10 reviews liked by Zigbiel


when i say that this game saved my life, i mean it in every sense of the word. this game holds such a deeply important and foundational part of my being, and i truly can't recommend it enough. for everything that it's done for me, i firmly believe it can do for everyone who plays.

our story begins with a rag-tag team of heroes one hundred strong, battling it out with otherworldly threats every other day to decide the fate of the earth. as the game progresses, you get a chance to see the many ways they interact with each other and the world around them. it's well paced and has plenty of twists & turns along the way. replaying the game all the way through will give you context you would have otherwise missed, to boot.

this game is a fun and unique experience initially crafted for the wiiU, with the main crux of the gameplay being the unite morph feature; wonderful ones link together in single file line, creating the wonder-liner. by drawing shapes, you can morph your allies into weapons, objects, tools and more. the best way i can think of to describe the gameplay is something akin to super sentai pikmin, what with how you command an army of bite-sized heroes to do what you want.

now before anything, what issues do i have with this game? quite literally only one. and it only applies to the remaster.

the gameplay translates well onto other platforms, with the sole exception of the fact that the dual screen is clunkily implemented. while on its home console it would be as simple as looking down, the single-screen adaptation of this game brings with it challenge. most of the time you either need to have the screen brought up with a button combination, or have the main screen shrunk off to the side to make room for the sub screen. neither method is particularly well done, but it's honestly decent enough for the purpose it serves. most of the time the main screen is all you need, but it's in those finicky (and honestly gimmicky) moments that it becomes an issue.

aside from that, everything else in this game is absolutely stellar. the characters are well fleshed out and engaging, the story is easy to follow with genuinely intriguing beats, and the gameplay is unlike anything else i've seen. by far, this game has some of my favourite mechanics in any video game.

combat flows smoothly and rapidly, divided into operations (sections) that provide ample opportunity for things like speedrunning and perfecting your craft. if there's a level you enjoy, you can work at it over and over again to earn the prestigious pure platinum ranking at the end of the level. you can repeat any mission at any time, with most being split into 3 operations. you must play through each operation from the beginning, though; so going through in one straight shot is the only method of grinding out difficult parts.

if collection is more your speed, the game provides for you as well; collectables are rife in this game, providing you with lore, gallery pieces, achievements, hidden surprises, and much more. crafting is a smaller part, but it provides you items to use in levels once you have collected enough resources. the game rewards you for exploring through these things. slow or fast, whatever you want; the wonderful 101 provides and accommodates.

in that gameplay, there is also room for customization. finding your main and building a kit that works for you is part of the charm. the progression of this kit is resource-based, but well implemented. the crucial bits of the base kit are cheap, and any upgrades to those scale accordingly.

now, onto what i said earlier. this game genuinely did save my life. i was 11 in 2013. if it wasn't for the wonderful 101, i would not have been around to celebrate my 20th this year. it's hard to believe it's been that long since the darkest point in my life, but i'm a testament to the fact that awful times can and will get better with a little help.

i won't go into detail, but the only joy i found came in watching nintendo trailers with my brother. i think we used to watch them in the 3ds eshop. but lo and behold, the trailer for the wonderful 101 showed up one day. i was obsessed right from the get-go. a team of super heroes that work with and rely upon one another in such an intimate way to save the entire earth... something about it struck me. i watched that trailer over and over and over again, every single day. and when the wonderful 101 extended trailer came out, i watched that into the ground as well. i can still quote it word for word.

i played that game every single day. it was my light. when things were bad, i knew the wonderful ones would have my back. i felt like part of something. i genuinely did. the opening cinematic reminded me of that every time i booted up the game. "i knew we forgot someone; you." it gives me chills to this very day. i would seek out any and all fan art, i wrote fan fiction placing a gaudy little self insert into the world of the wonderful ones, i based everything i did around it. it became my life. it was my hope. it was everything to me. that little light at the end of the tunnel.

