There's nothing new I can say about the plot, but the craft that sells it is an interesting example of the 2010 era visuals. Along the gradient of rendering sophistication, New Vegas lands somewhere near the end of where its stiff NPC animations are passable before their fidelity fully exceeds their believability - where the eye can pass over an empty corner instead of suspecting props or shadows are missing. It can be damn ugly, but I think the handmade mid-fidelity look generally creates a better picture than Fallout 4 or BG3.

I suppose my takeaway is that I don't think super mutants and giant scorpions ever needed dozens of man-hours to be put to screen, only enough to sell what they mean at scale. New Vegas accidentally nails this, laying equal parts good writing over cheap, humble, and charismatic art that sits well with itself - a rare and impenetrable ratio.

I received this game for christmas when I was 12, and I believe my initial impression was that it was somehow beneath the use of my 12-year-old time.

Besides playing it that night in my guest bedroom at my grandmother's, my only other memory is fighting the final boss at my friend's place when he was playing Assassin's Creed II. There was a vague and compelling sense of surprise that I was actually far enough to see the final boss, despite my lack of investment. Did I finish it that day? What even happened in the story? What are the vague recollections of pot icons and healing actions in my mind that I can't quite conjure or find on google?

Somehow this game became part of me, at one of the very lowest, faintest levels, and I can't quite fully recover it. For a 40 hour rpg, that sure is unique.

Around the middle portion, Celeste take time to render anxiety with uncomfortably raw characterization, throwing every twee narrative game trick to enhance the beat: a gamified breathing mini-game, angry dialogue letters, boundary-breaking character portraits, and a soundtrack by someone who clearly understands the headspace. That this presentation is both unbearably corny and nonetheless effective about sums up my thoughts.

But in 2018 I was frustrated that it could both do this and then turn around and deliver a brutal final stretch of just being a videogame. Coming back to the game now, some months following my own anxiety diagnosis and the pits of my mental health, I find this all even more confusing.

It hits deeper now. Seeing someone whimper at their own brain and yet find peace in breathing brings me to tears. But its contentedness to be a platformer drains all the catharsis of the final sprint. The last chapter is as sharp and brittle as glass, genuinely torturous, even with assist mode. I feel utterly alienated at the end when they had me so close.

I guess in conclusion, Celeste just doesn't know when to quit. It feels made by real platformer-heads, the kind of gamers who would make the emotional resolution say "level up". They set the dial too high and then left it there, each stage ending with a few more agonizing screens than it needs; and while sometimes that energy is genuine and something to fuck with, it just flattens the piece. A puzzle game with a biological gate on it.

Still working through this. Currently several hours after beating the Hydra.

The game has some sauce but it's extremely sparse. I spent hours just fusing demons together and it killed my momentum, and wasn't as fun as just convincing them on board, so it ends up feeling like trimmable fat. The battle system and longer loops are very smart and engaging.

Angels and Devils fighting to uphold or annihilate existing order... trite, but what's this? A Buddhist character? Perhaps Samsara can be broken.

It's intelligent and spiritual. The biological snippets of each creature, their ecological place... it's all very good and heartfelt, as with the spirit telling the story. It's just too corny, too timid, the story too direct and exposition-filled.

I'm not quite sure what's wrong. It's not lacking in confidence, but in asking me if I want to turn off mechanics frequently, it feels uncommitted. Would children like this? It just doesn't work for me. Maybe I just don't like platformers, or tetris.