No intro sentences. I'm just miffed.

The whole plot in Uncharted 3 feels so damn contrived. Nothing flows together well, shit just kinda happens and you're expected to just accept it. Well, guess what Uncharted 3? I feel completely detached from everything happening in front of me. The setpieces may be some of the most over-the-top ones I've ever experienced, but it doesn't complement the story or pacing. Why is Chloe back after the events of Uncharted 2? Who is Charlie and why should I care about him? I think there's supposed to be a plot thread about Sullivan adopting and raising Drake, but it's only addressed at the very beginning and the very end. What the hell happened here?

Drake is so unlikeable in this title that I really don't care about him by the time he's literally dying in a desert. It's like watching your hero live long enough to lose his way, except I never liked Drake enough in the first place to care. Everyone that Drake drags into his selfish escapade has the same questions to ask: "Why are you doing this? Is it worth risking your life? You can stop at any time, you know?" The villains are somehow worse than Drake, at least he leaves an impact on you. The Queen of England and her henchman (whose name I already forgor) need Drake's Ring so they can decipher the location of Sand Atlantis, because reasons! Reasons you're never told!

The previous two games had an acceptable level of polish, but this entry feels particularly sloppy for some reason. I wonder if Bluepoint Games's "remaster" running at 60 FPS is at fault here. Regardless, cover mechanics felt a lot less reliable, platforming occasionally failed me for no discernible reason, the camera clipped through walls on a few occasions, and other various oddities. Outside of that, the combat in this game just feels baaaaaaad. Combat segments are so frequent and tiresome, and it feels like I am always in a do-or-die situation, no time to breathe until the encounter itself is over. You could tell me that the combat arenas themselves were just borrowed from the multiplayer mode, and I would believe you in a heartbeat. It all feels very inorganic. We've also got a new enemy type, brutes, and boy do I hate them. It's not because they're difficult, no, it's because they're just a boring melee QTE damage sponge. And to add insult to injury, the final boss of this game is effectively just another brute!

I apologize for calling Uncharted 1 "unsharted", I should've saved that title for this one. Uncharted 3 is arguably the better game in terms of spectacle and gameplay, but I would be lying if I said this game had a coherent plot to follow. It's a passable game, but boy is it forgettable.

Innovative but also toothless as it relies on smug meta-commentary to get across its theme of the malleability of bodies in the video game medium. Something that is bound to date itself real quick as this angle is one of the most overplayed ideas in games. Its central gimmick becomes tired by game's end BUT makes for some really effective moments of genuinely badass excitement. Cannot deny its a very well crafted experience with an eye for acute visual detail and sound design. The best kind of minimalism, as it strips down FPS tropes down to its minute essence. Can't say I loved it but I admire what it does and I see great things for the studio with whatever they have coming next.

I would like to apologize to Fallout New Vegas. I have 499 hours sunk into this game over the course of several years. I bought it when I was a teenager and played it all the way to Uni and beyond.

And yet, after all those almost 500 hours of play I cannot go back to it, every attempt petering out shortly thereafter from the realization that I have seen it all, experienced every nuance and perspective from a game that only wished to enrich my life through its myriad of systems, characters and masterful roleplaying design. "He wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer".

This is not meant to be an insult to FNV, far from it. I am not the kind of ridiculous child that gets made fun of on social media for giving a low score to a game cause "after doing the main campaign and the sidequests and achievements etc there's nothing to do! unfinished game". Quite the opposite. I apologize because in playing FNV so many times from so many angles and perspectives, uncovering every single layer of a legendarily dense game I have stripped it away like a hunter salvaging every organ and resource from a deer.

Its darkly ironic that the very same process which has allowed me to fully appreciate just how diverging, rich and wonderfully replayable this modern classic in RPG design is exactly why I can never go back to it. FNV is to me now like a fully solved problem, a series of understood systems, of known interactions and characters which are transparent in their every function. In short its completely stripped of the illusion of being a world, of being on an adventure with real people with goals and hopes and dreams and fears.

This maybe comes off as overblown and for sure, its no great tragedy, all good things come to an end and FNV has given me more than is reasonable to my life, but after going to back to revisit and old favourite and being unable to enjoy any of it, I felt a profound sadness. I think completionism is bad in general, and semi relatedly FNVs spiritual successor The Outer Worlds feels very much designed to court the enjoyment of completionists and is worse for it. This is perhaps why for how much it frustrates me I still come back to Commonplace, a game concept founded entirely on contempt for the very urge of completionism, of allowing all of its secrets to be revealed (even if in practice they can all be found out with enough time and effort but still).