this is a game where the characters are accepted as they are, and regardless of their flaws they were still a part of the team. their unique abilities become something that is worked with, instead of repressed. they still contributed something to the world regardless of what they were. whether they were a teacher, a student, a prodigy, a detective or an artist, they all became equal when they put on the mask.

for those unaware, "masking" is a neurodivergent term that essentially equates to pretending to be "normal" in the eyes of others. it involves suppressing your symptoms and ignoring what comes naturally to you. masking costs a lot of energy to maintain. when you let the mask down, when you doff what is expected of you... that is where the true, authentic self is. the symbolism of the mask in this game is present; in the mask, there comes a level of detachment... yet there also comes power in letting that mask down, as you'll see later on in the story.

i experienced all of this far before my diagnosis with autism, but i feel that my experience with the wonderful 101 was a major cornerstone in understanding myself and the way i interact with the world because of it. it resonated with me for that exact purpose. everyone in the game is flawed, they interact with their surroundings in a unique way... yet they are not shunned for it. in fact, it becomes a mechanic, this unique individual contribution. this was my first true special interest, and it persists to this day.

the wonderful 101 is about finding yourself. finding others who, despite any differences, appreciate and respect you. and it's about working as one despite these differences. more than anything, it's about pushing past the trauma you have experienced, and becoming better for it. over and over again, characters are shown to be broken, hampered, hurt by their past... yet always, no matter what, they push past. they find their stride, and walk that path with power and confidence. finding who you are in relation to your unique circumstances, that's how you grow. that's where true power is.

unity, found family, appreciation. that's what this game is at its core. the explosions and supermassive monsters are the fun little cake on top, but that true meaning is there if you look. and it means something different to everyone who plays. that's the magic of this game.

replaying and rediscovering this game that means so much to me is like a dream come true. and now that it's accessible to more people than ever before, i urge you to play. i urge you to become a part of the wonderful 101. it might just give you what it gave me all those years ago.

putting it into words is nearly impossible, but i've done what i can here. it's something truly wonderful.

East 1 Repeat 3. audience stares at me in anticipation. the player to my west has shot himself in the head. player to my north disconnected to have sex. player to my east has an emoji macro off cooldown. he discards a 7-pin.
"Ron"
my greasy hands flip my tiles down to reveal my single wait riichi bet, value of 1 han. pants full of shit from anxiety, I stand up and face the crowd.
"Mahjong SOUL!"

Too often I think we are chained by the systematization of concepts and sensibilities to truly grasp the way in which the vibrations and rendering of place and action can exist through digital spaces. Within a ten-minute text-adventure game on itch.io (constituted almost entirely of raw-text sentences on a blank wallpaper) I've intuited more textures and tastes of imagery and landscapes than any video-essay or structured analysis I've ever seen. Maybe it's a sort of cathartic and utopian awakening to touch a work that manages to portray this sort of ambiguity regarding the lens through we which we "feel" aesthetics in games (which is almost uncharted territory in terms of definition since we can't even manage to determine what 'game design' is) and not succumb to this cynic preposition of everything needing function and purpose through some sort of utilitarian perspective regarding "intention", that is, the sort of evaluation that seems to look at art from the outside instead of the inside, and I think that's the key point overall I'm trying to make. In order for something to "succeed" or to be "convincing" to one's understanding of art there's a certain undertone that implies a sort of staticity in our "digestion" of those experiences, a voyeuristic excitement at 'consuming' works that are, to our eyes, something that exists in our plane first and in their plane last.

