Rezlo
BACKER
2021
The first point-and-click mobile game I’ve picked up, Paper Bride is a Chinese horror-puzzle title with five distinct acts. The main premise is that it’s your wedding day when suddenly things go awry. Your wife-to-be suddenly disappears and you are soon stalked by a woman in white identical to her, along with paper people that look lifelike. Your job is to figure out what’s going on by examining your bride’s mysterious family history and to save her from the malevolent powers afoot. First things first, for being a translation the game’s dialogue is respectably clear. There’s some spotty grammar here and there, yet on the whole it’s coherent in its narrative and never felt superfluous in its exposition. Which is thankful, as good luck finding a summary of the game online. The story was even a little sweet once you got the whole picture of the situation.
In terms of the ratio of intuitive to confounding, I’d say Paper Bride sits comfortably in the 3:1 ratio on that front. Most of the traditional puzzles like lock combinations and clock configurations were run-of-the-mill and quaint. The latter ratio figure mostly consisted of some semi-complex crafting tasks, some of which had some very specific orderings. Unsurprisingly and not unwelcomely, this free-to-play puzzle game has a token system to give hints or to outright skip sections. I never skipped sections but I did employ the hints system at least a handful of times. Granted you can always use the tried and true method of randomly clicking on the screen, but be careful because the game will occasionally ding you for pressing on a random spot every now and then. And if you do that more than 5 times you’ll need to purchase or earn more “energy”.
This is the only part of the game I would call downright predatory, as it pretty much forces you to watch an ad or purchase tokens to continue at some point. Whatever, I was fine with spending a dollar or two to make sure I wasn’t too inundated with ads. Still, I will say the random ad breaks during the later chapters of the game started to border on annoying, but If you can muster up a chunk of patience, Paper Brides is a reasonable choice of vice for a few hours, replete with some creepy ambient chimes to give you that nice oxymoronic feeling of cozy dread. Plus I can’t say I didn’t learn a thing or two about Taoism from its story.
In terms of the ratio of intuitive to confounding, I’d say Paper Bride sits comfortably in the 3:1 ratio on that front. Most of the traditional puzzles like lock combinations and clock configurations were run-of-the-mill and quaint. The latter ratio figure mostly consisted of some semi-complex crafting tasks, some of which had some very specific orderings. Unsurprisingly and not unwelcomely, this free-to-play puzzle game has a token system to give hints or to outright skip sections. I never skipped sections but I did employ the hints system at least a handful of times. Granted you can always use the tried and true method of randomly clicking on the screen, but be careful because the game will occasionally ding you for pressing on a random spot every now and then. And if you do that more than 5 times you’ll need to purchase or earn more “energy”.
This is the only part of the game I would call downright predatory, as it pretty much forces you to watch an ad or purchase tokens to continue at some point. Whatever, I was fine with spending a dollar or two to make sure I wasn’t too inundated with ads. Still, I will say the random ad breaks during the later chapters of the game started to border on annoying, but If you can muster up a chunk of patience, Paper Brides is a reasonable choice of vice for a few hours, replete with some creepy ambient chimes to give you that nice oxymoronic feeling of cozy dread. Plus I can’t say I didn’t learn a thing or two about Taoism from its story.
2006
I’m gonna offer a bit of a different opinion on the franchise’s 2006 start. Having played this game many years after its initial release, I can plainly see some cracks in the facade that I think make it age worse than it could have. First let me preface, for the time this game was a milestone of gaming no doubt. The graphics and advanced cover system were the most fleshed out than previously seen in older games. My problems with the game are more apparent after the passage of time, when innovative graphics can no longer make up for other issues. Gears of War, as it exists today, is a fundamentally derivative game that offers some mild amusement from its gratuitous blood and bullets gameplay.
To begin, the story blows chunks. You don’t have to be an elitist to not care for the overplayed macho, grittycore aesthetic that permeates this game like year old milk. If anything that alone is perhaps the biggest marker of age for this game. It’s every apocalyptic military story ever told, just done infinitely more boring with characters I cringed at everytime they talked. There does exist a sweet spot between embarrassingly bad and charmingly stupid, it’s just this game gets nowhere near it. And it’s not to say I have a vendetta against the era of stupid action shooters of the mid and late 2000s. I used to terminally binge the Army of Two games on the PS3, and believe me when I say those were not getting any writing achievements.
I couldn’t find an ounce of humor, intrigue, or heart anywhere near Fenix and pals. All that matters is that you’re generic badass number 49028, you have a voice to rival pounded gravel, and are tasked with saving the world from aliens by planting bombs in a bunch of random places. All the while you have to babysit some goofball squad members freshly picked up from your local MW2 Lan party. Actually that makes it sound more fun than it is. It’s more like a squad of robots who were made to act like what they thought frat boys acted like. And babysit is the right word, because no matter the difficulty your squad mates insist on sharing a single brain, and will go down quicker than you can roll your eyes in annoyance. It’s like I’m back playing COD zombies with my younger cousin with how often I have to go pick them up.
Now despite my exaggerated frustration this is not an indictment on the game as a whole. I’ve dealt with more than my fair share of stinker stories. If I tune out the dialogue it’s really not so offensively bad. It’s digestible and provides the barebones pretext for why you’re blowing up everything in sight. What really matters here is the gameplay, everything else is more cosmetic than anything in a game like this. And I’m….. lukewarm on the combat.
The cover system is a lot like the general movement of the game. It has a very heavy weight to it. And it is most certainly not up for debate as to whether you’ll use it a lot. If you don’t liberally use cover you will go down startlingly quick, even on the easiest difficulty. Add on that every enemy is a bullet sponge and you’ll be spending most of your time playing whack-a-mole with the enemies as you go from cover to cover. As bad as that sounds It only really becomes a slog when you die and have to do a section all over again. Still, for such an emphasized mechanic I wish they touched up the cover system a little more before calling it a day. For one thing a way to go around a corner in cover without leaving it would have been welcome.
Oddly enough, the very idea of such a heavily emphasized cover system goes a bit against the design philosophy of the rest of the game if you ask me. We’re these roided badasses and we have to constantly hide and take potshots? Screw that, give me some dynamite and a minigun and let me go ham. But hey, It’s a novel gimmick and the deepest use of it I’ve seen so far, so I won’t complain too much. Heck, I even started to kind of dig the cover system when I wasn’t being shot at from thirty different directions. It just takes a bit to get used to the heft of your character. The bosses are okay, but I hated the vehicle sections. Unneeded and unpolished vehicle sections are something that ought to be left in the past. I mean who creates a vehicle that can only power driving OR the light turret? Bad engineers, that's who.
To recap, Gears of War’s story, world, and characters were enormously lame while its gameplay and cover system grew on me ever so slightly. Sure, I still wish the cover wasn’t so pivotal or momentum breaking at times, but I can be more forgiving for the first entry in the franchise. For 2006 this is a great looking action title that no doubt influenced a great deal of games in its wake. While I find it hard to believe anyone can utterly adore this game and not be drowning in nostalgia, I’ll give respect where it’s earned.
To begin, the story blows chunks. You don’t have to be an elitist to not care for the overplayed macho, grittycore aesthetic that permeates this game like year old milk. If anything that alone is perhaps the biggest marker of age for this game. It’s every apocalyptic military story ever told, just done infinitely more boring with characters I cringed at everytime they talked. There does exist a sweet spot between embarrassingly bad and charmingly stupid, it’s just this game gets nowhere near it. And it’s not to say I have a vendetta against the era of stupid action shooters of the mid and late 2000s. I used to terminally binge the Army of Two games on the PS3, and believe me when I say those were not getting any writing achievements.
I couldn’t find an ounce of humor, intrigue, or heart anywhere near Fenix and pals. All that matters is that you’re generic badass number 49028, you have a voice to rival pounded gravel, and are tasked with saving the world from aliens by planting bombs in a bunch of random places. All the while you have to babysit some goofball squad members freshly picked up from your local MW2 Lan party. Actually that makes it sound more fun than it is. It’s more like a squad of robots who were made to act like what they thought frat boys acted like. And babysit is the right word, because no matter the difficulty your squad mates insist on sharing a single brain, and will go down quicker than you can roll your eyes in annoyance. It’s like I’m back playing COD zombies with my younger cousin with how often I have to go pick them up.
Now despite my exaggerated frustration this is not an indictment on the game as a whole. I’ve dealt with more than my fair share of stinker stories. If I tune out the dialogue it’s really not so offensively bad. It’s digestible and provides the barebones pretext for why you’re blowing up everything in sight. What really matters here is the gameplay, everything else is more cosmetic than anything in a game like this. And I’m….. lukewarm on the combat.
The cover system is a lot like the general movement of the game. It has a very heavy weight to it. And it is most certainly not up for debate as to whether you’ll use it a lot. If you don’t liberally use cover you will go down startlingly quick, even on the easiest difficulty. Add on that every enemy is a bullet sponge and you’ll be spending most of your time playing whack-a-mole with the enemies as you go from cover to cover. As bad as that sounds It only really becomes a slog when you die and have to do a section all over again. Still, for such an emphasized mechanic I wish they touched up the cover system a little more before calling it a day. For one thing a way to go around a corner in cover without leaving it would have been welcome.
Oddly enough, the very idea of such a heavily emphasized cover system goes a bit against the design philosophy of the rest of the game if you ask me. We’re these roided badasses and we have to constantly hide and take potshots? Screw that, give me some dynamite and a minigun and let me go ham. But hey, It’s a novel gimmick and the deepest use of it I’ve seen so far, so I won’t complain too much. Heck, I even started to kind of dig the cover system when I wasn’t being shot at from thirty different directions. It just takes a bit to get used to the heft of your character. The bosses are okay, but I hated the vehicle sections. Unneeded and unpolished vehicle sections are something that ought to be left in the past. I mean who creates a vehicle that can only power driving OR the light turret? Bad engineers, that's who.
To recap, Gears of War’s story, world, and characters were enormously lame while its gameplay and cover system grew on me ever so slightly. Sure, I still wish the cover wasn’t so pivotal or momentum breaking at times, but I can be more forgiving for the first entry in the franchise. For 2006 this is a great looking action title that no doubt influenced a great deal of games in its wake. While I find it hard to believe anyone can utterly adore this game and not be drowning in nostalgia, I’ll give respect where it’s earned.
Let's start with the negatives, because there’s a refreshingly small amount in Fallen Order. Besides a single element of the story I felt was rushed, there’s only one major drawback to speak of: the technical issues. Even after playing years after the release and with a brand new RTX 4070 the game had some pretty major frame rate and render hiccups. Kasshykk especially was downright horrendous at times in areas of high detail foliage or large amounts of enemies. It never broke or crashed the game but it definitely took the winds out of my sails at times, with it undercutting tense scenes or would-be epic battles. Luckily It got better in the later portions and planets but was never fully gone. Which is a shame, because ignoring that the game is gorgeous, responsive, and has the best lightsaber combat I’ve experienced thus far.
On that topic, let’s talk more about the combat. I can definitely see some Dark Souls influences all over it, with some added force powers as a bonus. However, parrying in Fallen Order is far better than dodging when you can help it. And I know they expand on the moveset in the second game, yet even just with what’s here I’m as giddy as I was back when I used to swing a broom around the backyard pretending I was a Jedi. Of course by back then I mean yesterday, but nevermind that. Being able to force push into a lightsaber throw into force pull into a double-bladed wombo combo was peak badassery. With every game that offers multiple movesets I always try to incorporate a decent variety. Both to play the game as intended and to experience all that it offers. Some games are better designed for varied combat, and others you learn very quickly to only rely on the fundamentals. With Fallen Order it fell thankfully and completely into the first camp. It never discouraged trying out new methods, and I loved testing the limits with each new encounter. And that’s with playing on Jedi Master difficulty, which is no cake-walk by any means.
