it, but it's more than serviceable and functional enough to be a valid option to utilize from start to finish.

So, the art, world, level design and gameplay are all great. I guess if there's any notable issue with Dishonored is that it's narrative and characters largely fail to do Dunwall's fascinating history and culture much-deserved justice. They're pretty standard-fare as far as the genre goes. There are some fun standouts like the sleazy-yet-honorable Slackjaw, the proud and guilt-ridden assassin Daud and the eccentric and philosophical Sokolov, but for the most part, both the allies and villains you meet across the way are there to fill roles, little more. This also goes to the Outsider who is a rather generic otherworldly benefactor, and Corvo himself, who is merely the player's avatar.

There is also this whole binary morality thing like we've seen in Bioshock and Infamous. It's pretty boring and limiting, but eh, nothing deal-breaking.

I do want to point out that despite the story's banality, the world is still very interesting and there are a lot of background bits to enrich the narrative. And Arkane's animators also did a great job in little bodily expressions to convey better emotion than what the dialogue could offer. Even Corvo - his little weapon swirl whenever he takes out or puts back his gear is a nice little demonstration of his skill and confidence. And while a rather contested point for some, I generally like the character designs. Yes, they can get rather ugly or disheveled, but this feels like a deliberate choice through and through, and even years after its original release, it's still refreshing to see a major AAA game rejecting conventional character designs for something so crude, yet stylized and believable at the same time.

It's not a particularly long game, but this only enhances Dishonored. This is game built for multiple playthroughs with so many scenarios to play out, and its true strength as a versatile slice of stealth-action can be seen as it adapts itself to the player's whims.

Excellent sound design completes an extremely strong package. The voice acting can be a little wooden but it does its job well enough, and every object and footstep can be clearly heard both and used both for advantage and disadvantage.

Dishonored was and remains a triumph of game design. It boasts one of the coolest settings in the medium and despite a thin narrative it's thriving with a personality of its own that both honors its spiritual predecessors such as Thief and System Shock, and modernizes their ideas for new generations. It's a reminder that AAA games can be more than just tedious mechanical kitchen sink, and even a decade later, I hope more studios will get the chance to create more unique, memorable games like this.

Transistor took me aback by how far more ambitious and grand it felt in comparison to Bastion. Had I first played it when it was released my jaw would have dropped by how far Supergiant came with only its second installment.

Transistor is ambitious, perhaps to a fault, but it's still a gorgeous, well-made work with a lot of heart and polish under its cyberpunk vistas and apocalyptic tragedy story. Housing some of Darren Korb's best work, it also has a stellar, intense soundtrack that defines the game's somber tone and hostile atmosphere.

Transistor IS darker than Bastion, maybe the darkest and grittiest of Supergiant's babies. While Bastion's fractured world was no sunshine and flowers, Transistor's post-cyberpunk setting is experienced in the final hours of its existence, and it's haunting. Your only allies are a mechanical sword with a voice and the remnants of a bygone population that powers your abilities, and the streets of Cloudbank are devoid of life. Save for a ruthless robotic force known as the Process.

It's a tragedy through and through, where it becomes clear that our protagonist Red can only soften the fatal wounds of Cloudbank. That is not to say it's constantly grim, though; Logan Cunningham's addictive, smooth narration occupies Red on her journey, and possesses the same dry wit his portrayal of Rocks in Bastion had. In addition, despite lacking her own voice, Red herself proves to be quite funny, usually shown through some subtle animations or the way she can responds to various texts.

At the same time, Transistor is notably more plot-driven than its siblings, and as a result it can feel rather distant. I never felt quite attached to Red or the Transistor itself as I did with the Kid or Zagreus, and the plot's main antagonists - while not one-dimensional - don't get enough screentime to become memorable.

Cloudbank is a fantastic setting and Supergiant's now-iconic aesthetics and art direction were perfected here. It looks crisp, sharp, every corner of the screen is touched with love and care to craft a visually-distinct sci-fi city. The animations and little details are a significant step-up from Bastion, and each ability and power look and sound fantastic.

Unfortunately, while Cloudbank is both simultaneously dazzling and melancholic, Transistor sometimes loses itself in it. Transistor both tries to unravel its world, and cling to it dearly from digging deeper into it. It's almost as if at some point Supergiant planned Transistor to be the first game of a a larger story, only for those plans to get shelved without properly fleshing out its setting and story.

That feeling of uncertainness also creeps to the actual level design. Transistor offers larger arenas for combat and in general a greater sense of scope, but it's also confusing and vague at times. Some routes don't telegraphs themselves well and you might end up locked into the next portion of the story, and this is in spite of the game being fairly linear, much more than its more open-ended but still straightforward predecessor.

