Effective (probably) if not completely unorthodox, and it only works as intended, whatever that intention is, a few times.
Weeping Doll is a brief presentation of experiments that do not work in virtual reality. Its theme is neither frightening nor coherent, its puzzles are mundane and straightforward, player movement is disorienting and inelegant, and its visual aesthetic imitates the vision of a person with a dangerous blood alcohol concentration. Weeping Doll blunders its format worse than Digital Pictures' full-motion video projects miscalculated the Sega CD.
Ace Banana demonstrates that virtual reality experiences can be as creatively bankrupt and technically destitute as the most cynically conceived mobile games. It's an untended facsimile of wave-based survival that specializes in unreliable control, dubious assembly, and the induction of nausea. If critics are concerned that virtual reality may be a fleeting gimmick then Ace Banana is their core example.
Slain is what happens when naiveté and enthusiasm rampage through ability and execution. Unfortunately, it's the latter pair that measure proficiency, leaving Slain so hostile, broken, and boring that it's hard to muster a sympathetic response.
Monochroma isn't shy about its influences. It looks like Limbo. It features an escort mechanic similar to Ico. It yearns to express a fraternal bond like Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons. By defining its look, play-style, and passion through a buffet of modern classics, Monochroma's identity is left to the strength of its execution. Unfortunately while Monochroma's story manages some delicate moments, its gameplay can't escape obscene points of needless frustration and mechanical tedium. It's the latter that comes to define the experience.
Island Time VR is a survival game deprived of effective resources. Elements that should be in great supply—variability, actionable materials, and available real estate—are reduced to a minimum, instead depending on the novelty of virtual reality for sustenance. With PlayStation VR's incapacity for a proper room-scale experience, Island Time VR is left out to starve.
Killing Floor: Incursion doesn't challenge the notion that shooting galleries are a shoulder-shrugging default for virtual reality. Any potential for dramatic tension and imaginative gunplay is squandered by repetitive enemy encounters, tedious action, and rudimentary objectives. Loud guns and roaring carnage are muted by Killing Floor: Incursion's nondescript comfort in inertia.
Pixel Gear seeks enrichment from the path of least resistance. Its virtual shooting gallery is adequate enough to qualify as a game, but its vacant ambition prohibits sustained engagement or durability. The bare minimum is a discouraging target. Pixel Gear's gunplay is not capable of aiming any higher.
Dead Rising 3's inability to operate without consistently crashing wasn't a simple technical shortcoming, but rather a comprehensive failure that came to damage and define every aspect of its experience. Looking back on my time with Dead Rising 3, I'm not thinking of open-world mayhem under the stress of a cataclysmic time crunch, but rather the ugly and sudden halt of everything I found enjoyable in the intended game.
Perception's attractive thesis—a blind woman should be capable of investigating the menacing house from her nightmares—creates space for an original protagonist inside of an extraordinary circumstance. A premise isn't a promise, however, as Perception quickly abandons novelty in favor of rote objectives, aimless antagonism, and a narrative set adrift in a sea of platitudes.
Earth Defense Force 4.1 is a lesson in how endearment can turn into exasperation. Like the best magic tricks, it's astounding the first time you see it, but a waste of time when the performer can't figure out how to move on.
Onechanbara Z2: Chaos aims to be a garish, hyper-sensory accelerant of calculated brawling and provocative identity. It hits some of its marks—a generous frame-rate and a firm commitment to kitsch melodrama among them—but it's closer to the edges boredom and mediocrity. For a game meant to elicit a range of responses, all that it leaves the player is trite indifference.
Infinity Runner boasts an attractive premise - a werewolf must escape a space station - but its thinly sliced narrative doesn't contain any satisfactory hooks and its moments of player agency rarely reach any sort of plateau. Infinity Runner's beautiful premise isn't an invitation to something greater; it's an excuse for an otherwise incidental experience.
Ultimate Tekken Bowl comes to Tekken 7 with a suite of new costumes that do not work inside of Ultimate Tekken Bowl. This transparent dissonance ironically harmonizes with Tekken 7's initial release. In the absence of content—Tekken Bowl, while dependable, has hardly changed in seventeen years—just stuff the box with costumes and get it out the door. Whether it's part of Tekken 7's $25 season pass or a standalone $14 product, Ultimate Tekken Bowl feels cheap and empty.
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
Releasing five episodes over two years creates problems that are impossible to solve, and trying to work a passable narrative inside a challenging and coherent game was a task too herculean for Republique's development team. An academic interest in Republique, where you can observe a game’s promise before watching it suffocate, may merit some appreciation — but in no way does it meet its intended goals.
Arizona Sunshine splits its time between posturing as an inarticulate calamity and performing as capable virtual reality shooting gallery. Simple luck appears to be the dividing line, leaving the player to decide if a lengthy campaign, vivid environments, and zealous gunplay are worth putting up with fussy controls, hostile conduct, and anemic hardware.
Dead Island Definitive Collection is a case of projection clashing against reality, almost a meta-level statement on Dead Island's inability to step up and perform on key. Unfortunately the only rendition that sticks is one of deteriorating enthusiasm. 2011 was charitable to Dead Island. 2016 almost holds it in contempt.
Instead of coming of with different ideas for a new generation, Sochi 2014 opts for another round of motion control minigames and only adds a manic insistence on a revolving door of controller hardware. It's unfocused, uneven, and typically not much fun thanks to the transient nature of most of its content. For kids it might not matter and for a party it may last an hour, but most will find Sochi 2014's as appealing as bringing their Wii out of the closet.
Time will tell if God's Acre is the portion of Republique you skip over before getting to its fifth episode. Before—and, hopefully, after—Republique has done much better.