Still, I enjoy a good challenge, and mastering Sifu was more than adequate as a prerequisite to feel confident in that choice. Just like Sifu, parry timing is key in this game, and I am grateful to have long ago honed that. And honestly, after finishing Fallen Order I actually think Jedi Master should be the default difficulty for everyone but the greenest gamers. The hit speed and damage felt like it perfectly struck that sweet spot of requiring you to slightly improve your timing with every new enemy and making hits something to avoid rather than shrug off. The health system was not quite what I expected, even so I dig it. Like many parts of the game it’s very RPG-like. I was really hoping for an ability to regain some health on special takedowns, but the replenishable stims and respawning enemies system worked just fine on their own. For one it makes grinding a breeze if that suits your playstyle, though this game doesn’t really ask that of you, and I did just fine getting nearly every ability by the end without doing that. It’s also good practice if you feel less confident facing certain enemies and need to run a fight back.
Besides the timing quirks the only other element to get down is when to use the double-blade and when to lock on. The game helps you with the former dilemma by straight up telling you how to use it, though I would caveat that the double sided blade can also be good for single enemies when they have a fast recovery or hit speed. For the latter question, generally it’s best to lock on when all enemies can be seen on screen at once, or when there’s only one or two enemies to worry about. As a last note about the combat, I’ve heard a lot of disappointment that the game doesn’t offer more violence, as in no dismemberment, decapitations, or bisections. While it is a limiting factor and perhaps not the most realistic, I’m kind of indifferent to the idea. I wouldn’t protest some scarce limb and head removals, but I WOULD be outright against bisections in anything that’s not a dark-side focused title. Nevertheless, I’m perfectly content with just the scorch marks we were given to denote damage.
The story and its planet-hopping consequences were a great chance to see more of the galaxy in game form. Seeing Order 66, Dathomir, and Kashyyyk gave me a painful desire to see team Respawn do a hundred more planets and situations in their unique to Star Wars Metroidvania style. I also liked just about everyone, even if they fit a little snugly into their archetypal boxes. They all had succinct arcs, and even gave me some warm fuzzies by the end when they all became closer. Hey, I’ll admit I’m a hopeless sucker for found family dynamics when I care about the characters. My only complaint in that department is that Merrin joining the Mantis crew was way too rushed. Going from trying to kill you to becoming an eager flight companion was welcome if comically jarring. But whatever, I just need her and Cal to make some sweet Jedi Witch babies, stat.
Straddling the line that Fallen Order had to is far from enviable. It had to cover a well-documented and relatively common period of the galaxy while still adding new enemies, challenges, and important missions so as to make it distinct in its significance. At the same time it had to be self-contained enough so as not to step on the toes of the Original Trilogy. Despite those unique obstacles, I think the game nails the landing and offers a good excuse as to why Cal wasn’t leading the charge for the Rebel Alliance. He’s a strong fighter, but as can be seen with his encounter with Vader, he’s nowhere near ready to shoulder the responsibilities for the fate of the galaxy at this point, emotionally or physically. What a great subverted sequence that Vader one was by the way. I’m still not 100% sold on the idea of Inquisitors as a whole, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say they have drip for days and a presence that elevates the boss fights to a level near epic. If you have even a passing interest in Star Wars I would implore you to pick up this game when it goes on sale for dirt cheap, as it often does.
On that topic, let’s talk more about the combat. I can definitely see some Dark Souls influences all over it, with some added force powers as a bonus. However, parrying in Fallen Order is far better than dodging when you can help it. And I know they expand on the moveset in the second game, yet even just with what’s here I’m as giddy as I was back when I used to swing a broom around the backyard pretending I was a Jedi. Of course by back then I mean yesterday, but nevermind that. Being able to force push into a lightsaber throw into force pull into a double-bladed wombo combo was peak badassery. With every game that offers multiple movesets I always try to incorporate a decent variety. Both to play the game as intended and to experience all that it offers. Some games are better designed for varied combat, and others you learn very quickly to only rely on the fundamentals. With Fallen Order it fell thankfully and completely into the first camp. It never discouraged trying out new methods, and I loved testing the limits with each new encounter. And that’s with playing on Jedi Master difficulty, which is no cake-walk by any means.
Still, I enjoy a good challenge, and mastering Sifu was more than adequate as a prerequisite to feel confident in that choice. Just like Sifu, parry timing is key in this game, and I am grateful to have long ago honed that. And honestly, after finishing Fallen Order I actually think Jedi Master should be the default difficulty for everyone but the greenest gamers. The hit speed and damage felt like it perfectly struck that sweet spot of requiring you to slightly improve your timing with every new enemy and making hits something to avoid rather than shrug off. The health system was not quite what I expected, even so I dig it. Like many parts of the game it’s very RPG-like. I was really hoping for an ability to regain some health on special takedowns, but the replenishable stims and respawning enemies system worked just fine on their own. For one it makes grinding a breeze if that suits your playstyle, though this game doesn’t really ask that of you, and I did just fine getting nearly every ability by the end without doing that. It’s also good practice if you feel less confident facing certain enemies and need to run a fight back.
Besides the timing quirks the only other element to get down is when to use the double-blade and when to lock on. The game helps you with the former dilemma by straight up telling you how to use it, though I would caveat that the double sided blade can also be good for single enemies when they have a fast recovery or hit speed. For the latter question, generally it’s best to lock on when all enemies can be seen on screen at once, or when there’s only one or two enemies to worry about. As a last note about the combat, I’ve heard a lot of disappointment that the game doesn’t offer more violence, as in no dismemberment, decapitations, or bisections. While it is a limiting factor and perhaps not the most realistic, I’m kind of indifferent to the idea. I wouldn’t protest some scarce limb and head removals, but I WOULD be outright against bisections in anything that’s not a dark-side focused title. Nevertheless, I’m perfectly content with just the scorch marks we were given to denote damage.
The story and its planet-hopping consequences were a great chance to see more of the galaxy in game form. Seeing Order 66, Dathomir, and Kashyyyk gave me a painful desire to see team Respawn do a hundred more planets and situations in their unique to Star Wars Metroidvania style. I also liked just about everyone, even if they fit a little snugly into their archetypal boxes. They all had succinct arcs, and even gave me some warm fuzzies by the end when they all became closer. Hey, I’ll admit I’m a hopeless sucker for found family dynamics when I care about the characters. My only complaint in that department is that Merrin joining the Mantis crew was way too rushed. Going from trying to kill you to becoming an eager flight companion was welcome if comically jarring. But whatever, I just need her and Cal to make some sweet Jedi Witch babies, stat.
Straddling the line that Fallen Order had to is far from enviable. It had to cover a well-documented and relatively common period of the galaxy while still adding new enemies, challenges, and important missions so as to make it distinct in its significance. At the same time it had to be self-contained enough so as not to step on the toes of the Original Trilogy. Despite those unique obstacles, I think the game nails the landing and offers a good excuse as to why Cal wasn’t leading the charge for the Rebel Alliance. He’s a strong fighter, but as can be seen with his encounter with Vader, he’s nowhere near ready to shoulder the responsibilities for the fate of the galaxy at this point, emotionally or physically. What a great subverted sequence that Vader one was by the way. I’m still not 100% sold on the idea of Inquisitors as a whole, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say they have drip for days and a presence that elevates the boss fights to a level near epic. If you have even a passing interest in Star Wars I would implore you to pick up this game when it goes on sale for dirt cheap, as it often does.
2009
While not without its negatives, I can see why Infamous is as… famous as it is. There’s some classic PS3-isms that’ll remind you of the era you’re in, but it comes off more charming than grating to me. Most of the time that is. On that same train of thought, let’s get the infamous out of the way before we talk about why it’s famous.
Infamous is one of the many games of its generation to try its hand at the karma system, and it’s not the greatest. To its credit but primarily its detriment, it’s very on the nose with its choices. The total lack of nuance makes it very obvious the moral path that you’re going down, yet it also prevents any hard-choices or depth of choice. When your options are as starkly different as kill hungry civilians or save a hospital, it becomes much too easy to make a choice. And even with how satisfying the combat system is, I can’t see an argument to play the game through twice. There’s really one unique ability per alignment, and it’s no game changer either way. I think an alignment system can be great but the entire infrastructure has to be built around it intelligently, which is not the case here. Granted this is really a half-gripe, because I don’t think it takes away that much from the main game, except in the sense that the resources put towards it could have been put elsewhere. Still worth noting though.
My other gripe is with the characters. Growing up and watching my older brother play this game, I never really picked up on how naggy, backstabby, or just downright annoying almost everyone is here. After actually playing completely through Cole was pretty much the only person I wasn’t pissed at by the end. But hey, I know Zeke is much more likable in the sequel so at least I have that to look forward to. My last and most major issue I have is with the NPC generation, both the civilians and enemies. There are way too many at any given moment, in the immersive and gameplay sense. A healthy mix of NPCs are necessary for a world to feel lived in, it’s just literally every corner in Infamous is filled to the brim with people, to the point where civilian death is nearly a guarantee with how stupidly they run right in front of you while trying to zap some bad guys. And I’m sorry but there are SO many bad guys just strewn throughout the quarantined hellhole that is Empire City, that after a while I just ignored them to travel to my next mission. Some regulation of NPC count would have made the world not feel so cluttered.
In terms of pure gameplay, infamous is very refined for its first outing. A diverse array of offensive options, traversal enhancers, and even a permanent electro-shield all made for a veritable playground at any firefight. The ultimate ability and nade-spamming one being my personal favorites to unleash on some poor unsuspecting fool. Kudos also to the electrical line and train-tracks traversal, each were very smart and rewarding methods of travel. Same goes for the parkour, which felt very Assassin’s Creed-y, if made infinitely more relaxed. If any building exists in Infamous, as long as it has even the smallest lip jutting out, you can climb it, and I respect that greatly.
Not just suited for function, the aesthetics, power-wise and cityscape wise, were tip-top here as well. Using nearby generators, cars, and antennas to siphon energy for grenade blasts and hands-zaps emphasized how utterly badass playing as a superhero in a superheroless world could be. Along with using sewer substations to make yourself a literal conduit the game was A+ at making you feel awesome. I won’t get into the story here, I’ll just say it does have a pretty major twist unveiled at the end. I’m not sure it was necessary, and many people despise the supposed bait-and-switch they pulled, but I was honestly fairly lukewarm on it. Definitely the most interesting part of the narrative, so I suppose I’m cool with it. It certainly sets up the next game to be truly epic. On a last note about the story, I absolutely love the comic art cinematics they used to cap off mission completions. It was probably for budget purposes, however the art was positively striking, and I can see why they made a comic series in the same style after the fact.
All that to say, Infamous is a fun time. As long as you’re keeping a brisk pace and you can be patient with the video-game equivalent of your slightly older, ever-so-slightly backwards cousin, you’ll have a good time here. And you should, because I think Infamous holds up well despite its flaws.
Infamous is one of the many games of its generation to try its hand at the karma system, and it’s not the greatest. To its credit but primarily its detriment, it’s very on the nose with its choices. The total lack of nuance makes it very obvious the moral path that you’re going down, yet it also prevents any hard-choices or depth of choice. When your options are as starkly different as kill hungry civilians or save a hospital, it becomes much too easy to make a choice. And even with how satisfying the combat system is, I can’t see an argument to play the game through twice. There’s really one unique ability per alignment, and it’s no game changer either way. I think an alignment system can be great but the entire infrastructure has to be built around it intelligently, which is not the case here. Granted this is really a half-gripe, because I don’t think it takes away that much from the main game, except in the sense that the resources put towards it could have been put elsewhere. Still worth noting though.
My other gripe is with the characters. Growing up and watching my older brother play this game, I never really picked up on how naggy, backstabby, or just downright annoying almost everyone is here. After actually playing completely through Cole was pretty much the only person I wasn’t pissed at by the end. But hey, I know Zeke is much more likable in the sequel so at least I have that to look forward to. My last and most major issue I have is with the NPC generation, both the civilians and enemies. There are way too many at any given moment, in the immersive and gameplay sense. A healthy mix of NPCs are necessary for a world to feel lived in, it’s just literally every corner in Infamous is filled to the brim with people, to the point where civilian death is nearly a guarantee with how stupidly they run right in front of you while trying to zap some bad guys. And I’m sorry but there are SO many bad guys just strewn throughout the quarantined hellhole that is Empire City, that after a while I just ignored them to travel to my next mission. Some regulation of NPC count would have made the world not feel so cluttered.