But level design is just one aspect of the gameplay, and the combat system rocks. Its combination of real-time action and turn-based tactics work surprisingly well, despite a somewhat steep learning curve early on. Once it clicks, Transistor sings, and it's a sight to see complex attacks get executed to near-perfection. I'm also impressed at the ability (called Functions) selection, allowing the creation of devastating combos and provide solid customization options for your playstyle.

Transistor at once streamlines (by having a singular weapon) and expands upon (by establishing even more unique or versatile abilities) the foundations laid by Bastion, and it's a far more deliberate game than that title. I do wish Red could run faster though, it can get frustrating.

Like Bastion, Transistor is also built to be highly replayable. The various Functions and even specific challenges one can unlock beg to be experimented with, and the Process as enemies provide enough variety to help you push the combat system to its limits.

So, this is Transistor. I don't think I like it quite as much as Bastion, but my respect and appreciation for it know no boundaries. It's a vivid yet solemn journey, accompanied by phenomenal visuals and music. Like the people in the story it tells, its ambition can sometimes get the best of it, but Transistor still stands as an engrossing achievement for a studio that keeps solidifying itself as one of the greatest.

Wanted to review this for a while but some of my drafts just felt off so I'mma do a mini-review that sums up my feelings about it.

This game is great. Fantastic, even. It's so addictive and colorful and inventive that you can spend hours upon hours chipping at everything it has to offer and still ask for more. HAL Laboratory has over forty years of game development history under their belt, and Kirby: The Forgotten Land reigns as one of their best games ever, very very easily.

It looks pretty and full of expressions and little details. It's packed with fun mechanics to experiment or toy with, even if controls are not always up to par. And even its boss fights are incredible, unexpectedly intense and spectacular to see how they unfold.

When the Switch will be looked back, I hope Kirby's most prominent 3D adventure yet would be seen as one of the console's crowning jewels.

With all those post-apocalyptic, fantasy sink or generic sci-fi open world 'RPGs', I'm beginning to miss the era of when open world games equaled 'GTA clones', with dense streets and urban landscapes that are full of people and cars going by their usual day-to-day schedule, or at least giving the illusion of it. But it's a bygone era now, with inflated game budgets and the overwhelming shadows of Rockstar's flagship franchise eclipsing any developer foolish enough to try.

But enough of that. Let's talk about one of the more unique entries of the urban open world sub-genre, Sleeping Dogs. I decided to revisit it on a whim, and while it has certainly aged, it still has some edge left. And a lot of punches.

Sleeping Dogs' most notable aspect is its setting. A fictionalized version of Hong Kong makes it feel remarkably different to most of its brethren that prefer American soil as their stage. I cannot vouch for its authenticity or accuracy, but United Front Games (rip) crafted a deeply atmospheric and immersive map that is sometimes just a joy to walk or drive through, and serves as the perfect backdrop for the game's crime thriller narrative.

The story is alright. It's not particularly deep or complex, and is mostly a video game tribute to Hong Kong cinema and various crime thriller tropes. But despite its relative simplicity, there is some charm to it, like Rockstar's early GTA games that placed more emphasis on quirky characters and blood-pumping action over the darker drama and conflicts of GTA4 and 5. And Wei is a solid protagonist overall, and likable enough.

Aside from Hong Kong, the other notable aspect of Sleeping Dogs is its combat system. While there are guns to be held and gunfights to be shot, this game primarily focuses on brutal melee combos. It's a rough system around the edges and the lock-on system can be frustrating sometimes, but it's also viciously satisfying as Wei begins to unlock new combos or abilities. Expertly-placed angles, vivid animations and excellent sound design help sell the tenacity of Wei's moves, alongside the ability to use the surroundings for some truly brutal finishers.

The gunfights that Sleeping Dogs occasionally throws in are far from the best third-person shooters have to often, but they're flashy enough to work, alongside the fun ability to slide over covers to initiate bullet-time moments in style. As for other core mechanics, driving is there. It's functional and I appreciate that I can even ram other cars out my way or use it to take down pursuers, but the camera can be very mean-spirited when it feels like it.

As a classic open world, Sleeping Dogs has both a core mission storyline and a plethora of side activities and stories to pursue. Imagine my surprise when I noticed how most of them still hold up rather well. There are missions to help the various civilians of HK; street races with few rules; dojo training for new moves; police tasks and even some multi-part cases to complete; and some other side quests like one where you work with a crazy car engineer on a Batmobile.

