The A.V. Club's Reviews
This is a big, beautiful world to explore, absolutely filled with things to do and see. In a time when our own personal worlds have only gotten smaller, that’s probably more than enough for most players. It’s a game of consistent, small pleasures—at least, until you round a corner, and see something so beautiful you’re forced to just put down the controller and stare for a minute at the rippling effect of wind on grass. There’s a reason we build theme parks, after all.
But it’s usually smart to bet on Naughty Dog sticking the landing, and Part II invests so heavily in these characters—new but especially old—that by the time the actual ending finally arrives, it’s gutting in a wholly different way than the original’s. All of which is enough to make you hope against hope that this will be the last of The Last Of Us—and to suspect that if it isn’t, everyone involved will again justify the decision to continue it.
Resident Evil 3 delivers that uncomplicated rush of old pleasure in spades; it should satisfy anyone who’s squirmed through the flagship titles of the series and wishes now for more, maybe to kill some hours in self-imposed captivity. Only in that beautifully rendered first act, though, does Resident Evil 3 threaten to find something new in an old blueprint, bringing a city of the dead to vivid life.
Lightsaber combat is rarely as fun or interesting as it is in this game, and the plot hits some tragic notes that the bigger Star Wars stories tend to skip over—the Jedi Purge got a sorrowful montage in Revenge Of The Sith and the Rebels cartoon dealt with Jedi having to hide who they are, but this is one of the first times a mainstream piece of modern Star Wars canon has emphasized just how horrifying it was for the Good Guys to suddenly realize they had been totally played and that the Bad Guys had already won. It took a long time, but EA finally figured out how to put the Star Wars rights to good use.
Rather than just pushing the control stick forward, though, walking in Death Stranding involves navigating difficult terrain or finding ways to cross deep rivers without getting swept away and losing the gear on your backpack. These navigation challenges constitute the major bulk of the game’s actual gameplay, and force you to reckon with its connective themes on an extremely personal, almost-granular level.
It’s not until you start playing around with the possibilities of the online co-op mode, and going over and over the different choices, that it offers pleasures in the complex calculations of its Butterfly Effect system. The fun lies more in the thought experiment of reflections on its myriad mechanics, and not in the murky depths of its spooky seafaring setting.
By the end, you’ll know what brought Jesse to the FBC, how and why The Hiss have taken over, and why Jesse talks to the you in her head. It’s a shame that you have to work a little harder than necessary to get those answers, but Remedy has once again managed to put out a game that is so much better than the sum of its parts.
The game, just like the last one, is the ultimate expression of what Mortal Kombat can and should be, whatever positive or negative connotations that may imply.
If 2017’s Resident Evil 7 was a return to form for the long-in-the-tooth horror brand, the Resident Evil 2 remake is proof that Capcom never really lost its touch—it only lost its way.
The best bits come in an interstitial visual novel that shows how Travis gets the Death Balls themselves; funny, self-aware, and styled with gorgeous retro-pixelated graphics, it’s the one part of the game that feels like the product of someone authentically giving a ****, an expression of the anarchic spirit that made Grasshopper’s early games feel like a refreshing breath of post-modern air in a frequently too-serious medium.
There’s a rare, beautiful harmony between how you play Gorogoa, how it tells its story, and the lesson it seems to be imparting.
Despite being the product of some obvious pre-existing parts—Dragon Ball’s anime flair, Marvel Vs. Capcom’s frantic tag-team melees, and the skeleton of previous Arc System Works games—it comes together into what’s easily the best Dragon Ball game made in the series’ 32 years of existence and a great fighting game that’s as thrilling to watch as it is to play.
Even without embracing that duality, Celeste would be an exceptionally well-made platformer worthy of sitting alongside its titanic peers, but by caring to find the right amount of warmth to balance its barbs, it ends up standing up and taking a step ahead.
Throughout its runtime, A Way Out is fun, in the way any game with a friend is fun (and that’s definitely the correct way to play it, since playing with strangers would make its communication-based challenges a goddamned nightmare). But outside a few promising flourishes, it ultimately fails to distinguish itself from any number of more engaging co-op offerings, and its best moments hinge on caring about characters who never rise very far above the level of flat, unengaging caricature.
This is the first time in years it’s felt like one of these unfathomably expensive blockbusters is putting its weight into moving that field in a different direction rather than riffing on one of its standardized formulas, and it’s every bit as jolting as that Hydra fight was 13 years ago.
Subset also deserves credit for the game’s deliberately limited, laser-focused scope. Every aspect of Into The Breach’s design—the gorgeous soundtrack, the bleak storytelling, even the way characters quip about the in-game reset button—contributes to making the player’s battles feel like a life-or-death, “We’re canceling the apocalypse” moment.
State Of Decay 2 occasionally feels like the perfect “podcast game,” the sort of experience best served by shutting your brain off and checking off items on a to-do list while gradually improving your little community. But its best moments don’t click when playing that way.
Every few minutes, Marvel’s Spider-Man delivers a jolt of pure, liberating pleasure.
Bloodstained: Curse Of The Moon is a brilliant ode to one of Castlevania’s best
In the end, Jurassic World Evolution can never quite transcend a certain knocked-off feeling tied to its licensed roots.