In terms of pure gameplay, infamous is very refined for its first outing. A diverse array of offensive options, traversal enhancers, and even a permanent electro-shield all made for a veritable playground at any firefight. The ultimate ability and nade-spamming one being my personal favorites to unleash on some poor unsuspecting fool. Kudos also to the electrical line and train-tracks traversal, each were very smart and rewarding methods of travel. Same goes for the parkour, which felt very Assassin’s Creed-y, if made infinitely more relaxed. If any building exists in Infamous, as long as it has even the smallest lip jutting out, you can climb it, and I respect that greatly.
Not just suited for function, the aesthetics, power-wise and cityscape wise, were tip-top here as well. Using nearby generators, cars, and antennas to siphon energy for grenade blasts and hands-zaps emphasized how utterly badass playing as a superhero in a superheroless world could be. Along with using sewer substations to make yourself a literal conduit the game was A+ at making you feel awesome. I won’t get into the story here, I’ll just say it does have a pretty major twist unveiled at the end. I’m not sure it was necessary, and many people despise the supposed bait-and-switch they pulled, but I was honestly fairly lukewarm on it. Definitely the most interesting part of the narrative, so I suppose I’m cool with it. It certainly sets up the next game to be truly epic. On a last note about the story, I absolutely love the comic art cinematics they used to cap off mission completions. It was probably for budget purposes, however the art was positively striking, and I can see why they made a comic series in the same style after the fact.
All that to say, Infamous is a fun time. As long as you’re keeping a brisk pace and you can be patient with the video-game equivalent of your slightly older, ever-so-slightly backwards cousin, you’ll have a good time here. And you should, because I think Infamous holds up well despite its flaws.
A Plague Tale: Innocence answers the hour old question of, “How good could a semi-historical fiction game about a sister and brother surviving a supernatural rat plague as they traverse famine-torn France be?” The answer is… surprisingly optimistic, much unlike the setting. Plague Tale is one of those story-driven, stealth-crafting hybrid games, and one of the better looking ones at that. And if there’s one thing to compliment about the game it’s its visuals. For a studio I’ve never heard of who’s claim to fame is gaming titans like Garfield: A Tale of Two Kitties, it’s extremely impressive how good the lighting, landscapes, and faces are here. The gothic architecture in particular was so darkly ethereal on its own, doubly so when overrun with mountains of plague-infected rats. Seeing how they would newly present those nasty forces of nature was a sight I never got tired of seeing, and rats or not rats I’m already excited to see how the sequel looks.
The same praises can be sung of the game’s combat and stealth. I went in expecting to tire of the whole babysitting dynamic they set up in the introduction section. So color me presently surprised when it was a quite inoffensive mechanic throughout. The crafting ingredients were well spaced out as well, by the end I had nearly every upgrade, or at least the ones that I wanted. Much like the visuals, the rats take center stage in this portion of the game, creating some neat light-based puzzle segments. Now even with the rats, the gameplay should be very familiar to anyone who’s played a puzzle game for more than five minutes, but I’ll be damned if it’s not entertaining. Especially with how weighty and supremely satisfying my trusty slingshot feels. The two main boss fights were fun with the upgrades to the traditional arsenal, but be careful when fighting the first one, there’s a glitch I encountered that forced me to restart the chapter. Just make sure when you summon the rats to only summon one mound before you move to the next one.
Regrettably, the game is not perfect. I won’t spoil the story here, but by far its weakest aspect is the characters. The brother-sister duo did a good job with portraying that dynamic, the supporting cast on the other hand felt very much like checking a box, with the exception of Lukas. I see what they were trying to do, making a merry-band of young adult misfits in a harsh world. Sadly the writing and characters weren't as fleshed out as the concept. The motivations, and definitely the payoffs, felt rushed and flat for me. Too many of the deaths felt unearned for me to feel their weight. That’s another thing I’m curious about how the sequel improves upon, seeing as it’s one of the few mediocre elements of an otherwise fantastic game.
The same praises can be sung of the game’s combat and stealth. I went in expecting to tire of the whole babysitting dynamic they set up in the introduction section. So color me presently surprised when it was a quite inoffensive mechanic throughout. The crafting ingredients were well spaced out as well, by the end I had nearly every upgrade, or at least the ones that I wanted. Much like the visuals, the rats take center stage in this portion of the game, creating some neat light-based puzzle segments. Now even with the rats, the gameplay should be very familiar to anyone who’s played a puzzle game for more than five minutes, but I’ll be damned if it’s not entertaining. Especially with how weighty and supremely satisfying my trusty slingshot feels. The two main boss fights were fun with the upgrades to the traditional arsenal, but be careful when fighting the first one, there’s a glitch I encountered that forced me to restart the chapter. Just make sure when you summon the rats to only summon one mound before you move to the next one.
Regrettably, the game is not perfect. I won’t spoil the story here, but by far its weakest aspect is the characters. The brother-sister duo did a good job with portraying that dynamic, the supporting cast on the other hand felt very much like checking a box, with the exception of Lukas. I see what they were trying to do, making a merry-band of young adult misfits in a harsh world. Sadly the writing and characters weren't as fleshed out as the concept. The motivations, and definitely the payoffs, felt rushed and flat for me. Too many of the deaths felt unearned for me to feel their weight. That’s another thing I’m curious about how the sequel improves upon, seeing as it’s one of the few mediocre elements of an otherwise fantastic game.
2024
Rest easy Outlast-heads, it’s finally here. It's been a long journey from first-look to release for this game, but the game is finally out, and it’s here to turn the formula on its head. Not only is it multiplayer now, your character remembers they can throw mad hands with the crazies! Outlast Trials is definitely a trial by fire game in that upon first bootup you’ll be running around like a chicken with your head cut off, with naked giants, gas happy lunatics, and banshee impersonators that will have you scream-laughing hysterically at your friends to come help you.
Don’t sweat it for a moment though, a few hours in and you’ll be a certified escape artist. Getting to know enemy behaviors, pathing patterns, and map layouts through repetition all help in making the game a slow simmer process. But that’s really the best way to learn. I was lucky enough to early on find a wise Trials elder in the wild who helped me get the fundamentals down, though really that can be supplemented with some simple experience and occasional web searches if it’s really not clicking fully with you. Remember, it’s not called Outlast Trials for nothing, as it is a definite trial and error game to begin with. Fortunately everything here is crafted expertly to immerse you in the world. The chest-mounted rigs that allow you to fight back minimally with smoke-bombs and stun nades do little to make you a terminator but it’s a good, logical step in the franchise’s evolution that I think works wonders here. Like in all multiplayer games, it can get a bit silly with perfect cooperation with friends that allow you to stunlock enemies for 30 seconds straight, but that’s the exception, not the rule, and it’s all temporary anyway. No permanent removal of enemies here.
To complement this change of pace, the thematic missions and villains, the sterile hub, and even the god forsaken arm-wrestling minigame all fit into the hellish Outlast world fantastically. On top of that the sound design and art direction is killer, with night vision lighting distinct from its predecessors but no less sublime. It’s clear the Red Barrels team has a vision and a passion with Outlast Trials. Perhaps the highest compliment I can give to Trials is that it is the one game that comes closest to maintaining a high “oh-crap” level even after throwing in a couple dozen hours into the game. It’s just so relentlessly suffocating and devoid of hope. Pair that with a cold-war setting and I’m hooked like it’s phonics.
But like all things, there’s two sides to every coin, and this game is no exception. Outlast Trials is a horror game in more than one way. It has committed the cardinal sin of being…… Early Access! And there’s two issues that come with that. Let’s start with the more minor one. Being an Early Access, multiplayer focused game, Trials doesn’t really have a continuous, sustained narrative or conclusion. It supplements this by having documents interspersed throughout trials randomly that you can pick up and helps you discover more about the history of the site, major players, and the world itself. It also has a pseudo-finale in its Program X, an amalgamation of the 3 other programs with increasingly difficult modifiers. Completing these unlocks the unique “escape” mission where you replay the introduction level but backwards. Naturally it’s not permanent nor particularly revelatory, nevertheless it gives you something to work towards.
The first half of these Program X trials find the perfect balance of fun and challenging. Given the nature of how you’re replaying the same trials over and over again, it can get easy faster than you’d think. So upping the stakes with extra lethal enemies and similar modifiers is more than welcome to me. It’s the second half of these missions I take umbrage with. It gets exponentially more difficult, with some nasty modifier stacking that I’m really not a fan of (looking at you no items + more enemies + no fun). You can technically beat the missions solo but you couldn’t pay me to be that patient, which sucks because the only real endgame as of now is locked behind beating that program. And you can’t just get anyone to beat it with. You need some great, coordinated players, no casual tomfoolery allowed. I’m not really sure why it’s that hard to begin with, considering how quickly they added Program Omega, another mission collection that’s just an even harder version of Program X where you’re forced to play with a team.
Wait, you say, what’s the problem with just grinding with a squad until you can beat the hardest missions with your eyes closed? And that’s where we get to the biggest issue of the game. It gets old long, long before you achieve enough spiritual enlightenment to beat the final levels. Early Access or not, this game was way too barebones at launch. The team’s not throwing in the towel luckily, but they need to pick up the pace on regular updates. Excluding the modifier modes, there’s three main Programs, each with a main mission and two smaller, slightly shorter mini-missions. These are not long missions mind you. Once you get a hang of the game the longer ones can be knocked out in less than 15 minutes and the smaller missions in less than 10. You can easily get through an entire rotation of missions in around 2 hours. It’s fun, I enjoyed my time solo, with randoms, and with friends. However, just a month in and I’ve shelved the game for the foreseeable future.
I heard they just released a new trial yesterday, a great step in the right direction, but they really need to let the creative juices flow. Create a custom mode where you can set your own modifiers, release new trials every 3 months instead of every 5 months, and do more to diversify gameplay. Introduced more mechanics, new enemy types, and fancy new items. It’s a heavy burden to keep the player base both on their toes and at the edge of their seats, yet even so I have faith in Red Barrels given their clean track record thus far. In all likelihood I’ll be back in a year or two to check in on the overall experience. Fingers crossed the game is all the more rich in content by then.
Don’t sweat it for a moment though, a few hours in and you’ll be a certified escape artist. Getting to know enemy behaviors, pathing patterns, and map layouts through repetition all help in making the game a slow simmer process. But that’s really the best way to learn. I was lucky enough to early on find a wise Trials elder in the wild who helped me get the fundamentals down, though really that can be supplemented with some simple experience and occasional web searches if it’s really not clicking fully with you. Remember, it’s not called Outlast Trials for nothing, as it is a definite trial and error game to begin with. Fortunately everything here is crafted expertly to immerse you in the world. The chest-mounted rigs that allow you to fight back minimally with smoke-bombs and stun nades do little to make you a terminator but it’s a good, logical step in the franchise’s evolution that I think works wonders here. Like in all multiplayer games, it can get a bit silly with perfect cooperation with friends that allow you to stunlock enemies for 30 seconds straight, but that’s the exception, not the rule, and it’s all temporary anyway. No permanent removal of enemies here.
To complement this change of pace, the thematic missions and villains, the sterile hub, and even the god forsaken arm-wrestling minigame all fit into the hellish Outlast world fantastically. On top of that the sound design and art direction is killer, with night vision lighting distinct from its predecessors but no less sublime. It’s clear the Red Barrels team has a vision and a passion with Outlast Trials. Perhaps the highest compliment I can give to Trials is that it is the one game that comes closest to maintaining a high “oh-crap” level even after throwing in a couple dozen hours into the game. It’s just so relentlessly suffocating and devoid of hope. Pair that with a cold-war setting and I’m hooked like it’s phonics.
But like all things, there’s two sides to every coin, and this game is no exception. Outlast Trials is a horror game in more than one way. It has committed the cardinal sin of being…… Early Access! And there’s two issues that come with that. Let’s start with the more minor one. Being an Early Access, multiplayer focused game, Trials doesn’t really have a continuous, sustained narrative or conclusion. It supplements this by having documents interspersed throughout trials randomly that you can pick up and helps you discover more about the history of the site, major players, and the world itself. It also has a pseudo-finale in its Program X, an amalgamation of the 3 other programs with increasingly difficult modifiers. Completing these unlocks the unique “escape” mission where you replay the introduction level but backwards. Naturally it’s not permanent nor particularly revelatory, nevertheless it gives you something to work towards.