"feelsgood" and "gamefeel" are wide-ranging adjectives I've seen be used in game criticism for a while in both bad and good connotation but we sometimes forget how those concepts of "crunchiness" or "pleasure" traverse for one person and the other. The popping little explosions of Kingdom Hearts' keyblade plummeting the enemy away like a ragdoll and Doom's shotgun ravaging its way through the fleshy insides of a demon is a very superficial comparison I'm making on the fly to demonstrate the differences in "feel" interactive fiction can create, but in that sense why do we tend to use this word as if it somehow systematized and encompassed all sorts of feel into a concept that can be 'good' or 'bad' depending on context? Sometimes it feels good to hit things. Sometimes it feels awful but it is also compelling. Sometimes a world can exasperate its breath through traversal and physical connection like Breath of the Wild does with its ephemeral assimilation of challenges and progression, and sometimes it can inspire action and improvisation on virtual architecture like Sonic Adventure, begging us to ramp and spindash through hubs and places that mechanically only exist to grant a sense of friction to movement, but inspire the imagination and playfulness of running through their skies, water and colors --- Sonic Adventure's "jank" gives these spaces life in the unpredictability of direction and speed. If there's one thing I learned with Video Game Feminization Hypnosis is that most things I love about games I love will probably remain unspeakable, verbalized mysteries until the day I forget what words mean and only feel the sunshine of Outrun 2's skybox peeling the anxiety of my mind through the sound of Magical Sound Shower. Until the day I can only remember the drifting piano of Breath of the Wild's biotic world orchestrating its digital stillness, like a God breathing on my shoulder while I move and slide aimlessly like a lost wanderer. Until I can only recall the melody of Demon's Souls' Nexus and the sound my footsteps raise when walking through the water mirror on its center. Until I can only reminisce about Proteus's singing flowers and its island that dances through optics and observation. Maybe that's why we write reviews and want our loves validated or to be seen as something 'higher', 'mightier', something complicated and mystical as the maths that reveal humanity the mysteries of the universe since centuries ago. We want answers we'll never be able to grasp as long as we try to analyze, and to analyze we need to lie in the exterior. We need to watch, study and patronize; we need to put these architectures and spaces into boxes and views of 'critique' and 'deliberacy'. We need to leave its heart and embrace the surfaces of technicality.

Maybe we should try to feel more, see more, hear more, sense more. To be inside those worlds and not inspect them, but love them. Or hate them. Or feel nothing. It'll always depend. But I don't want to pretend that I know anything anymore, I don't want to play jigsaw and piece it all together.

I've always questioned my taste for existing in spaces. In my dreams I'm often attached to the unearthly and chaotic logic that conducts the sights and people that I see in my own mind. I want more than anything to exist in places that can make me feel something about who I am or the people that surround me, I want to belong and to discover. I know that I want to not know, I want mystique; the dialectics of discovery, wonder and impermanence. Maybe that's why my favorite Super Marios are 64 and Galaxy, because I'll never forget how mysterious and dreamy the castle felt on my first way through in 64, expanding unto itself as if it had a life of its own; and I'll never forget how silent and empty the starred void could be in Galaxy, even if I couldn't traverse it --- picturing it through a looking-glass was enough to capture its scale in relation to Mario, its gravity pulling me with ease and swinging me around spheres as I grasped the cosmos' force beyond what I could jump on despite the universe looking so calm. Maybe that's why Danganronpa's claustrophobic and unworldly, exaggerated style of pink blood and flipping cardboard cut-outs resonated with my urge to pull the paper off the stage, exploring and gathering evidence towards nonsensical, absurd truths. It's not that I want to exist in worlds that make me forget I am here, but worlds that remind me how much there truly is in the unseen, between the lines of the material. Those hypnotizing physicalities we conjure of body, mind and soul. If we broke away from all the systems, equations and measuring, who knows what frontiers we could uncover.