I could have pulled away at 50 hours, at 100, at 200 and still allowed New Vegas to exist on its own terms, but I didnt. And for that I am deeply sorry.

this community deserves a better class of 'cult classic'. this game's hare-brained commitment to pastiche, if it can even be called homage, is as tedious as its combat. there's a crude smugness underlining much of this that tries to lighten its self-deprecating nature and vindicate the nonsensical and confused narrative that increasingly put a bad taste in my mouth. to what end does any of this serve? a game whose central concept invites boundless ideas and yet is frequently constrained by rules and thematic barriers. its lovingly rendered environments and eccentric set-pieces ultimately do little to excuse the 2010s-isms that stink up its identity. i can understand its lasting appeal and at points I found its overtly deliberate camp charming but after the hundredth flying refrigerator, thousandth needless fail state, the millionth shootout, and the trillionth Twin Peaks reference, I tapped out.

Leon’s lucid nightmare; weaving between masculine power fantasies and crippling, anxious impotence. Is he man enough? I imagine this almost condescendingly patriotic narrative playing out entirely within Leon’s mind. Tilting at windmills and all. While all of these games seem to exist within the confines of nonsensical dream logic, I feel as though this entry’s explicit and almost meta riff on Hollywood action movie cliches and post-9/11 sociopolitical imagery (such as the abandoned prison towards the end eerily resembling the blood stained interiors of Ahu Ghraib) is a bit pointed at Leon’s overall characterization within this franchise. It makes for a fascinating read of the game though it’s not the central draw as to why this is an utter masterpiece; only supplemental layers to an already perfect experience. As a whole, Resident Evil IV feels like a magnum opus of sorts and for its time, a groundbreaking stylistic experiment at that. Aggressively indulgent and visceral to the point of exhaustion but it’s probably the best I’ve ever felt drained from a game. I found myself, just as I did the first time I played this a few years ago, holding my breath for much of my time with Resident Evil IV. Throat dry, hands clammy with building sweat as encroaching hordes near and grotesque creatures pierce the crushing silence with screeches and ghostly whispers while the abrupt pounding soundtrack overlays the background with agitating ferocity. It just rips on a purely sensual level. Front to back, it’s amazing for something that took me just over fourteen hours to complete the amount of iconic moments, set pieces, locations and dialogue that fill up that time consecutively. It never stops. The sheer and constant intensity is part of the deal and I was shocked by how many surprises were kept intact despite being a return visit. Playing this is the equivalent of watching peak Hollywood blockbuster filmmaking and yet it surpasses some of the greatest action films with its emphasis on horrific thrills and fist pumping excitement. Resident Evil IV’s massive success comes with its endlessly confident technical mastery and immaculate polish in its craft at every corner and the complete auteurist control over pacing and tone. Very few games have such alarming preciseness over each and every element like this while feeling completely organic and without pretension. It is first and foremost a claustrophobic shooter and takes great lengths in ensuring it satisfies the player, making no excuses for its inherent silliness and illogical storyline. I don’t know why I ever doubted this over time since my last playthrough. This may not be my favorite RE title but it’s the one that defines Mikami’s legacy as a video game auteur.

Few people in this industry (or any industry, mind you), are so commited to constructing so complicated narrative paths and rythms, in order to tell the most naive and sincere emotions about human connection.

Won't ever understand those who insist on labelling Kojima as a frustrated filmmaker who turned to videogames and doesn't care about the gameplay. He has proven himself time and time again on both fronts, and Death Stranding's gameplay is inseparable to his aspirations with the game as a whole. Incisive, complex and reaching for new grounds.

The final credits come to an end, with the names of the other porters that have aided you on your journey. There's so much stuff you've built together without realizing.

thinking about how hard it is sometimes to convince people that certain movies - especially blockbusters - are, in fact, actually high art. like Mad Max: Fury Road, or Titanic. people are so conditioned to view certain genres through particular critical lenses. i run into a lot of people whose "movie of the year" has to be something pristine and traditionally dramatic. there's a similiar phenomenon with pop music. of course, with pop music it's often more a sort of friction that comes from mn who views themselves as macho trying to consider what enjoying music that's typically deemed feminine means. i'll see guys admit they like Carly Rae Jepsen's "Call Me Maybe" but only by first allowing it "guilty pleasure" status.

not that blockbuster movies or pop music don't receive their fair dues. Titanic was the highest grossing movie of all time for a while and won like 11 oscars. Taylor Swift dominates the Grammy awards and is maybe the most popular recording artist in the world right now. but often what's "popular" isn't what's considered cool or critically lauded. it's easy to dismiss what's popular as shallow. and sometimes that's absolutely true, some popular things are shallow (see: the MCU or the music of Ed Sheeran). sometimes what's actually popular tho is genuine spectacle.

i think of the Uncharted games in these terms - as the definitive 'pop games'. they basically exist to ship playstation consoles so just about anyone with a ps3 or ps4 has played an Uncharted game. they also review extremely well. uncharted 2, in particular, won a ton of (relatively meaningless) GOTY awards and is the third highest reviewed ps3 game on Metacritic (for what little that's worth). but at the same time, i always get the feeling these games are considered lame by the cool crowd. or even by their own fans. uncharted 2 is lauded, sure, but i rarely see people exalting the blockbuster virtues of Uncharted 3 even though it's like the exact same game (it just can't compete in the shadow of Uncharted 2's train set piece - a stunt that burrowed into gaming folklore first).

