Despite some steps forward, Survivor finally settles for falling back in line and humming an all-too familiar tune.
Remnant 2‘s just kind of got all the trappings necessary for me to keep sitting down for hours on end and drown the rest of the noise out in its cacophony of demon/robot/fae/rock-monster/evil village-slaying goodness.
There’s nuance in these stories—look to the attempts, successes, and failures of just about any other fantasy RPG—but Arcadian Atlas either doesn’t know that or doesn’t want to admit it in favor of simplistic moralizing. The moment to moment writing falters too, meaning that no matter where you look for growth or substance in the game’s story and characters, you’re bound to smack into walls of derivative tropes and bland archetypes. As much as it wants to resemble the classics, Arcadian Atlas can’t help but feel pared down and simple; in a word, it’s modern, born from a philosophy that subtracts more than it adds before dressing it up to appear otherwise. Yet despite its weaknesses, Arcadian Atlas is easy to pick up and breeze through, ensuring that its brand of tactics-lite gameplay will almost definitely be someone’s gateway into an infinitely more complex and rewarding genre, even if it struggles to conjure those strengths for itself.
It’s unfortunate that Sea of Stars doesn’t entirely stick the landing considering everything else about it is riveting to see and be a part of. It wears its influences on its sleeves, but rarely feels burdened by those expectations or particularly shackled to them. In fact, it fights tooth and nail to stand apart and wonderfully accomplishes it. It’s beautiful to look at and a joy to listen to, and I could get lost in its warm and fun fantasy over and over. There are also places that Sea of Stars goes that I want to share just about as much as I want everyone to find for themselves. If you’re at all familiar with the studio’s oeuvre, you know the delightfully weird places Sabotage enjoys taking its games, and how smoothly it translates retro aesthetics and mechanics into the modern era. In short, Sea of Stars is a magical game well worth playing just for the thrilling and heartfelt adventure it delivers.
Gunbrella ultimately fizzles out, playing its strongest card upfront and stumbling as it attempts to follow it up with something meaningful. For what it’s worth, playing with the eponymous central mechanic is never anything but a joy, but the rest of the game around it, however, never flies quite as high as you do. While the world it builds is a compelling and stylish parallel to our own present and future anxieties, it does little else but reflect them. A great sense of style and killer accessory can’t carry all the ambitions of Gunbrella, a game that certainly wants to tackle a great deal of subject matter and design ideas, but should’ve probably settled for fewer than it did.
In spite of it all though, CD Projekt Red has struck it out of the park. Cyberpunk 2077 finally shines the way it was always meant to. I hate talking in anything that resembles platitudes, but Phantom Liberty is an honest-to-goodness triumph. It’s not just the narrative I hoped for out of the original game, it’s everything it ought to have been. It properly sands away the rough and occasionally raw elements and designs of the base game and sharpens its best parts into a weapon like little else. It doubles down and makes it clear this is a world worth telling stories in. It more prominently and earnestly wears its heart on its sleeve, all the while delivering characters and consequences that hopefully ripple outwards in brilliant and bold new ways. It’s everything I could’ve wanted Cyberpunk 2077 to be.
Besides that hitch, Marvel’s Spider-Man 2 is a largely commendable sequel, building on what’s come before it in smarter ways than I’d put past most AAA titles. It’s an impressively lean and refined take on the open world structure that gives me hope the future isn’t just endless growth. Its familiarity is both a crutch and a boon that Insomniac manages to spin in a mostly good light in order to tell a story we’ve seen before with some key changes that make it land more impactfully than I’ve seen it done in quite some time. Though it sometimes struggles to use the entirety of its cast to great effect, I think what it does accomplish is no small task and more than anything, sets up an exciting future for characters I’ve grown remarkably fond of and can’t wait to see more of. If you’re wondering whether or not this title delivered here and now though, rest easy knowing that yes, it absolutely did.
Like A Dragon Gaiden then is both cursed and blessed by familiarity. It’s so much like the games before it that it’s predictably fun, boisterous, funny, well-acted and directed. It is also a bit tame, especially by the standards of the series, rarely pushing in terms of narrative and character in the bold ways Like A Dragon has become well-renowned for, making for a welcome-if-unnecessary side chapter in Kiryu’s story before what appears to be a conclusion for everyone’s favorite ex-yakuza. But even if it falls short in some unfortunate places, this “budget-sized” installment in the series is just as wonderful and bountiful a place to jump into and fall in love with its inane brand of magic.
Like I said, Like A Dragon: Infinite Wealth is positively bursting with just about everything you could think to ask for in a game. It’s a more confident RPG, even adopting the kinds of stories fitting of the genre, but that transformation isn’t as seamless as it could be. Sure, it’s a long adventure with plenty of fun to be had and a lovely party of characters, but there’s also a disjointed feel to its disparate narratives and how they ultimately come together. Along the way, it even loses sight of some of its themes, threads,and characters. But that doesn’t mean Infinite Wealth doesn’t coalesce in some truly outstanding moments every now and then that make the journey worth the highs and the lows. I only wish it better understood that some restraint, as opposed to unlimited growth, can go a long way towards making a better game.
Rebirth‘s world is gorgeous and fun and quirky, even if the delivery of its stories can feel a bit stilted and rote, and it turns the finale of Remake into the impetus to re envision a phenomenal cast in ways I adore. Along the way, it becomes big, perhaps even bigger than Final Fantasy VII ever needed to be, but that excess provides quite a bit to love.
Coming in at an immensely satisfying runtime of about four hours, Pepper Grinder is ultimately a wonderful little platformer to spend an evening or afternoon on. Even now, I (who almost never revisits a game, let alone one I’m reviewing) have booted it back up to dive into one of its bite-sized levels because of how great it feels to just move in it. To dig. To drill. I’m not likely to tackle one of Pepper Grinder’s action-focused levels again, save for the grand finale maybe, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot it doesn’t get right. I just wish there was more of what worked to go around.