An absolutely beautiful game that masterfully taps into an atmosphere of dreamlike childhood nostalgia and one of the best console platformers of the turn of the 2000’s. Napple Tale feels ahead of its time with its hub based, sidequest focused design as you have Porch help everyone around Napple Town and pop back into each season themed platformer levels to look for items and new areas. The platforming is solid enough, though a bit jank at times, and the little animal buddy system is some nice flavor though really I only used the ones that increased your mobility to unlock stuff around the levels. The boss fights are fine too, nothing super memorable, aside from the one where you don’t technically fight an actual boss because that segment is one of the highlights of the game. Don’t know how faithful the fan translation was but what I do know is that it did a great job giving the characters a whole bunch of charm and having some fun goofy names for the characters. Also that Yoko Kanno soundtrack, holy shit. Wild Wind and Folly Fall are among the best video game songs period. It’s a travesty this never left Japan because I guarantee you it would be considered one of the cult classics of the Dreamcast alongside the like of Jet Set, Skies of Arcadia, and Shenmue if it had. A shining star of a classic 3D platformer that desperately deserves more love than it gets.

This review contains spoilers

Somehow default consencus on post heavy rain western adventure games utilizing cinematic presentation is that they are like a movie or a tv show with players ability to shape their own canon of its story.
As of moment of writing this "SILENT HILL: Ascension" came out (kinda) and weaponises this idea to extort audience for money, its "overview trailer" mentions this idea of defining canon as a mantra, as a curse.
But is that really all that choice making and branching narrative can be? Is that all what it was? Answer is no.
Even Heavy Rain as this trendsetter already wasnt just that (and that not even delving in the genre past with games like Chunsoft's Kamaitachi no Yoru), the game used interactivity and idea of choice and its consequences even existing to create connection between players and character, to make player feel what those characters feel in any given moment thru interactivity.

Twin Mirror interconnects idea of choice and its consequences with heavy gamification to create a thematic narrative where neither route is treated as right or wrong.
The game main conflict can be neatly summed up by the fact that while investigating murder mystery player has a timed choice to either listen to characters rant about their circumstances or coldly cut them off to get to the point of asking your mystery solving questions. Its a conflict between empathy and truth.
Back in the day main character was a reporter who wrote an article that uncovered certain wrongdoings, and while it was morally good thing, it lead to the town main source of income to shut down. Despite doing something good consequences of doing so lead to something bad, so its understandable why hero who exposed the evil himself got treated like even worse evil.
Even before the game started ambiguity gets established, doing the right thing may not always be the right thing to do given circumstances, or at least not for everyone.

Years later main character returns to the town that mostly hates him due to his close friend passing. As fate or more so murder mystery narrative contrivice would have it said death wasnt under the normal circumstances and was most definitely not an accident. This idea is proposed if not forced onto MC by the first character he meets - a victim's daughter. While its easy to consider that she is coping from her father passing, she is in fact correct.

The game separates its more gamey gameplay sections away from the "reality" where player walks in standart third person controls and "clicks" on NPCs to initiate dialogue or on objects to initiate MC comments (and i find those comments to be strong parts of dontnod games) - into different realities with different presentations.

While i find presentation of investigation to be kinda banal cyberspace reconstruction of crime with not super imaginative gameplay of "choose right options to complete how sequence did play out", stuff like handling panic attack as running thru the black void attacked by a doors with typography of negative thought with player needing to find the doors with positive thoughts while on the run to calm down MC i found pretty creative.

There is however also intrusion of this artificial into the reality where MC just talks with people - his imaginary friend, who gives tips on how to handle any given situation and how to proceed with dialogue. The game very briefly tries to explain his existence as "MC was anti social as a child, so he created this persona to be his friend", which i dont think was handled particulary well, but at least its thematically coherent that he pushes MC to be more empathetic person and consider other people as people, and not just NPCs to give testimonies about murder mystery.