And the main missions are usually not slouch either. Some particular highlights involve a tragic ceremony that devolves into a grueling shootout; an infiltration to mess up with some triad boss; enthralling chases; and a heartwrenching vendetta rampage.

I probably could add more things, but I think you get the jest of most things. Sleeping Dogs is not the most original title out there, but it's finely-crafted and is tons of fun to play. Perhaps a sequel could have ironed out its faults and modernize some of its narrative ambitions, but alas, it was not meant to be. Rest well, United Front; you guys made a great sandbox action.

Against all odds, Eidos-Montreal's superhero space opera is pretty damn solid and even plenty charming. The second and final of the ill-fated Square Enix-Marvel partnership (that even saw Eidos getting sold a few months), Guardians may not be a masterpiece, but the final result is considerably better than anyone could have expected for.

The selling point of Guardians is its writing. It's mostly great, one of the better-written superhero games out there, with wit and heart peppered almost everywhere. The core five Guardians are all fun and unsurprisingly nuanced in their characterization, from backstory insecurities that cause fracture in the team, to shared commonality that allows them to reconcile and make amends. While initial impression may paint almost (hi Drax) all five of them as carbon copies of their MCU counterparts, by the end of Guardians' 12-hour campaign, they come to their own and develop a bond that feels just as earned and genuine.

The effort poured into the script doesn't stop with the Guardians themselves, and there are plenty of other characters with whom they interact that are just as affable and memorable, including the ditzy Mantis, the vengeful Lady Hellbender, best boi Cosmo and the distant Adam Warlock. A particular standout is Nikki, a young Kree girl with a rather large role in the story and various interesting moments with Star-Lord that help explore both characters thoroughly.

This also continues toward the world-building, in which Eidos combines its narrative might with Marvel's rich mythology to depict an utterly stellar and lifelike galactic scene, filled with its own cultures, geographies and legends.

However, not everything always lands. The dialogue can be overbearing at times, and not always synced well to the progress through the campaign. And some jokes - per usual for Marvel - can outlast their welcome. Of particular note, the game's villains are largely unremarkable and are only an excuse for the Guardians to push forward.

But overall, as a slice of superhero narrative, Guardians largely nails its ambitions, tone and personality. As a game, however, things are not always quite on par.

Guardians is not a bad game, mind you. But it wears its inspirations proudly and never truly break into its own. It's a shame, because there always seems to be a desire to be more than a standard cinematic third-person shooter with RPG elements.

It has some cool ideas to shake up its formula, though. While only Star-Lord is fully playable, you have access to up-to-four commands for each of other Guardians, leaning into that particular Guardian's field of expertise like Rocket's destructive arsenal or Gamora's fast-paced assassination techniques. There is also a quite fascinating attempt to mix this with an almost character action-like combo meter, and you can sometimes perform some combos and takedowns with your teammates. It's a bit rough around the edges, thankfully it works most of the time.

In particularly tough battles, you can also rile up your team which also triggers a banger soundtrack for the remaining of the fight. Like other elements, it's not entirely realized, but it's a nice touch.

Aside from a generic leveling system and pseudo-skill tree, Guardians' most prominent RPG element is a light dose of dialogue choices. While some may have a bit of an effect over the story, for the most part it comes off more as a superficial attempt to deepen the experience, and a nod to E-M's Deus Ex games.

There isn't much else to say about the combat and game design. It's a pretty standard and straightforward action shooter most of the time, with enemies that sometime have a weakness for Star-Lord's elemental shots - because of course; they also come in legions and are mostly forgettable. Boss fights exist, but they're nothing to write home about aside from some nice spectacle. I also have to highlight how many sliding moments this game has I have no idea if this is due to Eidos' experience on Tomb Raider or something, but cutting a few of them wouldn't have hurt.

Oh, and there are a couple of space dogfights. Those are cool for the most part.

So the action isn't all that interesting, but at least it looks great. I'm gonna miss the Foundation/Dawn Engine (that also powered up Deus Ex: Mankind Divided), but Guardians provides it one final, well-deserved hurrah. The various alien landscapes all look sublime and pop up with their vibrant colorations and exotic flora. Special effects and animations also look great and facial expressions are especially noteworthy for how lifelike and detailed they are.

The only glaring aspect aside from technical issues is the Mass Effect-esque dialogue scenes, with their characteristic robotic movements. Those feel almost at odds with the rest of the game's presentation and cinematics.

And of course, this being a Guardians-related work, the licensed soundtrack is terrific. There will even be a different song playing every time you boot up the game.