The first half of these Program X trials find the perfect balance of fun and challenging. Given the nature of how you’re replaying the same trials over and over again, it can get easy faster than you’d think. So upping the stakes with extra lethal enemies and similar modifiers is more than welcome to me. It’s the second half of these missions I take umbrage with. It gets exponentially more difficult, with some nasty modifier stacking that I’m really not a fan of (looking at you no items + more enemies + no fun). You can technically beat the missions solo but you couldn’t pay me to be that patient, which sucks because the only real endgame as of now is locked behind beating that program. And you can’t just get anyone to beat it with. You need some great, coordinated players, no casual tomfoolery allowed. I’m not really sure why it’s that hard to begin with, considering how quickly they added Program Omega, another mission collection that’s just an even harder version of Program X where you’re forced to play with a team.
Wait, you say, what’s the problem with just grinding with a squad until you can beat the hardest missions with your eyes closed? And that’s where we get to the biggest issue of the game. It gets old long, long before you achieve enough spiritual enlightenment to beat the final levels. Early Access or not, this game was way too barebones at launch. The team’s not throwing in the towel luckily, but they need to pick up the pace on regular updates. Excluding the modifier modes, there’s three main Programs, each with a main mission and two smaller, slightly shorter mini-missions. These are not long missions mind you. Once you get a hang of the game the longer ones can be knocked out in less than 15 minutes and the smaller missions in less than 10. You can easily get through an entire rotation of missions in around 2 hours. It’s fun, I enjoyed my time solo, with randoms, and with friends. However, just a month in and I’ve shelved the game for the foreseeable future.
I heard they just released a new trial yesterday, a great step in the right direction, but they really need to let the creative juices flow. Create a custom mode where you can set your own modifiers, release new trials every 3 months instead of every 5 months, and do more to diversify gameplay. Introduced more mechanics, new enemy types, and fancy new items. It’s a heavy burden to keep the player base both on their toes and at the edge of their seats, yet even so I have faith in Red Barrels given their clean track record thus far. In all likelihood I’ll be back in a year or two to check in on the overall experience. Fingers crossed the game is all the more rich in content by then.
2008
Were there not a sequel, this may very well had been my favorite zombie game. Sorry Dead Rising, you’re a close runner-up. Everything about this 2008 arcade-y classic brings me back to a simpler time. Even though I didn’t play this entry as much as its sequel, it still blast-from-the-past jettisons me to that cozy mood of ever-present melancholy.
What’s weird is that I’m not typically a fan of Valve’s shooting mechanics. I’m one of the few people that just didn’t click with Counterstrike’s shooting and movement scheme. It felt clunky, odd, and unfit for first-person PvP gameplay. But for Left 4 Dead, it can’t feel more natural. The lack of aiming doesn’t bother me, the crouching for increased accuracy doesn’t frustrate me, and there being no running is simply incidental. I really think a large part of that difference lies in the transition from PvP to PvE, as well as the fact that these enemies don’t shoot back at you. The moderately fast run speed and the enemies running right up to you makes it perfect for both fast-paced speedruns or wait-back hunker down playstyles. Just don’t be too terribly slow or you’ll face quite a few AFK hordes.
Delightfully, this meat-and-potatoes design philosophy also extends to every other aspect of the game. All you have is a primary weapon, a secondary weapon, a healing item, a throwable explosive, and your wits. No esoteric perks, unique traits, or numerically ranked gear. Just run and shoot. Nothing but prime meat-grinder gameplay. Which brings me to my next adulation, the map design. Left 4 Dead proved all the way back in 2008 that you don’t need hand-holding to get across a map. Every corridor, stairwell, and alleyway flows so naturally into the next setpiece. It’s almost impossible to get lost. More importantly, it doesn’t come at the cost of contrived design choices made to baby-proof progression. I mean it when I say every aspect of this game is tightly designed to a T.
The narrative elements are sparse, with every new kernel acquired by safe-room writings, environmental storytelling, or voice lines by the characters you’re playing. All you need to know is a zombie outbreak just started (who would have thought?), and you’re rushing with your ragtag group of colorful survivors to reach the nearest safe haven. A task easier said than done judging by the number of missions in the game. As you could probably guess, I’m a big fan of this minimalistic style. We’ve all seen a million zombie stories. So when Left 4 Dead says let’s forgo the traditional song-and-dance and get right into the action I’m more than happy to oblige. Especially if I can play as my favorite cranky geriatric veteran Bill.
Now I know I’ve been gushing uncontrollably thus far, but why stop now. The lighting. Me likey. One of the biggest differences between Left 4 Dead 1 and 2 is the lighting, and with that, the mood. Though I think Left 4 Dead 2 improves on 1 in almost every facet, the dark, moody lighting in this game reigns supreme. It’s just so creepy and dreary, exactly how I’d like to imagine the end of the world would be. Gimme that overcast, week-late-on-the-electric-bill apocalypse all day every day. The very first chapter is a prime example of this, setting a thematically bleak tone for the rest of the game.
To add a hint of flavor and strategy the game, Left 4 Dead also introduces Special Infected, stronger, scarier, and dangerously enhanced zombies with their own gimmicks. Beyond having iconic designs, they also serve to address certain playstyles and challenge the player to switch tactics up when the situation allows for it. For example the Boomer punishes survivors who funnel hordes into point-blank kill-corridors, and the Hunter punishes survivors who go to far ahead of their teammates. Coupled with crescendo events — environmental interactions that causes an extra large horde to come after you— these touches of character help break up the potential monotony of just having the normal infected.
Bottom line being: try the game. With friends, alone, with the homeless man down the street. You’d have to be trying pretty hard to not have a fun time with this treat. There’s even a huge modding community. But don’t just take my word, there’s a reason the game has such a lively community 15 years later, and it’s not because Bill is just so damn charming.
What’s weird is that I’m not typically a fan of Valve’s shooting mechanics. I’m one of the few people that just didn’t click with Counterstrike’s shooting and movement scheme. It felt clunky, odd, and unfit for first-person PvP gameplay. But for Left 4 Dead, it can’t feel more natural. The lack of aiming doesn’t bother me, the crouching for increased accuracy doesn’t frustrate me, and there being no running is simply incidental. I really think a large part of that difference lies in the transition from PvP to PvE, as well as the fact that these enemies don’t shoot back at you. The moderately fast run speed and the enemies running right up to you makes it perfect for both fast-paced speedruns or wait-back hunker down playstyles. Just don’t be too terribly slow or you’ll face quite a few AFK hordes.
Delightfully, this meat-and-potatoes design philosophy also extends to every other aspect of the game. All you have is a primary weapon, a secondary weapon, a healing item, a throwable explosive, and your wits. No esoteric perks, unique traits, or numerically ranked gear. Just run and shoot. Nothing but prime meat-grinder gameplay. Which brings me to my next adulation, the map design. Left 4 Dead proved all the way back in 2008 that you don’t need hand-holding to get across a map. Every corridor, stairwell, and alleyway flows so naturally into the next setpiece. It’s almost impossible to get lost. More importantly, it doesn’t come at the cost of contrived design choices made to baby-proof progression. I mean it when I say every aspect of this game is tightly designed to a T.
The narrative elements are sparse, with every new kernel acquired by safe-room writings, environmental storytelling, or voice lines by the characters you’re playing. All you need to know is a zombie outbreak just started (who would have thought?), and you’re rushing with your ragtag group of colorful survivors to reach the nearest safe haven. A task easier said than done judging by the number of missions in the game. As you could probably guess, I’m a big fan of this minimalistic style. We’ve all seen a million zombie stories. So when Left 4 Dead says let’s forgo the traditional song-and-dance and get right into the action I’m more than happy to oblige. Especially if I can play as my favorite cranky geriatric veteran Bill.
Now I know I’ve been gushing uncontrollably thus far, but why stop now. The lighting. Me likey. One of the biggest differences between Left 4 Dead 1 and 2 is the lighting, and with that, the mood. Though I think Left 4 Dead 2 improves on 1 in almost every facet, the dark, moody lighting in this game reigns supreme. It’s just so creepy and dreary, exactly how I’d like to imagine the end of the world would be. Gimme that overcast, week-late-on-the-electric-bill apocalypse all day every day. The very first chapter is a prime example of this, setting a thematically bleak tone for the rest of the game.
To add a hint of flavor and strategy the game, Left 4 Dead also introduces Special Infected, stronger, scarier, and dangerously enhanced zombies with their own gimmicks. Beyond having iconic designs, they also serve to address certain playstyles and challenge the player to switch tactics up when the situation allows for it. For example the Boomer punishes survivors who funnel hordes into point-blank kill-corridors, and the Hunter punishes survivors who go to far ahead of their teammates. Coupled with crescendo events — environmental interactions that causes an extra large horde to come after you— these touches of character help break up the potential monotony of just having the normal infected.
Bottom line being: try the game. With friends, alone, with the homeless man down the street. You’d have to be trying pretty hard to not have a fun time with this treat. There’s even a huge modding community. But don’t just take my word, there’s a reason the game has such a lively community 15 years later, and it’s not because Bill is just so damn charming.
2006
About as racing as a racing game can be. I remember being kind of obsessed with this game as a kid. And to it’s credit, the terrain deformation and slow-mo crashes are pretty entertaining, and furthermore technically impressive for the time. AND THE VEHICLE NAMES. Peak middle school cool. Juvenile me very much approved. No joke there’s a Racing Truck named Voodoo Iguana, and better yet in one of the sequels there’s a motorcycle called Wasabi Katana. I like to imagine they had two darts boards full of random nouns and adjectives in the developer headquarters and whenever they needed a new vehicle name they got to throwing.
Unfortunately that’s where this game peaks. It’s a competent game, but not one that will hold your attention long. I like the format of motorcycles vs buggies vs big rigs vs trucks vs cars, it makes it more of a party racing game than a competitive one, and I even like that you’re restricted in certain races to specific vehicle types, with different routes better suited for for each dirt-kicker. My only technical issue with the game is most small and medium-size vehicles have overly tuned turn rates. Makes it a bit clunky when you’re just getting used to the movement.
That aside, the game feels very repetitive after a while, even adjusting for it being a drivey drivey vroom vroom game. Maybe some powerups or match modifiers would have given me more mileage. It goes without saying the online mode is kapoot, and with only one mode I can’t help but be burnt out before even halfway through this entirely too long game. Nostalgic fondness withstanding, MotorStorm is a second-rate game with third-rate staying power. As far as racing games are concerned, you could do much worse, but you could also do much better. I say keep this one on the shelves of time.
Unfortunately that’s where this game peaks. It’s a competent game, but not one that will hold your attention long. I like the format of motorcycles vs buggies vs big rigs vs trucks vs cars, it makes it more of a party racing game than a competitive one, and I even like that you’re restricted in certain races to specific vehicle types, with different routes better suited for for each dirt-kicker. My only technical issue with the game is most small and medium-size vehicles have overly tuned turn rates. Makes it a bit clunky when you’re just getting used to the movement.
That aside, the game feels very repetitive after a while, even adjusting for it being a drivey drivey vroom vroom game. Maybe some powerups or match modifiers would have given me more mileage. It goes without saying the online mode is kapoot, and with only one mode I can’t help but be burnt out before even halfway through this entirely too long game. Nostalgic fondness withstanding, MotorStorm is a second-rate game with third-rate staying power. As far as racing games are concerned, you could do much worse, but you could also do much better. I say keep this one on the shelves of time.
Perhaps the closest we’ll ever get to a Narcos game, this one took a while to click for me. When I first booted this baby up a year ago it was….eh. Kind of confusing and overly open-ended. Fast forward to this September and I finally mustered the motivation to give it another try. I don’t know what it is but it felt so much more simpler than I remember it being. The whole cartel system just felt right to me and soon I was on a roll. I’m not exaggerating when I say I probably marathoned every mission in the game by playing just this for a week straight.
