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As the game industry has proven throughout the years, the Metroid formula is worth iterating and reiterating upon. Now that the formula is back home in the original series that created it, here’s hoping Nintendo remembers this too.
So inasmuch as I’m certain of my opinion of “Far Cry 6′s” gameplay, I am not confident at all when it comes to the game’s story, of which, coincidentally, the franchise has repeatedly invited scrutiny. There are good performances and narrative beats that are compelling and trenchant. But less charitably, some of these moments evoke conversations you might find if you poke around on Twitter for a few minutes. The story invites reflection on questions that are unresolvable — and are likely to remain that way, “Far Cry 6′s” effort notwithstanding.
Hopefully, characters can be voiced soon, because currently, without voices or soundtracks containing memorable tunes from shows, “Nickelodeon All-Star Brawl” feels lifeless, with the characters and stages appearing as copies that don’t quite nail the memories we cherish from the cartoons. Sure, the gameplay is tight and fun, but without the iconic phrases, noises and soundtracks, these fighters might as well be anyone.
From a visual standpoint, every line and every hue seems purposeful, in contrast to so many other games that heap color upon color and detail upon detail as if "more colors and visual effects equals better graphics."
Look at “Eastward” as a love letter to EarthBound, Zelda and Japanese RPGs. You can tell a lot of love was poured into this game and years of work. But the game’s art, music and format all work in service of a story that doesn’t actually say much. “Eastward” just doesn’t connect those last few dots.
I never felt any urgency to break the time loop since everyone in the world — even Colt — is pretty blithe about going through the motions from one loop to the next. Alas, I find it difficult to imagine anyone who isn’t partial to video game tropes loving Deathloop. Unless you’re particularly drawn to its vibe, it’s a shooter with good mechanics but not much more than that.
“Kena” isn’t especially inventive, but the game is an entertaining hodgepodge of tried-and-true ideas. A sense of deja vu certainly emerges. But one scarcely notices it during the brisk battles or amid the splendors and astonishments of the enveloping forests.
In that way, “Deathloop” is a big winking self-reference. It is not really a social space, even with (limited) multiplayer. It is not a shop, or a metaverse or a simulation. It is not film, and efforts to translate it to prestige TV would snuff out its red hot heart. It is not borne of a producer’s latent anxieties about games being kids’ table fare. It is a game with ambitions to be great at being a game, and mostly just that. It exists in a clear lineage of games. It includes games, and is about games. It is refreshing to participate in something that is so itself.
Lost Judgment is the most captivating, dramatic and transfixing story of the year, and that should be no surprise to fans of RGG Studio’s output.
As a close friend of mine texted me, it’s like a playable Tim Burton movie. Its imaginative reach leaves most other lighthearted adventure games far behind.
True Colors is worth exploring in its entirety, but it glosses over the rougher parts of life, painting them in a romantic light.
It leans into its own ridiculousness to deliver a multiplayer experience that feels unique to the series and a single-player experience that has plenty of fun reasons to return even after you beat Story Mode.
Golf Club: Wasteland is one of the best games I’ve played this year. I loved everything about this game from its refined art style to its soundtrack. It’s peculiar alchemy of meditative sport and pointed sentimentality is a sight to behold.
Perhaps it’s a good sign that Boyfriend Dungeon leaves players wanting more — it means that it’s compelling, even if only for a short time.
I doubt that Twelve Minutes will go down as a crowd pleaser. If the revelation fails to move you then all that came before it was for naught. But if it catches you unexpectedly, as it did me, then Twelve Minutes may linger in your mind as an unusually effective high concept piece.
Not every idea lands — a parody of turn-based JRPG battles toward the end feels overly labored — and it’s hard to escape the sense that writer and co-director Suda51 is being self-indulgent even by his standards. Perhaps there’s such a thing as trying to squeeze too many references and cameos into a script. For all the surprises, the riotous homages, plot twists, characters and style switches, there’s not much to bind them, and not much genuine innovation.
After traversing nearly a dozen brains, I, along with Raz, couldn’t help but feel empathy for people along all walks of life. The moral of the story, delivered rather obviously by Raz’s supervisor Hollis Forsythe, is that institutions are flawed, people are flawed, but we are all just trying our best.
I can’t remember a game that sustains an awe-inspiring presentation for just about every second you play.
As it stands, “Road 96” feels like a preview of a better future in which another game grafts more sophistication onto its sturdy template.
While brimming with gorgeous visuals and charm, for a game about time, “Cris Tales” doesn’t seem to value yours.