Something brilliant the game does with him is that it has 2 scenes back to back of MC trying to help 2 different characters to calm down.
In the first case you have 3 choices and 4th one to ask him which one of the 3 is correct one, its not even a tip, he will tell you and it will be the best option. However it seems to be limited in terms of how much it could have been used during this dialogue, honestly makes me wish they would incorporate this thru out the whole game as more consistent system instead of him just being there as non interactive thing in a dialogue. However that in itself show MC opening up to him, and not just getting suggestions passivly, but actively seeking them.
In the second scene MC meets victims daughter again, and his imaginary supported proceeds to tell him what to say even before dialogue option appears. If player chooses to follow the advice, it will be "wrong choice" that will upset her, after which his imaginary advices resigns in defeat saying that MC knows better how to handle her. It conditions player to follow advice only to present it as unreliable immedietly after.

Game's major choices are framed with portraits of MC and his empathy Watson. If one repressents consideration of others and trust, then another repressents cold rationality and distrust for the sake of finding truth.
However its not as clear cut as we can see, victims daughter doesnt want empty consideration towards her, she wants honestly - even if it means cold hard truth.
We can see this both as her being more accepting of this side of MC, his "detective" side, but we can also see childish naivity about "truth over everything" - where MC is just inconsiderate in his pursuit of truth, she is just innocent and doesnt yet realise how complex the world is and how truth can hurt, even herself. In fact revealing the full truth to her would leave her to become disillusioned with her father, however said truth wont be discovered until the very end of the game after the curprint would get "justiced".

Late into the game player gets biggest choice yet between detective side and empathetic human side - basically a choice between 2 gameplay system which will define which one MC will use in the finale to confront the curpint.
If player choses detective side, then upon returning to reality for a short period of time MC sees a person with him as this cyberspace voxel thing the same way people are presented in his virtual simulation when he does his investigation thing - very cool way to showcase how detached MC became and how he treats others as NPC in his mystery game.
In fact most magical virtual cyberspace investigation simulation thing (of which there arent that many admitedly) do a nice job of depicting idea of seeking truth as something destructive.
Very first one is about MC remembering how he had a fist fight with a dude while being drunk a night before, and the last one before above mentioned above is about MC creating a diversion to get past guards by setting something another person had created by hand on fire - MC literally destroys something valuable to another person to get the truth, he comes like a force of nature to a group of people who were hurt the most by the article he wrote years ago and hurts them some more.
Don't get it wrong, its not just simply a bad thing, it not like letting murdered being on the loose would be a better choice, it's not like not getting some form of justice for those who had died would be a better choice.

At the end if player had chosen detective side then MC confronts the murder ignoring why did this person became like this in the first place - its just a culprit, someone to be brought to justice.
Narrative itself was kinda banal "someone was killed while uncovering dirty secrets" and the game short length really make events feel like they just happen quickly for the sake of this murder mystery farce to unfold and conclude, however gameplay serving as both tool of storytelling and element of presentation really elevate it for me to become something memorable even if individual elements arent particulary strong.

However with epiloge i feel like it becomes more interesting.
With everything seemingly concluded and everyone getting some form of closure MC has to leave the city once again.
And it doesnt just cut to cutscene, player has to manually make MC leave the way he came from - the game UI even makes it a mission, it just says "leave". And while leaving you will actually meet another character who makes a sudden appearance and that then MC will realise something again, after everything was seemingly over - he met a mastermind behind everything that happened. A mastermind he has ability to put confront legally.
However said mastermind only came to the town because of the article MC had wrote years ago, because town came to a downfall as result of this article being published. It can be argued that MC is as guilty in events that happened as actual people who have blood on their hands. Well mastermind kinda doesnt have blood on his hands and nor does MC, so...
They may had different intends, but consequences are similiar. They had enabled each other existence and to do what they do - detective need criminals to do crimes to apprehend them after all. In the void created by evil being purged worse evil can come to take its place, but does it mean we have to just accept it in fear of that happening? What if this evil supports the economy and society, feeds normal innocent people? Do we have to strive to what just if it means hurting
The game doesnt present a good or bad solution, both are ambigious. The game has one last choice, MC can retain this status quo build on dirty money or he can take it down even if means potentially making people lives worse again like he did years ago.
Whichever player chooses, nor the player nor the MC will see those people regardless. We have no choice but to run away from consequences of our actions, either in another town or into the credits roll and uninstalling the game.