Finally, I almost forgot to mention the vocal performances. They're great, and carry the game even in scenes where the dialogue falters. Special mention for Alex Weiner (Rocket) and Jason Cavalier (Drax) who slay in their roles, and Romane Denis as Nikki, who undoubtedly owns the game's strongest scene.

Ultimately, Guardians of the Galaxy is a solid game with an entertaining story that is not nearly as cynical as it could have been. It's brought down by its lackluster combat and design foundations, unfortunately, which limit its full potential and never truly show Eidos-Montreal's prowess in player-driven action and exploration. And yet, it still stands tall as an admirable effort with a huge heart, warts and all. Marvel and superhero fans would feel at home.

Stray is a stunner, with production values emulating those of bigger blockbusters despite being the product of a tiny indie team. Its graphical fidelity can remind one of 2021's Kena: Bridge of Spirits, which also boasted impressive visuals despite its small scope. There is an incredible attention to detail in almost every environment, and character animations are surprisingly nuanced and lifelike in their depiction - especially the ones belonging to the feline protagonist.

This also stretches to the art direction. Deprecated buildings suffocate dirty streets with trash and debris further shrinking open spaces. Most of the light comes from artificial sources that only further emphasize the decaying and confused nature of the setting. This is contrasted with green scenery popping its head inside concrete cracks and on sparsely fertile soil, all while sunrays sometimes manage to get through the ceiling. Stray illustrates its walled city and cyberpunk atmosphere brilliantly, and despite its limited setting BlueTwelve managed to include a solid amount of variety through some of Stray's sets.

As a visual showpiece and exercise in atmosphere, Stray excels, and its aesthetics are definitely its biggest selling. As a game, it's fine.

It's a fairly simplistic experience overall. It's a pseudo-platformer with some open-ended exploration here and there, some chase/action sequences, several puzzles and even some stealth scenarios thrown in. You can also meow and sleep and scratch doors or carpets - and some more cat activities for fun.

There are some nice opportunities for leaps and jumps, but they are mostly a way to flex the incredible cat animations made for the game. And some of the puzzles can be mildly entertaining; they're nothing to write home about, but do their job.

Admittedly, I'm rather disappointed with the inclusion of action elements, because they feel like just another way to cover for the generally shallow gameplay. You mostly evade your enemies, with one occasion where you can fight back, but it can grow frustrating when getting torn from the otherwise laid back nature of Stray because the developers are not confident enough to let the exploration and world-building speak for themselves.

I do think the exploration is pretty well-done. Stray doesn't make the mistake of being a fully open-world game, instead providing some urban locations which your cat character can explore to their heart's content until the need to progress through the story calls. There are some collectibles to obtain, but they tie well into the world in a way that enriches them and provides more insight into its current state.

And it IS nice to just wander around, interacting with the various robotic inhabitants of the city, acting like a mischievous cat and letting the place sink in. There are a couple more distractions, but overall it's a compact package.

This is helped by an incredible soundtrack courtesy of Yann van der Cruyssen, which I can only describe as 'versatile'. Stray seamlessly transitions between melodies that invoke melancholy, relief, hostility and hope, all working in harmony to bring voice to its equally-varied vistas.

The story is... fine. There's some great environmental storytelling to be found in its walls, and I confess to growing attached to both the cat and its main robotic companion, but the general plot is just fine as a whole. It executes its themes competently and has a heartfelt message by the end of the adventure, but for the most part, the journey is somewhat forgettable.

By the end of Stray, I am left with mixed feelings. It's a technical achievement and an artistic triumph for such a new and tiny developer, armed to the teeth with lifelike movements and an incredible soundtrack. All to create a heartbreaking yet mesmerizing scenario of a potential dark future.

And yet at the same time, it's undoubtedly mechanically shallow and straightforward in a way that makes it feel behind some of its indie brethren. Not every game should be immeasurably rich and complex with its gameplay, but great graphics are simply not enough for Stray to cover up its simplicity, and I don't think its narrative manages to do the heavy lifting either.

But in the end, I am hopeful that Stray will pivot towards greater experiences from Blue Twelve. In spite of my criticisms, this is still an impressive game debut, and my personal, detailed issues with the game should be taken as my affection and admiration towards the overall package. It's also comfortably a short game, so it's not like you'll regret giving it a try. It's also a mandatory experience for cat lovers, and only weirdos don't like cats.

When in Rome... It's probably better not to do what Ezio does, you might get yourself hurt or killed or desynchronized.

This is pretty much a follow-up to my AC2 review, which is rather appropriate given Brotherhood's semi-sequel, semi-epilogue vibe as it continues and ultimately concludes the Assassin-Borgia war for Italian influence.

