Replayed this to see if I could distance myself from the immediate kneejerk hatred it inspired in me at launch, and possibly give this game a fair shake. With the hype and nostalgia out of the way —yeah, it’s still pretty mediocre.

This game’s worst crime isn’t any particular graphics or gameplay deficiency, it’s that this game is soulless and has no love for its own premise. It is dead and joyless game at a spiritual level.

The Mass Effect trilogy is the single most resounding example of a game utterly dedicated and consumed by its premise and world, to a staggering effect that remains unmatched over a decade later. And yet, playing Andromeda, I’ve encountered few AAA games that seem to have been made with such apathy and disinterest.

The spirit of adventure it invokes in this journey to a new galaxy is immediately and brutally crushed by how remarkably soulless and vacant the world and characters of Andromeda actually are. For all its individual flaws and merits, this game is spiritually repugnant in a manner that renders it even worse than the sum of its poorly made parts. It’s a foundational sin that is both unpatchable and unforgivable.

"It subverts expectations" is a kind of damning praise, but in a world where "competency porn" is ostensibly an admirable genre, Rockstar have crafted a masterclass in "incompetency porn." Beloved gaming icon Max Payne returns, now as a washed-up, drunken mess who embarks on an epic journey of redemption that he fucks up every step of the way through belligerent stupidity.

Max's darkest moment sees him quitting alcohol, only for the game to end with him walking into the sunset with a beer in his hand. A beautifully grotesque game made with the kind of thoughtful self-hatred only Rockstar is capable of.

After Y2K the end of the world had become a cliché. But who was I to talk, a brooding underdog avenger alone against an empire of evil, out to right a grave injustice? Everything was subjective. There were only personal apocalypses. Nothing is a cliché when it's happening to you.“

Gloriously pulpy, stylistic and violent, Max Payne feels every bit as (stylistically) cutting edge in 2024 as it did the first time I played it. Dialogue is deliciously overwrought, environments are delightfully drenched in atmosphere: everything in this game sells itself 105%. Every inch of this game is unabashedly cool as hell.

It's Twin Peaks: The Return meets True Detective. It's not a rare achievement in videogame storytelling to emulate great TV or film. But where lesser games are content to ape the stylistic trappings of their inspiration, Alan Wake II delivers something far more interesting.

Much in the same way great TV and film seeks to warp and break the confines of "what can be delivered via a screen," to deliver true art, Remedy really pushes the boundary of what can be accomplished by a videogame. This is the most nauseatingly mind-breaking thing I've experiences through a screen since Twin Peaks: The Return for the sole reason that it gets why the show is so effective, and replicates that rather than the material substance of the show itself.

Remedy understand the spirit of making art, rather than just appearing "artistic." I hope Alan Wake II teaches other devs the difference.