Not without reason, both the combat and narrative backdrop was supremely satisfying. Watching the little debriefs on my target and then systemically destroying them morale-wise and strength-wise was magnifique. Seeing the reactions of cartel higher-ups to my upsetting the balance of power was uber-gratifying and the cherry on top. The prime directive of taking down head honcho El Sueño was just too tantalizing a goal to not pursue. When the power fantasy was finally realized I felt unstoppable. Like I said, the game is Narcos and I’m Javier Peña, but instead of red tape and prohibitive politicking I have a squad of homie dudebros and more bullet-shaped lead than we know what to do with. Add to that the customization is pretty sweet, micro transactions completely optional and unnecessary for me.
Of course none of this would be worth mentioning if not for the handling and gameplay. And man it is smoother in Wildlands than it gets credit for. The transitions, be it from third person to first, vehicle to ground traversal, or crouching to prone, are all super sleek animation wise and let you do a lot of tacticool maneuvers. Plus it is has one of the most consistently dependable vehicle handling schemes of any game I’ve ever played, with an asterisk for the sometimes dodgy driving on rocky terrain. But even then that’s just amusing. The gun handling and customization is fantastic to boot as well. No notes from me there except keep it up Mr Clancy.
The game design is most likely one you’re familiar with. Open-world venture with enemy outposts, bases, and miscellaneous villages strewn throughout. And honestly I’m sort of torn on this methodology. On the one hand, with such a strict narrative goal I can see how it’s hard to add too much variety to the gameplay and missions. But maybe a bit more time in the oven to justify such a large open-world may have been preferred. The actual outpost takedowns are awesome, naturally. And with as many as there are you learn quickly to get creative with your method of madness. It can’t be argued it’s not repetitive, but for some reason I don’t mind it here. Just gives me more practice runs as I perfect my Terminator emulation. Though my favorite infiltration style will always be the stealthy drone scouting followed by meticulous sniper shots method, where I pick them off one by one, or two by two or three by three when I use the AI.
Speaking of AI, let’s talk about your buddies. Their logic is a bit all over the place, but they don’t annoy me too often. They can be real nice when you want to eliminate someone out of Line of Sight, and they’re almost impossible to spot by enemies when you’re sneaking around, unrealistically so. As in an enemy won’t see them when they’re five feet away and looking right at them. But besides it insulting reality and logic I’d prefer that to being punished for not being on top of he AI commands as much as I should be. But man these guys have no self-preservation center in their brain. You get pinned down in a location you better hope they followed you inside or heed your follow command in time, because otherwise they’re about to go down quicker than you can say gesundheit. Again, not the worst, but this game definitively proves they have not created the perfect AI yet. Because when they do I just now their priority will be to use that technology to give me the perfect teammates.
I’ll be the first to say, by all accounts this game isn’t really anything special. Notable polish ignored its undeniably cookie-cutter. Despite that I can’t help but enjoy this schlock. It’s simply too primally fun to goof around and experiment with different weapons and styles. If you enjoy tactical third-person shooters, and especially if you have a squad of your own peeps who do too, then give this game some consideration.
Not without reason, both the combat and narrative backdrop was supremely satisfying. Watching the little debriefs on my target and then systemically destroying them morale-wise and strength-wise was magnifique. Seeing the reactions of cartel higher-ups to my upsetting the balance of power was uber-gratifying and the cherry on top. The prime directive of taking down head honcho El Sueño was just too tantalizing a goal to not pursue. When the power fantasy was finally realized I felt unstoppable. Like I said, the game is Narcos and I’m Javier Peña, but instead of red tape and prohibitive politicking I have a squad of homie dudebros and more bullet-shaped lead than we know what to do with. Add to that the customization is pretty sweet, micro transactions completely optional and unnecessary for me.
Of course none of this would be worth mentioning if not for the handling and gameplay. And man it is smoother in Wildlands than it gets credit for. The transitions, be it from third person to first, vehicle to ground traversal, or crouching to prone, are all super sleek animation wise and let you do a lot of tacticool maneuvers. Plus it is has one of the most consistently dependable vehicle handling schemes of any game I’ve ever played, with an asterisk for the sometimes dodgy driving on rocky terrain. But even then that’s just amusing. The gun handling and customization is fantastic to boot as well. No notes from me there except keep it up Mr Clancy.
The game design is most likely one you’re familiar with. Open-world venture with enemy outposts, bases, and miscellaneous villages strewn throughout. And honestly I’m sort of torn on this methodology. On the one hand, with such a strict narrative goal I can see how it’s hard to add too much variety to the gameplay and missions. But maybe a bit more time in the oven to justify such a large open-world may have been preferred. The actual outpost takedowns are awesome, naturally. And with as many as there are you learn quickly to get creative with your method of madness. It can’t be argued it’s not repetitive, but for some reason I don’t mind it here. Just gives me more practice runs as I perfect my Terminator emulation. Though my favorite infiltration style will always be the stealthy drone scouting followed by meticulous sniper shots method, where I pick them off one by one, or two by two or three by three when I use the AI.
Speaking of AI, let’s talk about your buddies. Their logic is a bit all over the place, but they don’t annoy me too often. They can be real nice when you want to eliminate someone out of Line of Sight, and they’re almost impossible to spot by enemies when you’re sneaking around, unrealistically so. As in an enemy won’t see them when they’re five feet away and looking right at them. But besides it insulting reality and logic I’d prefer that to being punished for not being on top of he AI commands as much as I should be. But man these guys have no self-preservation center in their brain. You get pinned down in a location you better hope they followed you inside or heed your follow command in time, because otherwise they’re about to go down quicker than you can say gesundheit. Again, not the worst, but this game definitively proves they have not created the perfect AI yet. Because when they do I just now their priority will be to use that technology to give me the perfect teammates.
I’ll be the first to say, by all accounts this game isn’t really anything special. Notable polish ignored its undeniably cookie-cutter. Despite that I can’t help but enjoy this schlock. It’s simply too primally fun to goof around and experiment with different weapons and styles. If you enjoy tactical third-person shooters, and especially if you have a squad of your own peeps who do too, then give this game some consideration.
It’s a shame to me that the most well-known SCP video game is a buggy, antiquated mess of a game. Yes it’s free, and yes it was only made by one guy, but no that does not make this one worth playing more than once. Congrats to Joonas Rikkonen for making something that’s as it good as it is with only some cheap assets and a low-grade engine he had on hand. Aaaaaand that’s as far as my good will goes on that front.
The ultra-basic graphics and gameplay is perfectly acceptable. I’m not even close to expecting anything above that, nor do I really care for it. I understand where SCP lies in terms of Creative Commons. I get you can’t monetize a lot of what makes SCP, well… SCP. And with friends in the multiplayer mod that’s the last thing your paying attention to. No, my problem lies in two major factors.
One, the map design. For the life of me I can’t fathom why Rikkonen would make the game procedurally generated. I don’t mind the concept, however it doesn’t work here at all. While I don’t hate the simple graphics and laboratory design on their own — though some differentiation between rooms wouldn’t hurt —, coupled with the different level generation every time you start a new seed, the game quickly becomes a hell of endless labyrinthian boring white walls and hallways. A labyrinth without of ounce of fun to walk around in. And your stamina blows, so be prepared to do a lot of 3 second sprints, stops, sprints, stops for HOURS as you backtrack trying to remember the order of the rooms you just passed was. The archaic navigation device you can find is only an incremental improvement, providing the most basic of map information. Not a fun time let me say, and completely up to chance as to whether you’ll get a good seed or not.
My second problem is with the progression overall. It’s so terribly unclear where to go, what order to do it in, and for that matter what I’m even trying to do. An hour in and I started using a guide. Even without that it wasn’t a walk in the park. The enemy kiting in this game is awful. Dead end? you’re dead. Two seconds of stamina ran out? Deader than dead. Trying to have more than five seconds alone without some creature chasing you endlessly? Sorry but that doesn’t compute. Near the end I got so frustrated I just turned on God mode and tried to beat the game anyway. As I was getting gutted by invisible creatures while a plague doctor infinitely choked me out for the 10 time I realized it was just not worth it anymore. For as much of a time sink as this is, it’s not nearly intuitive or exciting enough. If I really wanna see the ending one day I’ll get a hold of my good friend Unregistered HyperCam 2 and see what they got on YouTube. Until then, I’m content to leave this game on the shelf.
Look, I love SCP. And I know it’s a long shot to wait for a home-run game that checks every box of mine, but this game just doesn’t cut it for me. The integration of lore, items, and enemies is awesome. The execution of everything else? Not so much. Who knows, somebody taking another crack at this formula may very well give us the quintessential SCP one day. Just not today.
The ultra-basic graphics and gameplay is perfectly acceptable. I’m not even close to expecting anything above that, nor do I really care for it. I understand where SCP lies in terms of Creative Commons. I get you can’t monetize a lot of what makes SCP, well… SCP. And with friends in the multiplayer mod that’s the last thing your paying attention to. No, my problem lies in two major factors.
One, the map design. For the life of me I can’t fathom why Rikkonen would make the game procedurally generated. I don’t mind the concept, however it doesn’t work here at all. While I don’t hate the simple graphics and laboratory design on their own — though some differentiation between rooms wouldn’t hurt —, coupled with the different level generation every time you start a new seed, the game quickly becomes a hell of endless labyrinthian boring white walls and hallways. A labyrinth without of ounce of fun to walk around in. And your stamina blows, so be prepared to do a lot of 3 second sprints, stops, sprints, stops for HOURS as you backtrack trying to remember the order of the rooms you just passed was. The archaic navigation device you can find is only an incremental improvement, providing the most basic of map information. Not a fun time let me say, and completely up to chance as to whether you’ll get a good seed or not.
My second problem is with the progression overall. It’s so terribly unclear where to go, what order to do it in, and for that matter what I’m even trying to do. An hour in and I started using a guide. Even without that it wasn’t a walk in the park. The enemy kiting in this game is awful. Dead end? you’re dead. Two seconds of stamina ran out? Deader than dead. Trying to have more than five seconds alone without some creature chasing you endlessly? Sorry but that doesn’t compute. Near the end I got so frustrated I just turned on God mode and tried to beat the game anyway. As I was getting gutted by invisible creatures while a plague doctor infinitely choked me out for the 10 time I realized it was just not worth it anymore. For as much of a time sink as this is, it’s not nearly intuitive or exciting enough. If I really wanna see the ending one day I’ll get a hold of my good friend Unregistered HyperCam 2 and see what they got on YouTube. Until then, I’m content to leave this game on the shelf.
Look, I love SCP. And I know it’s a long shot to wait for a home-run game that checks every box of mine, but this game just doesn’t cut it for me. The integration of lore, items, and enemies is awesome. The execution of everything else? Not so much. Who knows, somebody taking another crack at this formula may very well give us the quintessential SCP one day. Just not today.
1996
This review contains spoilers
What an odd, quirky little game this one is. With a FMV presentation, a plot straight out of a fever dream, hyper violence, surprisingly mature sexual themes, all atop a satirical pastiche of the American Dream, it’s like this game was made for me. I can’t decide what I like more, the game or the idea of it. Harvester came out in what I consider to be one of the first virtual Wild Wests of the gaming-sphere. When games were really starting to push the envelope, both in maturity and in complexity of themes.
And that definitely becomes apparent when you see what sticks here and what doesn’t. For anyone out of the loop, I’ll give a quick rundown so we’re up to date on the game’s story. You’re Steve Mason, an 18 year old teenager that has suddenly woken up in Harvest, a small rural town unfamiliar to him. Family, neighbors, and fellow residents are all as equally strange to him as the locale. Giving cryptic answers, seemingly coached responses, and having darkly twisted morals, all given as if perfectly normal. Courtesy of a nasty case of amnesia, you’re tasked with figuring out what’s going on in this strange place, and why everyone is acting so weird. More specifically, you need to enter the city’s “lodge”, a special exclusive group that claims to have answers to your questions. But first you have to perform increasingly immoral tasks around town before they let you in. Along the way you meet Stephanie, another amnesiac teenager who shared your confusion. For this part of the game you have an unlimited amount of freedom to walk around town and talk to the locals. And for that and others reasons, it is the best part of Harvester.