Within the game's gorgeous open zones, windows of interaction with different manners of moving through the maps (using a stream of wind to get up a platform, using a fire skill to burn down vines, etc.) are often gatekept by a varied set of abilities acquired by leveling up certain attributes in favour of specific openings in the game's Affinity trees (which are unique for each Blade) --- the so called field skills are only but one of the many variables that rule how Blades you bond with will interact with traversal, combat and overall progression through the game. There is a notable contrast between the sprawling, natural and detailed zones of the setting and the slippery, awkward character movimentation through these same panoramas filled with markers and cluttering UI identifiers; an incongruity between the maximalist, megalomaniac numerical obsession of the matters in which players connect and interact with that virtual world, and the often terrain-based combat/navigation that constantly demands that you look around and look for gaps between the pixelated topography, to check if there's an unrelated enemy around who could aggro you and interrupt your chain of orbs, to topple a flying enemy and make it fall down after you make it to higher ground, to use rails, rocks or other common environment assets to cheese your way through battles by gaining distance from the enemy's aggroing and auto-attacking with a bitball or a cannon while their path is blocked by said asset, to make use of the game's many position-based Arts: these strategies are not exceptions, but constant thoughts and visualizations I had through the game's many, many encounters.

This friction between the 'artificial' and the 'pulsing', the 'constant' and the 'drifting', is what builds this game's main dialectics: in this made-up world of flamboyant designs destined to be made fun of or utilized for their visual and questionable appeal, of series of integers and technical rigidness bounding the player to a progression based on variables and array-based requirements, how do we achieve genuine connection between constructs that seem to attract inherent unseriousness and confusion? How do we break down the walls of 'artifices' between the player and the game? The answer could only be one: Rex, and his Salvager Code.

The panache and naivete of juvenile optimism, the shonen-esque confidence in all that exists and the resolve to make people smile. Within the bounds of its own artificiality and the signifiers used to construct its experience, Xenoblade Chronicles 2 somehow manages to weave a convincing force of sincerity through a world that is conducted by the forces of constants, arrays, dipping frames and uncertain dynamic resolution --- all of that which cannot be organically touched or interacted with, ends up crossing the walls of mechanicality unexplainably by the end of it all, finding expression and meaning in the most unexpected places. A boy and a girl make a promise to reach Paradise; the boy complies without knowing why, not even because of the fact she saved his life right beforehand --- for giving his life for a stranger is simply his spirit. A girl who fears her own power, shutting herself off for unspecified milennia; a boy who finds treasures in junk for a living, salvaging meaning and memories out of seamless clouds. In the friendship between Rex and Pneuma lies the game's final and most important dichotomy, the impossibility between eternity and remembrance, the way in which our selves are tied to our egos which are formed by the promises we make to each other, how one would rather die than be forgotten by the one they love and keep on going for infinity. Theirs is a relationship of light: uncertainness about oneself's purpose breed spontaneity and trust in that which shines the way forward. Shin had Metsu, Hana had Hikari; within the endless streams of lights we project when we break down the walls of artifices between us, we find identity and purpose.

In each of the game's varied landscapes, one sight tends to repeat itself: the view of Alrest's enormous World Tree, the promised spot that gives access to Paradise and God, peering at his creations above the sea of white. To find that these organic leaves sprouting from its head and that the wooden exterior of its large shell house a high-tech facility full of elevators and robot guards only intensifies the images that Alrest creates through gameplay: an ocean hiding before humanity's ruins in Morytha, the vistas of the clouds forming different shapes and patterns within the perspectives of each character, numerical catharsis and exploitation of the artifices as a means of visualizing the act of bonding and the struggle of moving forward by your own means. Connecting Arts and auto-attacks indefinitely, building up elemental spheres and breaking them with the collective power of strategized synchrony; the endless QTEs building up in the screen demanding timing and linking in this fascinating real-time turn-based system.

