Hands down Sam Barlow's best work so far. Switching from textual to visual searches is a brilliant move in conjunction with a shift in storytelling from the literal to the symbolic, drawing the player's attention over and over again to the images that are shared across the stories. The mechanics themselves blur the line between the sign and its meaning, linking a picture at now to another picture and now to the person the picture depicts, harmonizing with the thematic focus on the dissolving boundary between actor, role, and audience.

Immortality is Lynchian, in the sense that it uses a nexus of symbols and raw emotion to argue that the banal humanity of everyday life affects and reflects the grand arcs of humanity. Although the initially-obscure narrative does eventually take clearer form once you dive deep into the depths of the game, it remains resolutely unwilling to sacrifice the breadth of its symbolic resonance at the altar of "lore" by answering every question the player has. It is a game that sticks in one's mind and demands to be mulled over again and again, rewarding this thought with glimmers of insight that feel deeply earned.

This game really wants you to regret your murder spree, subjecting you to scenes that are downright grotesque at times. Yet they went out of their way to not only reintroduce, but refine the third person combat so it feels better than ever. Putting aside the story, it never knows how to reconcile the tension of those two desired emotions: you shoot an enemy and it gives that satisfying red “blink” on the cursor, only to listen to them scream in agony for a solid 30 seconds.

“Ludonarrative dissonance” was a popular topic around the time of the Uncharteds: much electronic ink was spent asking how Nathan Drake could yuk it up with his body count. But if The Last of Us Part 2 teaches us anything, it’s that a light-hearted pulp hero shooting an entire standing army is less disingenuous than a gratifying shooting gallery that demands you THINK about what you’re doing.

“Don’t you feel terrible about shooting this dog?” My brother in Christ, you put the dog in the game to be shot!

(We’d also like assurances that the people behind that one awful arm scene are doing all right)

it's hard for me to write a review about this game. i feel like it was designed in a lab to be optimally enjoyable for exactly me, much like how McDonald's french fries are chemically engineered to be Mathematically and Provably Delicious for the general American public.

i can't talk about Neon White without talking about Arcane Kids. in the mid-10s, being someone who staked a lot of identity into playing games was profoundly embarassing. ignoring the truly heinous shit that goes without saying, year after year, AAA studios continued to pump out "mids at best." on the other side of things, "indie" games were no longer new and were in something of an awkward puberty. i can't tell you how many "physics-based puzzle platformers with a gimmick" i had pitched to me that promised to be Actually Good. they weren't. however, during this time, the Unity weirdos were churning away in their art scenes around the globe. the new derisive joke became "make a game in unity, make a million dollars." of course, the people making these jokes didn't know what they were talking about, but i guess none of us really did back then.

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Arcane Kids existed as something of an antithesis to the games of the time. when we had more than enough pixel-art RPGs, they gave us ZINETH. when we got innundated with walking simulators, they gave us Bubsy 3D: Bubsy Visits the James Turrell Retrospective. when indies decided to try and be funny with things like Goat Simulator, we got Sonic Dreams Collection, CRAP! No One Loves Me, and this (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-RNCyc3hzAw). while a lot of these games were "funny" or "jokes," they always had deeper ideas to them beneath the surface around player agency, the joy of moving your avatar, the love of Videogames As Videogames.

i cannot possibly explain how strange it felt to turn on the game and have the title screen after the intro cutscene splash in with a voice echoing "NEON WHITE" as the moodiest witch house track creeps in through your headphones. the fake scanlines, the neon glow on the characters, the tone, the vibes. i thought to myself, "they finally did it." as i played more, i confirmed my suspicions.

Arcane Kids finally made the game it feels like they had been working toward all these years. blazing fast, huge jumps, easy-to-learn-but-hard-to-master, tight, violent, horny, loud, freaky, all at once. in Mission 11, as breakneck-paced breakcore blasted out of my screen, i screamed aloud in my room to my partner who was watching me play "I. FUCKING. LOVE. THIS. GAME." in time with each click of the RMB that shot me across the map at incredible speeds. in moments like this, you know for a fact that moments like Bubsy pulling out an uzi and a katana at the end of Bubsy 3D or them subjecting a crowd of people at a game conference to vape trick videos that inspired their previous game (https://youtu.be/2pO23GTaBtk?si=ldB9w6CU2UC3TkHI&t=1791) was not just them contributing to the general irony-poisoned sense of humor of the time; they legitimately thought that it was tight as fuck.