With a population of just 50 people you wouldn’t think claustrophobia would be the name of the game here, but you’d be wrong. Everyone is just so off, and there’s no off-ramp for the insanity. From a sexually depraved mother, to a hyper-violence obsessed brother, to a cannibalistic butcher, there’s all manners of degeneracy represented. What really sets it apart is how well it straddles the line of being genuinely disturbing but also intensely funny at points. The absurdity of characters acting like nuking characters at the drop of a hat is normal, or having a kid who opens fire on you with a piece with ruthless efficiency for not giving him the newspaper that day just hits that sweet spot that every absurdist satire hopes to reach.
Conversely, the underlying themes of torture, cannibalism, incest, and sexual assault are all thoroughly sickening. There were times where I sincerely felt like putting some of these animals down. Altogether I found the juxtaposition of a 50’s era small-town and a band of vile caricatures so damn intriguing. Like I said, free exploration is allowed, which is both a curse and a blessing. You can talk to, bribe, extort, or even fight just about anyone in the game. Be wary because they fight back, sometimes leaving you dead, arrested, or just plain traumatized. My only complaint with this design is how easy it is to make a mistake and have to start over, and how optional some interactions are. For example the wasp lady and nuke guy were entirely plotless interactions who were kill-y than killer. And the nuke guy especially is the embodiment of a hair trigger red scare fanatic. A fun archetype, just ultimately not one that has any bearing on anything.
At its heart Harvester is a deconstruction. Specifically of the increasing prevalence of violence and sexual imagery in media. Ironically enough in a way Harvester is even a commentary critical of itself, echoing worries now long familiar with gamers everywhere. The concept of games corrupting the youth and the moral foundation of society. It does make use of its setting and time period, critiquing a thinly veiled caricature of the Red Ryder mascot just as quickly as it critiques video games and TV shows. Granted that doesn't mean every attempt is seamlessly crafted. Particularly the latter half lays it on reeeeeal thick with the paranoia. Though to be fair it can be hard to tell at times when the game is making fun of the satanic panic or actively supplying arguments it’s advocates would use. Beyond that it’s a take on the very real culture shift that’s taken place over the years. It’s not nuanced, and it’s not complete, but the root point demands some deeper examination, just not here. I mean having to increasingly perform worse and worse tasks to court membership in the lodge and figure out what’s going on provides a good dilemma, even if the consequences are mostly incidental. And having Stephanie as a peer with a sane perspective is a good grounding device. I only wish she played a bigger part in the game, instead of the after-thought she often felt like.
Now let’s skip to the latter half of the game’s narrative, after you’ve gained entry into the lodge. After Stephanie’s apparent murder just before you get accepted you’re all the more desperate to find answers to your questions. And it’s in the lodge where two major changes occur the the formula of the game. One, the game becomes much, much more combat focused. Whereas before you may have killed one or two people at most directly, during this part you’ll become a full-fledged killing machine. With insane humans, fleshly monsters, and eldritch creatures all forcing you to kill or be killed. This is where I’m less sure if I'd call it a good meta-commentary, as you’re not given much of a choice for most of these combat decisions, at least until you get to the trial rooms. And you can’t really make a good argument for sparing these demonic beasts and demons either. On top of that what was before small buildings and clearings has now been replaced by winding hallways, confusing corridors, and an utterly non-Euclidean architectural design pattern. It honestly felt a bit over designed and slightly tedious. Not to mention tough.
These beasts aren’t giving you an easy fight, and you’re far from a natural fighter. Picking up food items, secret weapons, and occasional restarts are all a natural consequence of this design. The trials near the end in the lodge were much more my speed. Short, succinct metaphors for life. Perhaps the most overt instances of parody in the game, these I could tell let the game designers go truly hog-wild with dialogue and horror. The most nonsensical commentaries mind you, but they gave us some cool, dreary vignettes. After all that, once you’ve cleaved and bargained your way to the final confrontation with the sergeant-at-arms, you’re finally given an answer for all the weirdness going on. Plus, you find out Stephanie is actually still alive! Turns out the spine from earlier was just a fake…..or somebody else's? Now, up until this point we understand clearly there’s something beyond a case of the crazies in this small town. Beyond your everyday case of moral degeneration, these FMV people are frequently seen portraying multiple characters. So what’s really going on? I had narrowed my suspicions down to three possibilities, with my prime theory being that the player character Steve was in some sort of coma, imagining people he knew in real life in a bizarre horror world that mirrored his anguish at being locked in his own body. So not too far from the truth.
You’re in a virtual world, created to test if a person can be driven to homicide by a matter of circumstances. Everything had been a test to get you closer and closer to shedding your own morality. The same is true for Stephanie. You two are the only real people in this simulation. And the sergeant-at-arms gives you a final choice. Kill Stephanie and return to the real world, or let yourself be killed with the consolation of experiencing a virtual simulation that makes you feel as though you’ve lived a full life with Stephanie before they pull the plug on you.
So what exactly are the choices here? Rise above your desire for freedom and temptation to shed the sanctity of life, or give in to a primal gratification of the body. This seems like a pretty easy choice, and it is in-game too unless you’re someone who likes to see the crazy endings in video games. It’s not like the player has actually been made deranged by the events in the story, however this does touch on an interesting choice that everyone must make in real life. Not a conscious choice, nor is it so grand and convoluted, but the idea that nurture reigns supreme over nature is still a hotly debated topic, and one that demands inspection. As hard as it is to quantity, it can’t be debated that upbringing and repeated traumatic events can permanently alter your behavior, values, and beliefs. In typical Harvester fashion it dials that up to 11. Good thing I’m not forming serious foundational beliefs from this silly game.
I know some people think the satire is tired and low-hanging fruit, but I can consume this stuff for days. I think the underlying mystery and creepiness is what makes it so captivating to me. On its own I might agree the game is a one-trick pony, and I’ll admit I have an unexplainable soft spot for Harvester, but the bizarre circumstances coupled with the active threats to your life give it a legitimately fun spin to your typical over-the-top fares. It lost me a bit on the tail-end with how it dragged, yet it’s still a fun romp highly accessible despite its age.
And that definitely becomes apparent when you see what sticks here and what doesn’t. For anyone out of the loop, I’ll give a quick rundown so we’re up to date on the game’s story. You’re Steve Mason, an 18 year old teenager that has suddenly woken up in Harvest, a small rural town unfamiliar to him. Family, neighbors, and fellow residents are all as equally strange to him as the locale. Giving cryptic answers, seemingly coached responses, and having darkly twisted morals, all given as if perfectly normal. Courtesy of a nasty case of amnesia, you’re tasked with figuring out what’s going on in this strange place, and why everyone is acting so weird. More specifically, you need to enter the city’s “lodge”, a special exclusive group that claims to have answers to your questions. But first you have to perform increasingly immoral tasks around town before they let you in. Along the way you meet Stephanie, another amnesiac teenager who shared your confusion. For this part of the game you have an unlimited amount of freedom to walk around town and talk to the locals. And for that and others reasons, it is the best part of Harvester.
With a population of just 50 people you wouldn’t think claustrophobia would be the name of the game here, but you’d be wrong. Everyone is just so off, and there’s no off-ramp for the insanity. From a sexually depraved mother, to a hyper-violence obsessed brother, to a cannibalistic butcher, there’s all manners of degeneracy represented. What really sets it apart is how well it straddles the line of being genuinely disturbing but also intensely funny at points. The absurdity of characters acting like nuking characters at the drop of a hat is normal, or having a kid who opens fire on you with a piece with ruthless efficiency for not giving him the newspaper that day just hits that sweet spot that every absurdist satire hopes to reach.
Conversely, the underlying themes of torture, cannibalism, incest, and sexual assault are all thoroughly sickening. There were times where I sincerely felt like putting some of these animals down. Altogether I found the juxtaposition of a 50’s era small-town and a band of vile caricatures so damn intriguing. Like I said, free exploration is allowed, which is both a curse and a blessing. You can talk to, bribe, extort, or even fight just about anyone in the game. Be wary because they fight back, sometimes leaving you dead, arrested, or just plain traumatized. My only complaint with this design is how easy it is to make a mistake and have to start over, and how optional some interactions are. For example the wasp lady and nuke guy were entirely plotless interactions who were kill-y than killer. And the nuke guy especially is the embodiment of a hair trigger red scare fanatic. A fun archetype, just ultimately not one that has any bearing on anything.
At its heart Harvester is a deconstruction. Specifically of the increasing prevalence of violence and sexual imagery in media. Ironically enough in a way Harvester is even a commentary critical of itself, echoing worries now long familiar with gamers everywhere. The concept of games corrupting the youth and the moral foundation of society. It does make use of its setting and time period, critiquing a thinly veiled caricature of the Red Ryder mascot just as quickly as it critiques video games and TV shows. Granted that doesn't mean every attempt is seamlessly crafted. Particularly the latter half lays it on reeeeeal thick with the paranoia. Though to be fair it can be hard to tell at times when the game is making fun of the satanic panic or actively supplying arguments it’s advocates would use. Beyond that it’s a take on the very real culture shift that’s taken place over the years. It’s not nuanced, and it’s not complete, but the root point demands some deeper examination, just not here. I mean having to increasingly perform worse and worse tasks to court membership in the lodge and figure out what’s going on provides a good dilemma, even if the consequences are mostly incidental. And having Stephanie as a peer with a sane perspective is a good grounding device. I only wish she played a bigger part in the game, instead of the after-thought she often felt like.
Now let’s skip to the latter half of the game’s narrative, after you’ve gained entry into the lodge. After Stephanie’s apparent murder just before you get accepted you’re all the more desperate to find answers to your questions. And it’s in the lodge where two major changes occur the the formula of the game. One, the game becomes much, much more combat focused. Whereas before you may have killed one or two people at most directly, during this part you’ll become a full-fledged killing machine. With insane humans, fleshly monsters, and eldritch creatures all forcing you to kill or be killed. This is where I’m less sure if I'd call it a good meta-commentary, as you’re not given much of a choice for most of these combat decisions, at least until you get to the trial rooms. And you can’t really make a good argument for sparing these demonic beasts and demons either. On top of that what was before small buildings and clearings has now been replaced by winding hallways, confusing corridors, and an utterly non-Euclidean architectural design pattern. It honestly felt a bit over designed and slightly tedious. Not to mention tough.
These beasts aren’t giving you an easy fight, and you’re far from a natural fighter. Picking up food items, secret weapons, and occasional restarts are all a natural consequence of this design. The trials near the end in the lodge were much more my speed. Short, succinct metaphors for life. Perhaps the most overt instances of parody in the game, these I could tell let the game designers go truly hog-wild with dialogue and horror. The most nonsensical commentaries mind you, but they gave us some cool, dreary vignettes. After all that, once you’ve cleaved and bargained your way to the final confrontation with the sergeant-at-arms, you’re finally given an answer for all the weirdness going on. Plus, you find out Stephanie is actually still alive! Turns out the spine from earlier was just a fake…..or somebody else's? Now, up until this point we understand clearly there’s something beyond a case of the crazies in this small town. Beyond your everyday case of moral degeneration, these FMV people are frequently seen portraying multiple characters. So what’s really going on? I had narrowed my suspicions down to three possibilities, with my prime theory being that the player character Steve was in some sort of coma, imagining people he knew in real life in a bizarre horror world that mirrored his anguish at being locked in his own body. So not too far from the truth.
You’re in a virtual world, created to test if a person can be driven to homicide by a matter of circumstances. Everything had been a test to get you closer and closer to shedding your own morality. The same is true for Stephanie. You two are the only real people in this simulation. And the sergeant-at-arms gives you a final choice. Kill Stephanie and return to the real world, or let yourself be killed with the consolation of experiencing a virtual simulation that makes you feel as though you’ve lived a full life with Stephanie before they pull the plug on you.
So what exactly are the choices here? Rise above your desire for freedom and temptation to shed the sanctity of life, or give in to a primal gratification of the body. This seems like a pretty easy choice, and it is in-game too unless you’re someone who likes to see the crazy endings in video games. It’s not like the player has actually been made deranged by the events in the story, however this does touch on an interesting choice that everyone must make in real life. Not a conscious choice, nor is it so grand and convoluted, but the idea that nurture reigns supreme over nature is still a hotly debated topic, and one that demands inspection. As hard as it is to quantity, it can’t be debated that upbringing and repeated traumatic events can permanently alter your behavior, values, and beliefs. In typical Harvester fashion it dials that up to 11. Good thing I’m not forming serious foundational beliefs from this silly game.