after replaying all three mainline Uncharted sequels this year, I can't help but feel the series 1) remains somewhat underrated and 2) get better as it goes. sure, uncharted 4 hinges somewhat on the foundation (and your familiarity with) the ps3 trilogy, but i don't think you need to have strong emotional ties to Nathan and Elena's relationship to appreciate the best A Thief's End has to offer - which is balls-to-the-walls action and the best blockbuster setpieces this side of Hollywood (or Bollywood). if this were a movie, I'd enjoy it no less than I enjoy Fury Road or the recent Mission: Impossible movies or Casino Royale or the work of Steven Spielberg. which at the end of the day is what Uncharted wants to be. it wants to be interactive Indiana Jones. it wants to be James Bond. it wants to be a Michael Bay walking simulator. and the game absolutely is that.

i read an article on Vice from former games critic Ed Smith, written around the release of Uncharted 4, and using a Nathan Drake thumbnail, about how games can't truly be cinematic. the main thrust of this argument was how crucial editing is to the essence of cinema and how games can't -- or certainly "cinematic" AAA games (like Uncharted) don't -- use editing techniques in gameplay. and i think i agree and calling games like Uncharted 4 cinematic would be a bit silly. but i don't think they have to be cinematic to be blockbusters. and i think the Uncharted series has completely nailed the gaming blockbuster formula. it's a bit of a narrow, somewhat linear formula. it consists primarily of light platforming, some shooting, some waking and talking sections and occasionally a puzzle. but that's honestly all i want out of a game. i love an on the rails action. when it works, the way it works in Uncharted 4, where you're jumping off falling buildings or being dragged behind a jeep through the mud while simultaneously shooting other vehicles, I feel more alive and exhilarated than I do bashing a wave of enemies with a sword or exploring some random empty rooms farming for resources.

...

random notes.

uncharted 4 is one of the most striking games i've ever played. a level of detail fidelity almost unmatched. pouring one out for the devs who crunched themselves into retirement making this (weird thing to say, idk)

i went into this with the original Amy Hennig pan for the game in my head - a game where Nathan's long lost brother would be an antagonist and the game would counter its ludonarrative dissonance criticisms by taking a gun away from Nathan for half the game. as much as i'd love to see Uncharted actually tackle and interrogate what Nathan's violence actually means instead of rewarding you a with a Ludonarrative Dissonance trophy for killing 1,000 enemies, i think this is the first game in the series to really limit your gunplay. there a lot more slower, walking and talking sections here. some uneventful driving sections. maybe 1/3rd of the game you don't actually shoot anyone. it's a step in the right direction. i kind of view those criticisms though as moot when so much of the game's fiction is steeped in hollywood tradition. it feels weird to criticise nathan drake for killing 100 goons when i don't criticise john wick or any harrison ford character for doing the same. and yes it's because nathan is a loveable rogue but, eh, i kind of come out of my replay of this series, with this questions in my mind, thinking it ultimately doesn't matter even if i wish they could do a better job at addressing in general.

i also appreciate Sam Drake's conceptualisation as the assohle loser brother more than the evil vengeful type too. he's a deadbeat loser, he's nathan if he didn't have an Elena.

pure pulpy tony scott inspired acid wash neon noir nonsense.

there's some stuff in here about addiction, alcoholism, american imperialism, toxic masculinity. mostly it's just surface level padding that makes the game seem more mature between the parts where you go pew pew.

and boy, do you go pew pew in this game. pew pew to the max.

flying majestically john woolike through the air dual wielding a mix-matched load out of an uzi and a revolver while controlling a sorry old american drunk really made me say out loud "this is some dope ass shit."

i also don't think i've played a game with an old white man action hero who went through so many different outfit changes and haircuts over the course of one linear game. it really added to my enjoyment. watching max wallow in self pity between action set pieces i couldn't help but feel "yeah this dude is flawed but look at that head of hair, what a cool dude". and then he shaved it and i thought "oh no" but also "this level of self-loathing is relatable."

anyway. cool game. flawed. but the flaws add a level of personality that a lot of AAA games are simply missing in their attempts to be immaculate works of art (which to me hete is a symptom of being inspired by tony scott and not alejandro gonzalez inarritu)

The manipulative nature of the narrative and how it's told is entirely the point. Legacy as a manufactured curse. The player explores a symbolic mausoleum dedicated to the grief felt over generations, weaponized to induce and propagate the cycle of mental illness and the futility of that struggle. It's uncompromisingly pernicious, containing laser focus and wonderfully composed sequences of death played out through the lens of magical realism. I adore it for its relaxing if off-putting features even if it reeks with the stench of utter defeatism.