And it's important to highlight its nature as a game acting as both a sequel and an epilogue, because while Brotherhood is very much not just a glorified expansion pack re-proposed into a standalone offering, it's also more of a refinement than a complete overhaul.

In some ways, Brotherhood can be best described as a near-perfected Assassin's Creed II. Mechanically at least. The first thing you'll notice is how much smoother this game feels. Platforming and climbing are more responsive with less lag or hiccups in Ezio's movements, and combat fine-tunes the series' rhyme-based swordplay with combos and chain kills, as well as dual-wielding attacks.

You can also acquire a crossbow that can effortlessly mow down unsuspected or far away enemies, and Ezio also has more ways to break the defenses of hostile NPCs. While still stealth-oriented, ACBH gives plenty of tools and weapons to turn combat scenarios into swift massacres. For better or worse.

It's definitely an easier game, perhaps the easiest in the entire series. By the end of the game, Brotherhood can turn into a power fantasy through and through, so challenge seekers might find the traditional missions and battles underwhelming. And yet, it's also part of the fun.

Ezio is no longer a novice Assassin. He's the de facto leader now, and as such Brotherhood feels tailor-made to turn the player into a borderline-unstoppable force of nature rather than just a mere clandestine killer. This is particularly emphasized through the then-new ability to recruit citizens into the Assassins and use them as additional muscle.

In hindsight, this could also be among the first signs of the series' identity and core mechanics getting sidelined in favor of grander and more bombastic ideas. As fun as the Assassin recruits are, this also comes at the expense the allied factions introduced in AC2, despite their bigger individual roles and further quests.

It's even funnier given how a core aspect of the game revolves around renovating Rome, including the construction of new faction buildings. But it's a fun activity overall, creating the illusion of progress and adding to the feel of power ACB strives for. And unlike many later attempts, it also ties into the core premise of Ezio fighting against the Templars to liberate the city, and makes Brotherhood seem large and sprawling to make up for having just one map to fully explore.

And boy is this game big, especially for its time when open world games were more limited in quantities and didn't prolong their runtime through superficial RPG mechanics (tho those still exist in ACB). Rome is huge, a sprawling man-made monument of concrete and color, filled with highly-detailed and visually-complex structures and ladnmarks for Ezio to climb and explore, and it's surrounded by fields and ruins with their own secrets. It does get exhausting as you near the end (especially if, like me, you just replayed AC2 before replaying ACB), but to some degree ACB maintains a sense of novelty and elegance from a bygone era.

If half of the series' open world conventions were introduced in AC1 and 2, then the rest of them can be easily traced back to Brotherhood. High-profile target eliminations, district liberation, faction-specific side quests, more personalized assassination quests, city renovations and a bit more. Not to mention expanding on the collectibles and platform-challenging dungeons. If I haven't made it clear enough before, ACB can be seen as the point where the series began to openly stray away from its stealth-action roots and expand into vast, sometimes-daunting open worlds.

Though now that I've replayed it, I do think ACB is a tiny bit less "time capsule"-ish than AC2 was; some of its mechanical improvements and refinements elevate it beyond just being a history lesson. And speaking of history lessons...

In comparison to the conspiracies and mysteries that fueled the stories of AC1 and AC2, ACB is significantly more straightforward and linear in its storytelling and themes. It works well if you see this as more of an epilogue to AC2, where it finally wraps up Ezio's Brogia struggles and also invests some screentime in a small selection of AC2 supporting characters.

But as its own story... Well, ACB released at a time where Ubisoft really began its multimedia ambitions with spin-off content and time constraints, and as a result Ezio's war with Cesare can feel rather thin; even Cesare himself barely appears - despite being marketed so heavily. I do have to say the opening and ending segments of ACB are strong, beginning with an all-out assault on the Assassins and ending with the climatic showdown between Ezio and Cesare, but most of the stuff in-between is rather forgettable.

I do appreciate the attempts to deliver character arcs between Ezio and his fellow Assassins. They're nothing special and it's evident that Ubisoft didn't have enough time to fully flesh them out... But it's a nice attempt to give Machiavelli, d'Alviano, La Volpe and Ezio's sister Claudia more depth.

It's a shame the modern-day story kinda fell off a cliff by now, because Brotherhood did have some nice segments between Desmond and his team, especially his dynamic with Lucy in the intro of the game is genuinely entertaining to watch and experience.

Unrelated to the story, I forgot to mention it in my AC2 review, but ACB shares a similar problem so here we go: the economy system in those games is rather pointless in the end. You can become wealthy enough to start a Renaissance era Amazon before the game even reaches its halfway point, and while ACB does try to give more things to spend money on, it's just not enough to make money relevant beyond a certain point.