I know some people think the satire is tired and low-hanging fruit, but I can consume this stuff for days. I think the underlying mystery and creepiness is what makes it so captivating to me. On its own I might agree the game is a one-trick pony, and I’ll admit I have an unexplainable soft spot for Harvester, but the bizarre circumstances coupled with the active threats to your life give it a legitimately fun spin to your typical over-the-top fares. It lost me a bit on the tail-end with how it dragged, yet it’s still a fun romp highly accessible despite its age.
2022
This review contains spoilers
Clocking in at around 20 minutes, How Fish is Made makes the smart decision and doesn’t muck about wasting it’s precious little time. True to its title, the game is about how fish is made. To expound, you’re a sardine newly entering a fish processing plant, encountering oily new friends as you explore further and further into the facility. Not solely a walking simulator (or would it be flopping simulator?), each fish you meet has an interesting question they all echo. That is, once you reach the end of the plant, which way are you going, up or down? Given it requires an answer each time they ask you, I took it seriously and thought of a few different reasonings that ultimately made my choice down.
To start with the weakest reasoning, the text for Up is red and Down is blue. And as we all learned at school, blue = good and red = bad. It’s mathematically proven at this point. Thesis ready as that was, for more support I took a look around the processing plant. As the start would suggest, you seem to be entering a downwards-built processing facility, which would suggest the natural sequence would be to go down, so I should go up right? We’re not finished. This is no ordinary facility, I hope. There’s mystery liquid stagnant ponds, eye-wall structure thingamabobs, too-large caverns that become more and more Cronenbergian in design as you go further in, and most disturbingly of all a general feeling that you’re not in a facility at all, but some sort of organic mass.
Now, with either interpretation of what you’re in it would seem sensible to go up. If it is a facility, maybe going up would take you out of the machine altogether, giving you another chance at oily freedom and all its worldly pleasures. And if it is a creature you’re in, then going up would surely seem more preferable than the alternative, in both cleanliness and general risk. Well, since that seems the obvious choice, it can’t possibly be the right one, so I decided to go the other way. Perhaps they used reverse psychology, and going down would end well for us after all. Besides, we already came from above, might as well see what they got in the other direction. Of course, meta-gaming can only get you so far, and while fun to ponder, these are all very flimsy theories.
Don’t worry though, remember those fish friends I was talking about? They’re more than happy to give their own input. I love these scaley friends of ours. Some are braggards, claiming with unfounded confidence they know which way to go, while others are less sure, themselves sweating over making the decision. Despite there seeming to be no obligation, every fish knew that they could only delay it so long. That no matter how long you put it off you must eventually face that million dollar choice. Finding the other indecisive fin-having fellows to be of little help, I stayed strong on my choice of down. I figured what upside could there be to changing my answer.
It’s here where the real bait and switch of the game is performed. That must be it, I thought. A test of conviction. That changing my answer, though seeming to have no consequence, could lead me to a “bad ending”, the consummate gamer’s archnemesis. So stand strong I did. Then I met the last two fish, each the most useful of all the waterfolk we met previously. The penultimate fish acted as the meta exposition, outright questioning what you’re doing and why you’re doing it. Then gave two different explanation as to what the lesson is here. Is it a meaningless choice, or is it truly a test of conviction? Great, that’s another choice I have to make. Luckily the text for conviction was colored red, so we still have my rock-solid scientific method to fall back on.
Now normally I would call this clunky writing, to have them outright acknowledge the themes, but I think it works here. Throwing a wrench in the idea that there’s only message lends well to the over-analyzing this game thrives on, and it throws you off-kilter so effectively I just can’t muster the passion to deride it. Despite his later admission that he was just another lowly fish pretending to be of authority, his message still resonated. Still, I couldn’t falter at this point. So I stayed with my best friend Down.
The last fish, right before you make the decision for real this time, provides some stats like he’s some kind of Bill James. He tells you how many fish he’s seen go each way. He counted 199 fish that have gone down and 474 that have gone up. Interesting as it would appear, that little demographic does little to dissuade my love of down. Our final fish-bro’s not done yet though. He offers to go a direction we choose and yell at us what he sees as he goes through it. After sending him down he reports it’s “soft” before going silent. Alright, me and Tempur-Pedic are pretty tight, so make some room for me fish-bro. Steeling myself, I go down to the onyx abyss.
What splendors await me you ask? A yummy fish sandwich, with my sardine self providing the main protein. In other words, no bueno for me. A bad-ending perhaps, or maybe the only ending there is. The appetizer before our final form comes in the shape of some plain text on a black screen. A little send-off message. The author goes over how they hate the comfort given to people struggling that others are going through the same thing. They recognize this is unhealthy, before sending us off with the same message: “Don’t worry, a lot of people are going through the same thing.” It doesn’t take a genius to figure they’re likening the fish in the plant to those going through their own struggles. We might not be going at the same pace, but we all face trials and tribulations. Sometimes one’s we can’t avoid. Call me easy but I find this to be oddly endearing. I’m not familiar with the creator of the game but it feels startingly sincere and sobering.
Oh and to spoil the other ending, it’s just as unfortunate, with you becoming integrated into a huge mass of tormented fish flesh, unable to move or to exert agency. It’s here where the bait and switch I talked about is fully realized. It was never about conviction, except maybe for the benefit of your own self-respect. Changing your answer never amounted to any change. In fact, neither up nor down really mattered at all. Both were bad.
Which leads us to the main and largest theme of the game. That being the illusion of choice, the first theory posited and then dismissed by the penultimate fish. All that pondering, theorizing? All for nothing. You never had a chance to begin with. None of you and your fish friends did. Unbeknownst to you, you were all just helpless small fish in a scary world. Delay it as much as you want, you will have to face hardships, you might feel like a fish out of water, sometimes there will be no right answer. Certainly not one as simple as up or down. As the final text emphasized, sometimes all we can do is endure, It may not be romantic.
But that’s alright, just know,
a lot of people are going through the same thing.
To start with the weakest reasoning, the text for Up is red and Down is blue. And as we all learned at school, blue = good and red = bad. It’s mathematically proven at this point. Thesis ready as that was, for more support I took a look around the processing plant. As the start would suggest, you seem to be entering a downwards-built processing facility, which would suggest the natural sequence would be to go down, so I should go up right? We’re not finished. This is no ordinary facility, I hope. There’s mystery liquid stagnant ponds, eye-wall structure thingamabobs, too-large caverns that become more and more Cronenbergian in design as you go further in, and most disturbingly of all a general feeling that you’re not in a facility at all, but some sort of organic mass.
Now, with either interpretation of what you’re in it would seem sensible to go up. If it is a facility, maybe going up would take you out of the machine altogether, giving you another chance at oily freedom and all its worldly pleasures. And if it is a creature you’re in, then going up would surely seem more preferable than the alternative, in both cleanliness and general risk. Well, since that seems the obvious choice, it can’t possibly be the right one, so I decided to go the other way. Perhaps they used reverse psychology, and going down would end well for us after all. Besides, we already came from above, might as well see what they got in the other direction. Of course, meta-gaming can only get you so far, and while fun to ponder, these are all very flimsy theories.
Don’t worry though, remember those fish friends I was talking about? They’re more than happy to give their own input. I love these scaley friends of ours. Some are braggards, claiming with unfounded confidence they know which way to go, while others are less sure, themselves sweating over making the decision. Despite there seeming to be no obligation, every fish knew that they could only delay it so long. That no matter how long you put it off you must eventually face that million dollar choice. Finding the other indecisive fin-having fellows to be of little help, I stayed strong on my choice of down. I figured what upside could there be to changing my answer.
It’s here where the real bait and switch of the game is performed. That must be it, I thought. A test of conviction. That changing my answer, though seeming to have no consequence, could lead me to a “bad ending”, the consummate gamer’s archnemesis. So stand strong I did. Then I met the last two fish, each the most useful of all the waterfolk we met previously. The penultimate fish acted as the meta exposition, outright questioning what you’re doing and why you’re doing it. Then gave two different explanation as to what the lesson is here. Is it a meaningless choice, or is it truly a test of conviction? Great, that’s another choice I have to make. Luckily the text for conviction was colored red, so we still have my rock-solid scientific method to fall back on.
Now normally I would call this clunky writing, to have them outright acknowledge the themes, but I think it works here. Throwing a wrench in the idea that there’s only message lends well to the over-analyzing this game thrives on, and it throws you off-kilter so effectively I just can’t muster the passion to deride it. Despite his later admission that he was just another lowly fish pretending to be of authority, his message still resonated. Still, I couldn’t falter at this point. So I stayed with my best friend Down.
The last fish, right before you make the decision for real this time, provides some stats like he’s some kind of Bill James. He tells you how many fish he’s seen go each way. He counted 199 fish that have gone down and 474 that have gone up. Interesting as it would appear, that little demographic does little to dissuade my love of down. Our final fish-bro’s not done yet though. He offers to go a direction we choose and yell at us what he sees as he goes through it. After sending him down he reports it’s “soft” before going silent. Alright, me and Tempur-Pedic are pretty tight, so make some room for me fish-bro. Steeling myself, I go down to the onyx abyss.
What splendors await me you ask? A yummy fish sandwich, with my sardine self providing the main protein. In other words, no bueno for me. A bad-ending perhaps, or maybe the only ending there is. The appetizer before our final form comes in the shape of some plain text on a black screen. A little send-off message. The author goes over how they hate the comfort given to people struggling that others are going through the same thing. They recognize this is unhealthy, before sending us off with the same message: “Don’t worry, a lot of people are going through the same thing.” It doesn’t take a genius to figure they’re likening the fish in the plant to those going through their own struggles. We might not be going at the same pace, but we all face trials and tribulations. Sometimes one’s we can’t avoid. Call me easy but I find this to be oddly endearing. I’m not familiar with the creator of the game but it feels startingly sincere and sobering.
Oh and to spoil the other ending, it’s just as unfortunate, with you becoming integrated into a huge mass of tormented fish flesh, unable to move or to exert agency. It’s here where the bait and switch I talked about is fully realized. It was never about conviction, except maybe for the benefit of your own self-respect. Changing your answer never amounted to any change. In fact, neither up nor down really mattered at all. Both were bad.
Which leads us to the main and largest theme of the game. That being the illusion of choice, the first theory posited and then dismissed by the penultimate fish. All that pondering, theorizing? All for nothing. You never had a chance to begin with. None of you and your fish friends did. Unbeknownst to you, you were all just helpless small fish in a scary world. Delay it as much as you want, you will have to face hardships, you might feel like a fish out of water, sometimes there will be no right answer. Certainly not one as simple as up or down. As the final text emphasized, sometimes all we can do is endure, It may not be romantic.
But that’s alright, just know,
a lot of people are going through the same thing.
Given it’s nigh impossible to live in the first world and have not heard of this game, I won’t go into a lengthy introduction. Let’s just jump in. I played on mobile, normally a downgrade in terms of atmosphere and immersion. It doesn’t really make a difference here though. The game is simple in depth and mechanics enough that as long as you have relative peace and quiet for sound cues you’ll be ok.
As somebody who likes to take risks, this game was still VERY tight on the power management. To the point of annoyance. The first three nights of the eponymous five nights was nothing crazy. Check the cams often enough, but don’t be glued to them. Use power very sparingly and you’ll be good give or take a death or two. The fourth and fifth night on the other hand felt like huge jumps in difficulty. The fifth night especially. I’m not exaggerating when I say that within ten seconds every single time on the fifth night at least one animatronic would be at your door with Foxy not far behind. And if they didn’t get you then power-lossage was a very real possibility. That’s taking into account a near-ideal optimizations for power saving too, with delaying door closing as much as possible, opening them as soon as possible, and still the times were extremely close. Believe me when I say RNG is both your savior and your condemner. Random in-game button glitching, cams going down to let the animatronics move, or having the animatronics just straight up refusing to leave outside your room can easily be a ticket a quick trip to frustration land.
