There’s a rare, beautiful harmony between how you play Gorogoa, how it tells its story, and the lesson it seems to be imparting.
Mafia III's biggest problem, then, is that the stuff you actually do as Lincoln is mind-numbingly repetitive. He and his associates have put together a rigid strategy for taking down their enemies. You drive from point to point killing mooks and destroying property, then go back to a place you've already been to kill a more powerful mook, and when you do that enough, you're rewarded with a mission to kill an even more powerful mook in a unique environment, like a dilapidated racist theme park. These set pieces are a merciful break in the monotony, but they're rare and all devolve into the same run-and-gun festivities.
Familiarity breeds disappointment and delight in Dark Souls III
The Last Guardian demands patience, but even it seems tired of waiting
In 2015, and with no mind digitization in sight, the questions Soma raises are difficult to answer without dreadful introspection.
In large doses, all that fighting can be tiresome, but the best thing about Fallout 4 is that it wants you to have something to fight for—more than just a vendetta, or some life-saving MacGuffin, or the player's own bloodthirsty whims. Grizzled, score-settling lone wanderers will feel at home in The Commonwealth, but this world offers something more: a chance to rebuild, to belong to something bigger than yourself and defend it from all comers. The most you can usually hope for is "This place isn't so bad, for a shithole," but at least it's your shithole.
That's part of the beauty of Woolly World, though. It's only as difficult as you want it to be. If you can't figure out how to get that bundle of magenta yarn tucked away behind a towering water monster, you can just forget about it and move on.
[Y]ou'll probably never kick the stumbling habit entirely, which is fine, because you're always liable to stumble into something beautiful.
That goofiness belies what is ultimately a showcase for Capybara's serious game design chops.
[I]t's a confirmation of what Smash Bros. has been all along: a raucous, reverent celebration of Nintendo games and the people who play them. And the best part is everyone's invited.
This is a bigger, bolder Peggle, but it's the little musical details that end up making the difference.
Yharnam is not some obstacle course waiting to be exploited for a cheap thrill. It's alive and well aware of its allure. That cure we all seek is in there somewhere, but this city isn't going to give it up without a fight.
The upsells are just a thin layer of corporate monetization atop a mountain of sincerity, love, and dismemberment.