The parts I like far outweigh the parts I don’t. I’ve got my weirdo NPCs, my Ark hunting, my Whoopinkoffs and Dimbledicks. I’ve found every Ark, now, but I still plan on gambolling between side activities. I still want to explore, even though I wish I was exploring a world that had been less generically destroyed.
There is a demon, and I’m going to kill it. With style. I’ll shoot and slash and somersault, chaining together increasingly outlandish combos while listening to electro-metal where I only catch the odd word like ‘sword’ or ‘death’.
Apex goes so much further, reaching into every corner of a well-trodden formula and lavishing it with saucy new ideas.
The setting is too tame, and the fighting much too familiar to soar – but if another dollop of Far Cry sounds appetising, tuck right in.
Just a few weeks ago I wrote about how I wished more games would embrace the absurd, and that’s exactly what Away: Journey To The Unexpected set out to do. It succeeded, but oh boy did it fail.
That’s where Resident Evil succeeds. Not in the drivel spouted from its character’s mouths, but in the bullets spewed from their guns. Or better yet – the clicking of empty chambers, or the spine-chilling scratches of scrabbling overhead. I may hate lickers, but I’m also a little bit in love.
Stumbling on other survivors is a thrill, but in reality those encounters rarely lead anywhere interesting. DayZ is an anecdote-generator, but the odds are you’ll need to feed it more hours of your life than they’re worth.
I think I’m having a good time?
Ultimately, though, Dota and Artifact both appeal to me for the same reasons. Both can feel overwhelming and unfair, but both those feelings can be quashed with experience – at least, outside of the competitive modes. For now, those are the preserve of the wealthy – and a question mark on the game’s longevity for everyone else.
I'm looking forward to the first opportunity I get to play with some humans in the physical world – and sad that their online counterparts aren't sticking around.
Northgard is simple in all the right ways, challenging not because of complexity but complacency – it's harsh, but rarely unfair. Every system clicks together to create tense, satisfying matches where every decision matters.
Most of the time, it's a game that goes out of its way to be repetitive, frustrating and dull.
If you've any interest in transhumanist philosophy or even ethics in general, then you owe it to yourself to pick this one up. If you don't, then The Red Strings Club should still hit the spot – and you might find you have more to say the next time someone asks you about the nature of happiness.
For those first few hours, Battlefront 2 struck me with gorgeous moment after gorgeous moment that's made me reevaluate what's possible with 2017's technology. It's a shame that the fighting frequently gets bogged down by chokepoints, and any long-term appeal is undermined by a progression system that can't shake the pay to win shadow which continues to loom over the game.
Battlerite takes the best part out of MOBAs, making the joy of teamfights accessible to anyone who's only interested in that element of the genre.
As frustrating as that can be, it was why I found myself punching the air in jubilation after difficult bosses. And they're all bloody difficult – but I wouldn't have it any other way. If that sounds enticing rather than off-putting to you, then I can unreservedly recommend Cuphead.
As with so many games, TrackMania Turbo has mistaken large headline grabbing numbers on the back of the box as a good thing. Stripping away a lot of the flab, leaving you with less tracks, would have played far better to the games strengths.