I may have forgotten more things to say, but despite some issues I've listed, I still really enjoyed my time with ACB again. At the time I've written it off as some quick cash grab from Ubisoft, and while its existence may be owed to Ubisoft's increasingly greedy practices in the early 2010s, it still stands as a lovingly-crafted accomplishment. And remarkably influential, too. Alongside its predecessor as well as Far Cry 3, AC Brotherhood left quite a mark.

For better or worse, of course, but as a balancing act between its origins and legacy, AC Brotherhood remains an impressive achievement, and rightfully maintains its seat within the upper echelon of the franchise, and Ubisoft's game catalogue as a whole.

P.S. Since I finally remembered: those full synchronization objectives are bullcrap. I get the intentions behind them, and it can add some flavor to challenge seekers, but a lot of times it just limits the freedom of the player.

It's been ages since I last played Assassin's Creed II. I think up to 2013 or 2014 I considered the series one of my favorites, but in a tale as old as time, I fell out of love with Ubisoft's premier historical sci-fi/fantasy/assassination gaming empire as quality was sidelined in favor of quantity and both the overarching narrative and historical dramas fell into ruin.

Now with all that said, I think AssCreed II still holds up in many places. Despite Ubisoft's best efforts, the cities of Florence and Venice are still gorgeous, highly detailed environments. One thing AC2 does really well is atmosphere, and every major location Ezio visits dominates the presentation with its unique color palette, striking art direction, cultural attributes and musical score.

Florence shines with its warm, elegant colors. Forli evokes the scars of a battle-worn community with its rough, muted aesthetics. Monteriggioni captures the feel of a humble, homely town. Venice is an alluring maze of rivers and vice brimming with a sense of carefreeness and lust. And even Rome in its brief appearance, gives you a taste of its overwhelming scope and grand importance before its relevance a game later.

Presentation, atmosphere and a sense of place are undoubtedly some of AC2's strongest assets. The remaster doesn't do it full justice, but the game's inherent beauty prevails for the most part. It also helps that for the most part, those locations are pretty fun to scale and explore, with various spots to climb or jump. Ezio's movements - while still clunky - are much improved from the prototypical free-running introduced in AC1, and he comes of as more graceful and agile. But yeah, it IS still somewhat clunky especially in comparison to later titles like AC3 and Unity; chasing sequences, races and timed challenges can very well test your patience when Ezio misses a jump or sticks to the wrong spot.

Combat is nothing too fancy, it relies more on the outlandish animations than on mechanical depth to entertain, and for the most part it does. Ezio's arsenal is bigger and more varied, and there are plenty of different weapons to try out. One of the coolest features to date is the ability to pick up weapons off slain enemies and use them for the duration of the fight; you can't keep them, but it's sometimes astonishing how every axe, mace and spear can have its own animations and alternate animations.

But as Ezio gets stronger, battles can get become more tedious than entertaining. There are several armor pieces and unique weapons to grab, and it can be relatively fast to acquire the best pieces of the game: Altair's slick-looking armor and sword. It's especially reflected in the few times the game tries to throw boss battles on you.

When it comes to assassinations, the game feels a bit more challenging, sometimes frustrating. There are multiple assassination scenarios in the main story, as well as side missions. As Ezio's toolset gets larger, the more fun it can get solving those little 'puzzles' of how to get to a target or set the stage for their demise. There are some assassination scenarios that can get irritating, though, some found in the originally-DLC segments.

I think the most fascinating aspect of this game, however, especially nowadays, is that you can see how Ubisoft's now-widely recognized open world formula began to take shape. Yes, you had AC1 and FC2 beforehand, but AC2's free-roaming is where the more standardized sandbox design felt more fully-defined.

Towering constructions to expose the map. Multiple side missions tackling various gameplay elements like stealth, assassination, melee and platforming. An extensive collectible hunt with hundreds of things like feathers, symbols and statues to hunt. Some special pseudo-dungeon locations to complete. Many can be an entertaining distraction, but they pale in comparison to the 'meat' presented by the main quest, and on their own, they can feel repetitive.

But in a sense, what this and its most direct sequel had over their multitude of successors and imitators, was contextualizing many of those activities as tie-ins for the story and setting as justified within the framing of the story. Assassination contracts occur as part of Ezio's alliance with the Medici; the feathers are Ezio's way to help with his mother's decades-long mourning period; the dungeon-like Assassin Tombs and Templar lairs hide the keys to Altair's legendary armor and some even elaborate on the backstory.

