If I have any advice to give about Avowed, it would be to have patience. It does not start off great. I don’t know if I would have gotten that deep into it if this wasn’t my job. Eventually, though, Obsidian’s voice arrives with a shout, reminding us that this game comes from a studio with a track record of smart, funny, interesting games. Avowed gets there: it just takes longer than it should.
Catalyst introduces significant structural and design differences that don't fit with what made Mirror's Edge so special. Those decisions turn a tight, streamlined thrill ride into an overstuffed and undercooked bummer of a reboot. If another Mirror's Edge comes our way eight years from now, hopefully its designers will look back to the original game for inspiration and avoid the urge to fill it full of videogame clutter.
So maybe life isn't strange, but at least the game tries.
If you’re somebody who was never able to attend any of the in-person tournaments Nintendo has held over the decades, you might’ve been excited for this home version. Sadly it just doesn’t add up, due to the same reluctance over online play that Nintendo has shown for three console generations now. The lack of leaderboards and a true online system makes Nintendo World Championships a uniquely pointless game, and something that can’t keep my interest past the length of a pop song. If Nintendo ever gets serious about what they’re seemingly trying to do here, perhaps there can be a future for Nintendo World Championships, whether it’s an update of NES Edition or one based on another of Nintendo’s classic consoles. Until then, it’s one of the most misguided games I’ve ever played.
There's a new Far Cry out. There's always a new Far Cry out. Maybe it's time for that to stop?
Panzer Dragoon: Remake barely makes an concessions to how games have grown over the last 25 years, and that makes it hard to care about it. The superior sequel will be getting a remake next year; this might be one of those situations where the first game in a series can easily be skipped over in the hagiography. Even the biggest members of the Dragoon Squad can sit this one out.
Playing Starfield makes me want to play games that explore space and games that were made by Bethesda, but it doesn’t make me want to play Starfield. It tries to give us the universe, but it’s so weighed down by its own ambitions and a fundamental lack of inspiration that it can’t even get into orbit.
For most of its duration, Senua’s Saga is undone by its own admirable precepts. It’s too enamored with its central conceit of letting us hear the voices in Senua’s head, too concerned with being serious and sober, too in love with the barbaric world it’s trying to create and the relentlessly grim story it’s trying to tell to work as a worthwhile piece of entertainment. I really hate to say that, because Ninja Theory’s dedication to their vision is laudable, especially in an industry full of cookie cutter sequels and generic retreads focused on hitting the broadest possible audience. Senua’s Saga: Hellblade II deserves respect, but it doesn’t necessarily deserve to be played.
The story that should compel us to keep playing instead becomes an annoying digression from what the game does well. These environments, those puzzles, and the size-changing gimmick that lets you solve them comprise a unique and fascinating vision that depends on the kind of esoteric thinking familiar from classic point-and-click adventure games. Instead of pulling us in deeper, though, Michael and Kenzie's romance pushes us away. That's the real tragedy of Maquette.
If Bugsnax wants us to seriously question our relationship to animals, our food sources, and nature itself, it probably shouldn't turn its equivalent to our livestock into run-of-the-mill videogame bad guys who need to be killed. It shouldn't portray these characters' escape as success. It'd be a far bleaker and more depressing game than anybody ever would've expected from that first trailer if the Grumpuses wound up being punished for their hostility to nature, but if Bugsnax isn't willing to fully engage with these weighty subjects, it shouldn't bring them up in the first place.
The campaign focuses on the valiant pursuit of freedom from tyranny, the online (when it works) is once again based on personal growth and progression through experience points and loot drops, and then the zombie lark is pure pulp fantasy. This is standard for games, of course, but this clash of tones and themes is rarely as glaring as with WWII. And because none of these disparate components feel fresh or new on their own, it makes the overall package feel even less like the sum of its parts. Perhaps with a more inspired direction, one similar to that scene where Rousseau tensely explores a Nazi headquarters, the seams wouldn't be as glaring.
Cage's ambitions might eventually overreach into bad taste, but even then Detroit still pulls off what every previous Cage game has failed to do. It tells a coherent, occasionally thought-provoking story that unites the interaction of videogames with the language of film.
I kept chugging along through its story and its battles without either ever feeling like much of a chore. Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy doesn't have the ingenuity or spark of James Gunn's movies, but it should do just enough to keep you interested on a lazy afternoon when you don't have anything else to do. That's a perfectly fine role for a game to fill, and this game is perfectly fine with filling it.
It all comes down to the aesthetic-the muted color palette, the hushed tones when characters speak, the overarching sense of loss and despair that permeates the game. And most notably, those archaic visuals that look like they're from the latest Sierra game you and your friend play on his Tandy computer every afternoon after school. Olija roots its mysteries in the ever-distant, increasingly forgotten past, with all the warmth and sadness that implies.
Ghost of Tsushima just wants you to play a game you’ve basically already played many times, while also telling you about that cool old samurai movie it watched the other day. Which one sounds more interesting to you?
Street Fighter V is more than capable of holding its own in a fight, especially the new Champion Edition; it’s just not an all-time great like its dad.
Like real life, this game will overwhelm you. The key is to find your own way through it as best as you can, whether it's beelining straight to the next key milestone or taking the time to wander and discover both your neighbors and yourself. It's a familiar adventure, but not a forgettable one.
Wolfenstein: The New Order doesn't transcend either of its genres. It's another first-person shooter that's also just another victorious Nazi alternate timeline. It's proficient enough at both action and world-building to merit attention, though. It may not be a world I want to hang out in that often, but I'll at least try to save it once.
This is a game and a concept that could benefit from a sequel. And if we're lucky, it'd give us an even deeper look at this gorgeous yet squalid Dickensian London.
Don’t let these criticisms or that number at the top of this page dissuade you. They come from a place of experience with and deep love for Digital Eclipse’s work; this particular installment might not be our favorite, but it’s still excellent. If this is your first Gold Master Series, you’ll be really impressed at the reliably great work Digital Eclipse does here. If you’ve somehow never played Tetris, or at least not enough to fall in love with a specific version, and have never heard the story of how it was created and introduced to the world, you might hang on Rogers’ and Pajitnov’s every word. If you’ve read Ackerman’s or Brown’s books, or seen the movie, you’re just going to hear the same history but in the words of the men who lived it. And if you were hoping to play the same exact game you became obsessed with on the Game Boy or NES at the dawn of the ‘90s, you’ll have to look elsewhere.