Brett Makedonski's Reviews
The nature of Gears of War 4 is that we won't know its legacy until there are more games in the canon. That's frustrating now but it'll hopefully be exciting later. This was a fine first showing but it'd be nice to see The Coalition carve its own identity for Gears of War. Using Epic's foundation is understandable and expected, but it often feels like a crutch. Marcus' boy had grown up just like him.
That's kind of where Forza Horizon is at right now: It's a series that's consistently enjoyable on an every-other-year cycle. Playground Games' take on Australia falls right in line. It's not quite the leap that the franchise made from the original Horizon to Horizon 2, but it's not on cruise control, either. There's enough variation here -- from the feel of cars to the game modes to the radio stations -- that this is another excellent installment in an always-excellent series. And, since variation is a key reason for Horizon 3's success, well, Australia seems like it's probably the most perfectly appropriate setting.
Still, some people will find meaning and depth in what Dear Esther delivers. I envy that. The linchpin of these games is to develop a connection with the player. Along with that connection comes emotion. Dear Esther is simply too disconnected from itself to ever connect with me.
It's all a shame because ReCore shows so much promise in its opening hours. It's easy to envision a way in which all those ideas could manifest into something great. They don't, though. Instead, it's just a jumble of mechanics that never jell, gameplay that grows stale far too quick, and insulting design. System failure.
When compared to NHL 15, NHL 17 is miles ahead; when compared to NHL 16, it's incrementally better. That's the EA Sports way. There are some new features and improvements, but nothing mind-blowingly innovative. That's perfectly fine. There's a good hockey game at the core, and a lot of options on the periphery. That's all we ever wanted.
Those are the issues that are easy to pin down. But really, Grow Up suffers from all the downsides of not giving the player structure. It just feels like less of a problem here because the developer is wholly transparent about that fact. Grow Up is as Ubisoft as a Ubisoft game can get. It may be a lot of bloat, but at least the game's comfortable enough to carry it proudly.
Those two ideas that come with gigantic BUTs attached to them are the kindest things I can muster about Ghostbusters. The rest is a vapid, hackneyed slog that feels incredibly long despite being rather short. Ghostbusters does the bare minimum required, and it's apparent that this is a project that nobody cared about. It's ironic that a game so entrenched in specters and spooks is so completely lacking in spirit.
The parallel to Limbo feels necessary when talking to people who haven't yet played Inside; after finishing it, it feels wholly unnecessary. Inside stands on its own merits as a superbly captivating and moving experience, one that's bound to be on your mind in the time you spend away from it. Someone once told me that the games you can't stop thinking about when you're not playing them are the truly great ones. I'm inclined to agree. Inside fits that mold even though we've seen others of its ilk before.
Truly, the best thing to come out of Trials of the Blood Dragon is that we get a continuation of the Blood Dragon story and a setup for a possible proper sequel. Other than that, it's a forgettable jumble of things that don't live up to either the Trials or the Blood Dragon names. It's kind of ironic that Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon is one of the best-executed novel gimmicks in recent memory, because taking that idea and tweaking it to a new extreme has made Trials of the Blood Dragon one of the worst.
Despite these shortcomings, I still find myself drawn to TurnOn. The majority of its levels are slow-paced and exploration-based, and there's something surprisingly cathartic about gradually lighting up the entirety of an area. It's just too bad that Brainy Studio wasn't comfortable enough to stick to TurnOn's strengths and had to turn to alternative sources for its energy.
That exact design decision is emblematic of most everything wrong with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutants in Manhattan. It does its best to spread little content as far as it can possibly go. It's a very short game that still manages to be far too long. The anchovies on the pizza is that it doesn't even necessarily succeed where Platinum Games usually excels. Cowabummer.
Quantum Break won't at all times feel like a game, as the player spends a fair chunk of time relegated to spectator. But, no matter which side Quantum Break is showing, it's always going to be a spectacular one.
Yet, those who are looking for one last fix of Assassin's Creed before heading into the break should find some solace in The Last Maharaja's comforting ways. It's enjoyable enough on its gameplay merits to warrant spending time with it; it's also inconsequential enough that you couldn't be blamed for skipping it. It really just depends on how badly you want to play more Assassin's Creed.
Under all of this is the framework of a great runner. There are times when it's pleasing in almost every conceivable way. But, the unnecessary is too much to ignore; it bogs it down into the waters of mediocrity. The cliché fits perfectly here: More isn't always better.
Those are the qualities that make the game more tolerable than it would otherwise be. Without much option of anything besides leaning on the NES version's method of using Blob (a non-playable character) as the means of gameplay execution, WayForward's take on A Boy and His Blob is frustratingly imprecise and inaccurate. But, by deviating a bit and adding the jellybean wheel, it killed any momentum and turned the game into a slog. That is truly the worst of both worlds.
Truthfully, I wish I didn't have to score The Witness. I don't want to set people up for that expectation; I don't want a voice in the back of their head that says "Okay, when does this become a ten?" In a way, that's unfair and detrimental to how the game should be experienced, which is as open-minded and unassuming as possible. Don't go to The Witness. Let The Witness come to you.
Jack the Ripper can't aspire to reach the heights that Syndicate did. But, it also doesn't suffer the same setbacks. In a game where open-world strain can become a serious problem, this add-on is a mostly-focused reprieve. Sure, there are some fumbling moments, but there are also some elegantly-handled ones. Given the difficult source material and the obvious danger of stumbling, Jack the Ripper mostly doesn't, and that feels like a best-case outcome.
One of the more poignant moments in Syndicate is a scene where Crawford Starrick is solemnly playing piano. At the conclusion of the slow, heartfelt song, he earnestly sings "In such a moment, I but ask that you'll remember me. That you'll remember me." We remember you, Assassin's Creed. And now, we have hope for what else you can do.
Despite finding issues with this chapter at every turn, I found myself more or less fulfilled with the conclusion -- although, I firmly believe that's an enthusiasm for Life is Strange as a whole as opposed to this installment alone. I think Dontnod discovered that it created a world that sprawled a little too far, and it wasn't sure how to bring it all to an end. So, it went with the easiest option. Or, as an art critic in this chapter phrased it, it took the path of least regret.
NHL 16 isn't perfect, but it's a substantial improvement over what released last year.