It’s that poorly managed RNG paired with shallow mechanics that provide little player expression that made me put the game down before I could beat the final night. You could be the best FNAF player in existence, perfectly optimizing battery usage and yet if RNGESUS doesn’t bless you, you’re not going to make it. Full stop. And after so many deaths the repetitive jump-scares became less suspenseful and more prohibitively drawn out.
It’s hard to believe this game would be the catalyst for the absolute WAVE of “mascot horror” we would continue to see a decade later. My advice if you want to finish the game? Take breaks, getting stuck in failure loops (like I did) will make you burn out very quick in a game like this. As a success story I admire this game. As a game it’s missing a few key elements, such as balance and interactivity, making it too punishing and too boring to see it though till the end. In terms of idle observer games, not a terrible start for a franchise from a one-man band, but I want to see more risks taken in future installments.
As somebody who likes to take risks, this game was still VERY tight on the power management. To the point of annoyance. The first three nights of the eponymous five nights was nothing crazy. Check the cams often enough, but don’t be glued to them. Use power very sparingly and you’ll be good give or take a death or two. The fourth and fifth night on the other hand felt like huge jumps in difficulty. The fifth night especially. I’m not exaggerating when I say that within ten seconds every single time on the fifth night at least one animatronic would be at your door with Foxy not far behind. And if they didn’t get you then power-lossage was a very real possibility. That’s taking into account a near-ideal optimizations for power saving too, with delaying door closing as much as possible, opening them as soon as possible, and still the times were extremely close. Believe me when I say RNG is both your savior and your condemner. Random in-game button glitching, cams going down to let the animatronics move, or having the animatronics just straight up refusing to leave outside your room can easily be a ticket a quick trip to frustration land.
It’s that poorly managed RNG paired with shallow mechanics that provide little player expression that made me put the game down before I could beat the final night. You could be the best FNAF player in existence, perfectly optimizing battery usage and yet if RNGESUS doesn’t bless you, you’re not going to make it. Full stop. And after so many deaths the repetitive jump-scares became less suspenseful and more prohibitively drawn out.
It’s hard to believe this game would be the catalyst for the absolute WAVE of “mascot horror” we would continue to see a decade later. My advice if you want to finish the game? Take breaks, getting stuck in failure loops (like I did) will make you burn out very quick in a game like this. As a success story I admire this game. As a game it’s missing a few key elements, such as balance and interactivity, making it too punishing and too boring to see it though till the end. In terms of idle observer games, not a terrible start for a franchise from a one-man band, but I want to see more risks taken in future installments.
2022
A compact experience even by Itch.io standards, Iron Lung relies on the design philosophy of tell don’t show. I don’t say that entirely facetiously, as that’s a perfectly acceptable way of worldbuilding and tension sustaining, so long as it hooks you with something too keep you entertained. Oftentimes the anticipation or imminent proximity to danger can be just as fulfilling as outright terror.
In Iron Lung you’re a wayward convict forcefully tasked with exploring a world overwhelmed by a ceaseless ocean of blood. The reason being that after every habitable planet suddenly and mysteriously disappeared, you and the rest of surviving humanity must search new solar systems in pursuit of food, shelter, and other valuables. What makes the premise particularly harrowing is the fact that your method of exploration lies solely in the eponymous Iron Lung, the name of the tiny, rickshaw submarine that you commandeer for the duration of the game. It’s about the length of a car and fitted with just three accoutrements. A console terminal, which can be used to find out more about the world, a simple coordinate-based navigation center, and a photo display that acts as the sole source of visual information outside the submarine.
It’s a brief adventure, requiring you to navigate to a list of coordinates using a reference map and take pictures of whatever is at them. Be it a plant, animal remains, or something more sinister. Since you don’t have consistent visuals on account of the depth of the ocean you’re in requiring the viewport to be welded shut, you have to use a motion sensor to let you know when you’re too close to an obstruction or debris. It’s almost impossible to die to it, it just makes it less straightforward than going directly from A to B. Even still, on it’s own the gameplay is quite one-dimensional. Thank goodness Iron Lung knows not to overstay it’s playtime. I guarantee that without the interesting premise tied to it this game wouldn’t be nearly as popular. No, this game is more focused on the slow build of anticipation as your observation pictures become more and more concerning. An objective greatly helped by the aid of a superb sound design. The leaky, bass-heavy hums and moans of the ocean is great on a good audio system.
While I’m aware that you’re suppose to rely on the sensors and whatnot, I can’t pretend I’m not disappointed you can’t use the camera system to more broadly explore the ocean. You can technically take pictures at any time, except when outside scripted sections they’ll just come out as indistinct photos every time. I know what I’m proposing would put the onus on the player, but imagine how much more impactful it would be for the scariest, most disturbing image to come from the player’s own curiosity.
Oppositely, the console terminal felt like a great organic source of worldbuilding. They didn’t make the mistake some games do where they have 100 different logs from 30 different people meticulously talking about how they hate the cereal they eat every morning and other nonsense I don’t care about. It’s very straight and to the point while sparking a genuine interest in the world. The only problem is that Markiplier movie notwithstanding, I’m not sure where else you can take the property that wouldn’t eliminate the nebulous horror it thrives on. I wouldn’t be against them trying, it’s just a precarious situation. One that those familiar with cosmic horror know all to well.
It’s a low investment venture where you get what you pay for. If you enjoy austere games where the emphasis is on the unknown rather than the observable, if you think the premise sounds fascinating, or if you just fancy cozy itch.io titles then this will be right up your alley. The ending is kind of anticlimactic, yet it did little to detract from the experience as a whole. My advice before you play is to not overhype it. Many people, myself included, make the mistake of seeing a game like Iron Lung skyrocket up in the pop-culture zeitgeist and then build too-high expectations from it. Meet the game where it is and you’ll have a decent time.
In Iron Lung you’re a wayward convict forcefully tasked with exploring a world overwhelmed by a ceaseless ocean of blood. The reason being that after every habitable planet suddenly and mysteriously disappeared, you and the rest of surviving humanity must search new solar systems in pursuit of food, shelter, and other valuables. What makes the premise particularly harrowing is the fact that your method of exploration lies solely in the eponymous Iron Lung, the name of the tiny, rickshaw submarine that you commandeer for the duration of the game. It’s about the length of a car and fitted with just three accoutrements. A console terminal, which can be used to find out more about the world, a simple coordinate-based navigation center, and a photo display that acts as the sole source of visual information outside the submarine.
It’s a brief adventure, requiring you to navigate to a list of coordinates using a reference map and take pictures of whatever is at them. Be it a plant, animal remains, or something more sinister. Since you don’t have consistent visuals on account of the depth of the ocean you’re in requiring the viewport to be welded shut, you have to use a motion sensor to let you know when you’re too close to an obstruction or debris. It’s almost impossible to die to it, it just makes it less straightforward than going directly from A to B. Even still, on it’s own the gameplay is quite one-dimensional. Thank goodness Iron Lung knows not to overstay it’s playtime. I guarantee that without the interesting premise tied to it this game wouldn’t be nearly as popular. No, this game is more focused on the slow build of anticipation as your observation pictures become more and more concerning. An objective greatly helped by the aid of a superb sound design. The leaky, bass-heavy hums and moans of the ocean is great on a good audio system.
While I’m aware that you’re suppose to rely on the sensors and whatnot, I can’t pretend I’m not disappointed you can’t use the camera system to more broadly explore the ocean. You can technically take pictures at any time, except when outside scripted sections they’ll just come out as indistinct photos every time. I know what I’m proposing would put the onus on the player, but imagine how much more impactful it would be for the scariest, most disturbing image to come from the player’s own curiosity.
Oppositely, the console terminal felt like a great organic source of worldbuilding. They didn’t make the mistake some games do where they have 100 different logs from 30 different people meticulously talking about how they hate the cereal they eat every morning and other nonsense I don’t care about. It’s very straight and to the point while sparking a genuine interest in the world. The only problem is that Markiplier movie notwithstanding, I’m not sure where else you can take the property that wouldn’t eliminate the nebulous horror it thrives on. I wouldn’t be against them trying, it’s just a precarious situation. One that those familiar with cosmic horror know all to well.
It’s a low investment venture where you get what you pay for. If you enjoy austere games where the emphasis is on the unknown rather than the observable, if you think the premise sounds fascinating, or if you just fancy cozy itch.io titles then this will be right up your alley. The ending is kind of anticlimactic, yet it did little to detract from the experience as a whole. My advice before you play is to not overhype it. Many people, myself included, make the mistake of seeing a game like Iron Lung skyrocket up in the pop-culture zeitgeist and then build too-high expectations from it. Meet the game where it is and you’ll have a decent time.
Whistleblower may technically be a DLC, but for me it’s Outlast 1.1. Our main character still hasn’t learned how to talk, luckily he’s not nearly as stupid as our protagonist in the first one, ignoring him trying to expose his employers WHILE STILL IN THE FACILITY. It’s no secret I relished the first game, and that trend continues in the DLC. If I could point to only one game that smartly, most generally encapsulates the wide genre of horror in the most accessible way possible I would point to Outlast. It feels like the most horror game of all horror games. I don’t mean it’s my favorite horror title, or that it’s the scariest game I’ve played. What I mean is that both of these outings feel like the most succinct examples of classic horror in setting, tone, and story.
It’s just two games about two men in an insane asylum who very much should not and do not want to be there, encountering truly vile creatures at every step of the way as they fight to escape. Fight being figurative, as the game doesn’t let you fight back. It’s a little frustrating, but I suppose it works with the themes of utter helplessness that this franchise loves. Besides some optional documents there’s no excess of nonconsensual lore, out-of-place puzzles, or tonally clashing gameplay switches. You’re just some nerd with a camera and a dream. And If there’s one thing that this DLC gets right, it’s the crazies, or as the game supplies in a more PC manner, the variants.
Frank fits in right at home with his cannibalistic tendencies, and don’t even get me started on Eddie Gluskin. I won’t spoil in case anyone reading isn’t familiar with his…. style. I know I said this isn’t the scariest game I played, but man. This guy, as a guy myself, makes me question that. What a downright horrific dilemma he puts the player in. I didn’t think they could top Trager’s quasi-medical torture in the first game, now look who has egg on his face. All in all a 10/10 in terms of upping the ante on the derangement for this game. In fact, I’d probably go back to this DLC before I went back to the main title again.
The first game was short so it shouldn’t be a surprise that it’s DLC is even shorter. Still, it’s cheap and frequently comes with the base game anyway. Because of that I’ll say what I often do when recommending sequels, seeing as it applies doubly so here as a 1:1 DLC. If you like the first game, get this one. If the franchise’s commitment of helplessness bothers you yet you still have latent interest in the world, then maybe Outlast: Trials is more your thing. It’s multiplayer sure, but you can also throw bricks at people.
It’s just two games about two men in an insane asylum who very much should not and do not want to be there, encountering truly vile creatures at every step of the way as they fight to escape. Fight being figurative, as the game doesn’t let you fight back. It’s a little frustrating, but I suppose it works with the themes of utter helplessness that this franchise loves. Besides some optional documents there’s no excess of nonconsensual lore, out-of-place puzzles, or tonally clashing gameplay switches. You’re just some nerd with a camera and a dream. And If there’s one thing that this DLC gets right, it’s the crazies, or as the game supplies in a more PC manner, the variants.
Frank fits in right at home with his cannibalistic tendencies, and don’t even get me started on Eddie Gluskin. I won’t spoil in case anyone reading isn’t familiar with his…. style. I know I said this isn’t the scariest game I played, but man. This guy, as a guy myself, makes me question that. What a downright horrific dilemma he puts the player in. I didn’t think they could top Trager’s quasi-medical torture in the first game, now look who has egg on his face. All in all a 10/10 in terms of upping the ante on the derangement for this game. In fact, I’d probably go back to this DLC before I went back to the main title again.
The first game was short so it shouldn’t be a surprise that it’s DLC is even shorter. Still, it’s cheap and frequently comes with the base game anyway. Because of that I’ll say what I often do when recommending sequels, seeing as it applies doubly so here as a 1:1 DLC. If you like the first game, get this one. If the franchise’s commitment of helplessness bothers you yet you still have latent interest in the world, then maybe Outlast: Trials is more your thing. It’s multiplayer sure, but you can also throw bricks at people.