"I love this world because you're in it."


It's the Mario game that most understands the character's status as the ultimate video game icon. The structure is simple and has been repeated since 1985, but the decision to transform Mario's "world to world" visits into a trip around the globe (with a tour guide) is brilliant.

While I was playing Super Mario Odyssey I couldn't stop thinking about how it's a game similar to One Piece (it'll make sense, I promise). Firstly because: it's a lot about recognizing that the strong feelings you have while playing come much more through the journey than through any conclusion that may exist (and One Piece may end someday, but Mario never will).

Secondly, because like the Gear 5 transformation, it's a game almost entirely about the malleability of Mario's body, how he reacts to the environment, and vice versa. One of the best feelings you can have playing Super Mario Odyssey is catching one of the many Moons and thinking "was it supposed to be done like that?". It doesn't matter how you arrived at the goal, it matters how you played with the geometry of the levels and Mario's moveset.

It's bizarre to write so many words about the thematic importance of a Mario game, but the fact is that this game is very concise and rounded in what it wants to discuss about the character. It's a celebratory game about recognizing Mario's place in the global media canon, and in doing so it needs to recognize the most primal aspect of the character: he's an actor, a jack of all trades; He's a plumber, a kart driver, a tennis player, a doctor, he's Mario.

In this game, Mario is Bullet Bill, Goomba, Hammer Bro, Yoshi... Mario is whoever he needs to be when the situation demands his messianic presence. At first glance, the mechanics of transforming the game into 2D (several times) may seem out of place, but it is building precisely towards this point of adaptability of the figure of Mario.

Mario saved video games with Super Mario Bros., of course, but Mario is also Jump Man; his first appearance is not even in his own game, it is in the Donkey Kong franchise. How could THE video game icon, who was born in a franchise that is not his own, not take the freedom to visit any place? to transform into whoever he wants?

Super Mario Odyssey is a manifesto about freedom, it's a game full of expression and charisma in every corner, it's there to remind you to always be or do what you want. The game ending on the Moon is especially symbolic, because if for human beings visiting it was a moment of great evolution and celebration, for Mario it is another Monday. But it's another Monday that he can only have thanks to having grown up and matured with humanity. Mario has already had two games exploring planets, but the Moon's ambition is palpable; after 32 years Mario was finally able to see planet Earth from there. It's time to realize how great his achievements are, how many people he reached over during his journey.

"Thank you, Mario. It's been an honor walking a mile on your head".

One of few games that manages to overcome any cynicism and let you simply indulge in its entirety. It may not be perfect or anything, but Napple Tale doesn't have to be. Purity is something that our mean-spirited industry can only use more of, so I think a few more of these couldn't hurt. It says something that on a console defined by ambitious genre-defying gems, this relatively basic little 3D platformer manages to stick out in the way it does.

When you play a game like this, the part of your brain that let's you rationalize what you just played goes off. Instead, all you can think about is how wonderful the experience was. Even if you can't make out the details, you'll always remember how it made you feel. Almost like a forgotten dream, floating in the wind...

MGS4 decimated all the symbols and mannerisms of the franchise, until there was nothing left to enjoy. Phantom Pain exists in a completely irrelevant space, it is a game that has no "story to tell", because all the stories are already established.

More post-modern than MGS2, it serves to prove that Metal Gear never had a "fourth wall" and canonize the player as a in-universe character. We are a phantom that repeats the steps of the legend, but we are the legend. Venom Snake doesn't take more actions than the player would, because he does what Big Boss would do... and the player has already been Big Boss -twice-.

You are Venom, Venom is Big Boss, Big Boss is Snake, Snake was Solid Snake and Raiden. Choose who you want to be today, choose the game you want to play. Let it die but with hope for the future.