This doesn't necessarily excuse AC2 and ACBH's paddling, but a significant chunk of their offerings had a purpose, to its main character, to its locations, to its overarching plot. And I can respect that - later games certainly didn't.

The story is... an interesting subject. Even back when I first played AC2, I felt it was less mmmm, 'sophisticated' than AC1's plot of honor and redemption: the Templars here are blatantly evil and the story puts less emphasis on complex characterization. But I do think it still touches upon or explores a wide array of themes appropriate for the Renaissance setting. Lust, sin, greed, artistry, the place of the arts in life, political corruption, abuse of religion for power, social divides, grief and obsession all form a fairly entertaining and engaging, decades-long quest for revenge, using the Italian stages to full effect.

In this case, the more overly evil Templars make perfect sense: the once-proud order has succumbed to the trap of the era, its leaders promoting a highly distorted version of their ideology, plagued with quests for power and wealth. Though, this particular image continues to paint their role in the series since then, despite efforts from multiple titles like AC Revelations, AC3 and AC Unity to present a more even-ended conflict. Hard to do it when Templars are explicitly cited to purposely spread capitalism and pollution to control the masses, eh lads?

And the modern story I feel, is irrelevant. There are some nice twists and mysteries, but even then Ubisoft Montreal seemingly refused to give it enough time and space to meaningfully develop, and you can see the less-than-stellar results a few years later. The series would have been better if it just ditched it altogether, as its gimmick, while novel and even manages to properly justify multiple mechanics and features, only serves to further complicate an otherwise engaging historical drama.

So, that's Assassin's Creed II. It has certainly aged, both in its graphics and its design principles. But as a time capsule of blooming ideas and concepts, and as a window to one of history's most visually-vivid time periods, it's still very much worth to experience. Alongside its predecessor and sequel, it marks the golden age of Ubisoft's most lucrative franchise, when the skies were the limit and the entire experiment managed to be a pretty lovely balancing act of fiction and historicity, all without sacrificing emotion and playability.

Those days are gone now, but AC2 will forever stand as an achievement in video game art and architecture, and as an undeniable part of the open world family tree - for better and worse, mind you.

God of War Ragnarök stands as a rare triumph of the triple-A machine. It's epic in scope and narrative, yet supremely human. It's visually stunning, but also artistically unique. It's huge with so many vistas and actions to complete, yet almost none of it feels like filler. It's not the flawless masterpiece some imagined it to be, but it does so, so many things right that it's unbelievable how coherent and polished it remains until the end.

Let's make it clear though: if you didn't like Kratos' softly-rebooted return, or you don't care much for Sony's cinematic third-person adventures, then Ragnarök won't change your previously-established opinions. Perhaps this is indeed one of the game's biggest sins, to come out as it is after a barrage of its siblings already out, including 2020's controversial yet (in my opinion) brilliant The Last of Us Part II.

But this also ends up as one of Ragnarök's greatest strengths. Santa Monica Studio doesn't attempt to make this a ridiculously overhauled, reinvented entry again. But what we have here is a sequel that realized why so many of the things its predecessor has done worked so well, and continues to build upon them in spectacular and exciting ways.

Combat retains its intimate sense of brutality and ferociousness, keeping balance between its inviting basics and more frenetic actions. Both the Leviathan Axe and Blades of Chaos receive a few new toys in the form of new basic attacks, unlocks, upgrades and Runes to spice things up, and a greater emphasis on verticality allows Kratos to swing across the arenas to gain new momentum, deliver devastating aerial attacks or gain distance for preparation. Enemy variety - cited as one of God of War 2018's weaker points - has been given much attention by Santa Monica Studio, who introduces a variety of lethal new opponents and bosses to hinder your quest. The game even takes a lighthearted (and gory) jab at how the previous game overused its Trolls for boss encounters.

Beyond that, Ragnarök gradually introduces other ideas for its combat design, though due to the game's recent release it's probably better to keep those under wraps. But even beyond that, Ragnarök expands on many of its ideas, including larger usage of its NPC companion system, which continue to present a nice addition of tactical edge in some of the harder fights without outclassing the player. A revamped RPG system probably won't satisfy some of the more customization-heavy people, but Santa Monica Studio managed to streamline it into a somewhat more attractive package, providing generous upgrades to even your base equipment and a plethora of options to strengthen and augment Kratos.

There are some issues retained from the first (well technically forth) outing; the camera - god bless Cory Barlog - is usually quite fine in many of the fights, but some of the larger-scale or more aggressive boss fights expose how its close proximity to the player can be just as brutal as the fights themselves. In addition, for some reason kratos briefly slows down whenever he equips a weapon - in slower-paced games this wouldn't have been an issue, but for a fast-paced title like God of War, this is rather an odd oversight.

