SuperHyperCube leverages virtual reality as a space for three dimensional thinking. It may be the most straightforward game of PlayStation VR's launch, but its intelligible nature makes it no less effective at creating panic. SuperHyperCube is fast, smooth, and, right now, an ideal entry point for virtual reality gaming.
Thumper wraps a trip through spectral hell, the sensation of travelling down an interminable barrel of a gun, and a pounding rhythm game into an articulate package. It condenses to a sensory rampage that feels as concerned with survival as it is as consumed by perfection. Hitting notes on highway isn't a new concept, but performing it under the threat of phantasmal horror, and somehow empowering progress, positions Thumper as a modern apex.
The death of the Dreamcast. The birth of PlayStation VR. Rez's singular orbit stays outside of a mercurial industry and remains as powerful and as relevant as it was fifteen years ago. By its architecture and through its nature, there isn't a time when Rez won't be beautiful. PlayStation VR, as it happens now, is the best way to experience it in 2016.
Would you prefer a tenacious coach who encourages you to do better or an obstinate teacher who seems aroused by failure? Necropolis expects its audience to compose the latter. No one needs their games to be nurturing or complimentary, but the decency to spotlight meaningful content and abandon waste is a manner Necropolis could stand to learn
Diaries of a Spaceport Janitor is a hallucinogenic merry-go-round of oddities operating at dangerous speeds. Some passengers will be bored to tears at its perceived mundanity while others will find themselves charmed by its stylish construction and otherworldly performance. A select few may be eaten by the ride. In any case, riders will find their expectations carefully challenged.
Clustertruck posits a world in which a mysterious force must fashionably break the will of a congregation of sentient eighteen-wheelers whom do not care if they live or die. This is exactly as fun as you think it is. A detectable absence of precision and available control may disappoint those hoping for a more air-tight platformer, but also this game is called "Clustertruck." It performs as advertised.
The complex nature of videogame creation usually precludes exclusive compositions. When allowed, however, you're likely to find a piece of the designer's soul buried in the experience. Memoir En Code: Reissue embodies this sentiment with its delicate recreation of tense and peaceful moments of its author's life. It's funny, painful, relatable and, unfortunately, a little heartbreaking.
A perfect enigma is a perpetual struggle between tenable doubt and informed speculation. This is difficult to produce in any creative medium, let alone one that relies on personal interaction. Videogames almost never attempt to do this. Virginia does. The fallout could have been an obtuse curiosity, but it succeeds in throttling tension through subdued parlance, laying out a series of clues and challenging the player to organize them into a cogent (and personalized) picture of the story.
What was once an assembly of divergent systems is now a finely tuned machine, one that enables a man to combine a bull skull with motor oil and use it to liquidate scores of zombies. Dead Rising 2 brought focus and direction to an experience that used to be defined by chaos and disorder. Pandemonium isn't completely wiped out, but this time it works with, rather than against, the player's objectives.
In 2011, a faintly redressed model of Dead Rising 2 and a replacement hero in Frank West may have seemed crass. Now, with both Dead Rising 2 and Dead Rising 2: Off the Record released simultaneously and priced identically, it's a simple matter of choice. Do you want Dead Rising 2 as it was conceived, or a genetically modified clone that's less inspired but, technically, a lot more fun?
In 2006, Dead Rising's clever assembly of ideas rampaged against comfort and cohesion. Time has been kind to Dead Rising's sharp edge of nonconformity, though some of its quirks feel frustrating after two (and a half) sequels provided a better defense of its thesis.
Alone With You sometimes suffers inside of its medium, an understandable impedance of a small project that simply can't be good at everything. Its eagerness to sidestep conventional challenges with singular objectives, however, will last longer than some of its prosaic mechanics. Valuable science fiction maintains a crucial element of humanity, a facet of storytelling Alone With You embraces with, of all possibilities, relatable human beings.
Scouring Abzu's marine paradise opens an argument for emotive communication and softened storytelling. Too often, however, Abzu is less a defense of its beliefs and more a negotiation out of a cornered medium.
Quadrilateral Cowboy's fascination with precision is only matched by its fondness for personalized anarchy. Imagine the empowerment of executing a line of effective and largely improvised code combined with the ignorance that you're just moments away from shooting yourself in the head. At its best, Quadrilateral Cowboy is all of the fun and experimentation of retro-future cyber heists without all of the existential horror that comes with most definitions of mortality.
Headlander doesn't spend all of its time building a monument to Super Metroid, opting instead for a dangerous medley of absurdity that's nevertheless stable and, once you really start to look at it, kind of marvelous in its ability to stand upright and qualify as evidence of meaningful dissent.
Tokyo Mirage Sessions #FE is control under the illusion of chaos. The alliance between two divergent properties seems tenuous, but when was the last time a Fire Emblem or MegaTen game didn't exceed expectations? Why wouldn't a late-term Wii U game gleefully erupt inside of its doomed platform? Sacrificed (somewhere) were elements of surprise and spontaneity, locking Tokyo Mirage Sessions to a rigid course, but its overall performance leaves little doubt of its capability; Nintendo and Atlus saved one of the best for last.
Song of the Deep is a meandering lesson that not every reflection of Metroidvania has to be a grand odyssey. By that measure it's a serviceable decent into the great unknown with a handful of neat ideas. It's also too oblivious of its own limitations to leave a distinct impression in a crowded field. "Groundwork for something greater" isn't a beacon of optimism, but it's probably the finest impression Song of the Deep can manage.
Furi becomes essential by identifying and removing what it declares expendable. There are no exotic mechanics, insatiable combo chains, or compulsory battles against waves of time-eating sycophants. Instead, Furi trusts the player to process a tiny allowance of raw actions into a dazzling exhibition of refined skill. With a Murderer's Row of bosses perfectly apt to oblige this exercise, Furi helps define a new aesthetic of rarefied action.
Inside's quiet confidence is a maneuver invented to not only disarm the player, but also destabilize assumptions that seem inseparable from an entire class of games. Plenty of games have pulled the curtain away to thunderous applause. Only Inside has room for shock, panic, and the inconceivable notion that the nightmare isn't yet over.
Creating a candid simulation of a correctional facility is Prison Architect's purpose. Its power is allowing the player to decide if moral indifference—their own or Prison Architect's—is either a strength or weakness. Prison Architect's trip to the PlayStation 4 undermines its capability with an unnecessary layer of obstruction, but the interference it creates isn't impossible to overcome.