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one line from the infamous Arcane Kids Manifesto (https://arcanekids.com/manifesto) that i always think about is "the purpose of gameplay is to hide secrets."

at a time when even FromSoft has started to move away from their smaller, more-focused world design in favor of chasing the lucrative open-world design potential in Elden Ring, it feels amazing that we have a game like Neon White that is about intricately crafted and infinitely replayable level design. after years of waiting, we finally have the one true Indie Puzzle Platformer, but this time it has guns.

the gameplay (for me, usually) fell into a flowchart like this:
-beat a level once and get whatever medal you get
-go back to find the secret gift
-during this second trip, notice which parts of the levels you can skip or save time on that were hidden to you before
-play the level a 3rd time to get a gold medal
-use the hint from the Gold medal to get an Ace medal on your 4th time
-over time, you begin to amass a collection of "hey, did you know this quirk" movement secrets like shooting bullets, bunny hopping after a dash, or sliding with the shotgun's discard

game design that calls attention to itself like this is beautiful. level designers are artists. we've known this since Doom WADs. however, in the time since Doom we've had several games like Gears of War, Halo, and their ilk that said "wasn't the sickest part about Doom being a huge buff guy with loud guns just blasting disgusting freaks and seeing them explode???" while that does indeed whip, Neon White is on the other side of the coin saying "wasn't the best part about Doom the level design and the joy of figuring out how to move as fast as you can through a level???"

after 11 years of watching speedrunning streams nearly every day, Neon White finally made me feel like maybe i could do it too. first you pit yourself against the Ace medal time, then your friends, then the Dev Times, then your own ghost, and then the world. to this day, i have yet to have a global #1, but i've had a #2 and two #3s. i'll keep going though.

[EDIT 7/17/23: i did it :) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWT2b9pwRMI]

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Neon White is a love letter in videogame form

a game of tension, tension, tension, and release

in Dark Souls, the tension builds from the players exploring the world, scared to make a misstep because of the fear of losing all that they've just worked to gather to become stronger. as the game goes on, the player becomes a little more fearless. you can just run past everything to the bonfire. you don't care about dying as much because you know you can reclaim your souls. even bosses become relaxing once you've memorized every possible pattern. it's like playing a song you know by heart.

so much of sekiro is an inversion of this. in the overworld, now YOU are the beast that descends from unseen places and one-shots your enemy. you have unlimited stamina to outrun any foe, you have a grappling hook that allows you to reach places that others can't, you have a huge toolbox to get through every encounter. stalking your prey doesn't ratchet up the tension, it's all in the clashing of swords.

with Dark Souls, if you got hit, it was a fundamental mistake: you shouldn't have been standing there, you should have rolled, you should have known better. with Bloodborne it evolved: it's okay to get hit now and again because you can just get it right back if you're aggressive enough. but in Sekiro it reaches it's peak: YES, you WANT to get hit, but you just have to make sure you're getting hit the best that you can.

often times, the fastest, safest, and, sometimes, only way to victory is to stay on your opponent, give them no breathing room, get hit and deflect perfectly, capitalize on openings. coming from being a Bloodborne-first (and obsessed) player, i struggled a lot with staying so close. at first it is terrifying to just sit and wait to get hit, throttling the shoulder button out-of-sync to try and desperately avoid what's coming at you. as time goes on, you feel the familiar boss rhythms like other FromSoft games. you lock into the groove of your opponent. the tension is still there, it just shifts to become anticipation.

the game has some of my favorite moments in all of the post-DS FromSoft. it's playful and macabre all at the same time. also, if you just go for Vitality kills most of the time because you're a bimbo like me, YOU ARE VALID