Speaking of issues retained from the previous game, the traversal across some of the Realms can end up feeling rather boring or meandering. In light of what the game does right, those are minor issues, but Santa Monica remains adamant on leaving some of those issues regardless.

As for what most of us came for, the story of God of War Ragnarök is... epic. It's aggressively huge, multi-layered, action-packed, emotional and... surprisingly funny at times. Game director Eric Williams and series reviver Cory Barlog admitted that they originally weren't sure whether the new saga would be a trilogy or the eventual duology, and it shows in some sections of the game. Ragnarök has so, so much to tell. So many story arcs and character arcs to explore and unravel, and indeed at times it stumbles because of the sheer scope and ambition of the narrative. Flawed, but beautifully, humanly flawed.

But damn, its achievements are sky-high when it lands. It's a wonder to watch as the man previously called Ghost of Sparta finally begins to reconnect with his lost humanity after God of War 2018 planted the seeds; Christopher Judge in his second outing as Kratos does an incredible job that gradually reveals the old God of War's emotions. And this is in part thanks to a fantastic work done by a supporting cast led by Sunny Suljic as his son Atreus, who has room to grow but proves to be the beating heart of the experience. A significant chunk of the supporting characters receives ample amounts of development and scenes to expand on their personalities and growth, interlinked with Kratos' similar doubts, fears and regrets. Freya, Mimir, Sindri and even the drunken, depressed Thor all prove to be complex, deeply tragic and believable people, going way beyond their mythological roots.

But special mention should go to our main antagonist, Odin. Richard Schiff's sleazily deceitful portrayal of the Norse All-father yields one of the most memorable and evil villains to come out from video games. God of War (and indeed, AAA games in general) is no stranger to awful pieces of shit acting as the final goals to punch out, but Odin is a being on another level. Delusional, abusive, intelligently ruthless and ambitious beyond words, Odin's evil goes beyond just a brutal tyrant's iron fist. It's genuinely, uncomfortably human, and that makes him truly terrifying.

The finale has caused a minor debate on its quality, but I've come to personally love it. It can feel rushed and unfulfilling at times, but it is also a fitting, brutal conclusion that spites other depictions of mythological endgames. And it ends with a powerful, unexpectedly emotional and heartwrenching ending that provides both a strong ending to the story that began all the way back in 2005... and a foundation for the series' inevitable return sometime down the line.

But the main quest is not all God of War Ragnarök has to offer. As it was in 2018, this game is a "wide linear" title with a pseudo-open world design. Most open worlds and even similarly-designed titles tend to fall flat when it comes to distractions outside the main goal, but Ragnarök's side quests and optional events could be actually mistaken for the story quests.

Only CD Projekt and Rockstar Games could have provided this amount of quality AND quantity with their side material, and Ragnarök delivers almost effortlessly. From quests revolving Kratos' companions to resolving the Nine Realms' remaining traumas, Ragnarök unleashes a wide selection of adventures that build upon the history of the setting, depict new sides of old characters and throw Kratos into some of the most vicious battles the series has ever had. If you miss the Valkyries and their relentless encounters, this game's Berserkers will make you regret this.

Even the collectibles are still given so much attention and depth, shedding light on events that transpired, giving hints on later quests, and even making nods towards other Sony-published games such as Horizon, Ghost and... of all things, PlayStation AllStars. It's a nice tribute to both of Santa Monica's history, and the studio's appreciation for its peers.

On a side note, it's rare to see a game that not only continues from its predecessor's story, but also includes references from said predecessor's own side activities. Needless to say, Ragnarök has expected you to have 100%'d the previous game, including some of its lore memorials and optional bosses.

There is a lot to talk about Ragnarök, so much stuff about it that I feel I've missed while writing this review. It's gigantic, and sometimes loses its focus in favor of chasing its ambitions, but it's rewarding nonetheless.

If I have a game that Ragnarök reminds me of, it might be Kojima's Metal Gear Solid 4. Like Guns of the Patriots, Ragnarök is a massive, landscape-spanning drama that goes through its slew of figures to reach a juggernaut ending about family, redemption, retirement and peace. As a result of holding all of its cards along the way, it can come off as messy, convoluted or inconsistent at times - losing the brisker pacing and simpler narrative of the previous games - but the end result is something truly special. It's an odyssey of a game, an extraordinary work that pushes its established structure to the absolute limits.

And with all that said and done, I cannot wait for Santa Monica Studio's next game.