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Mewgenics has so much that its sluggish meta-progression feels designed to get you to see as much of it as possible, albeit at the cost of satisfying pacing. Even when you’re technically earning something new on each new run, the goal remains nowhere in sight.
With so many Souls-like action RPGs being released at a steady clip, there seems to be an imperative, fair or not, for each one to justify its own existence. It’s not like we’re at a shortage of From Software-produced options as it is, and these remain the standard by which their would-be peers are measured. So with every new release the same question arises: “What makes this one worth my time?” But with its exceptionally detailed craftsmanship and an irresistible conceptual twist, Nioh 3 doesn’t let the question linger for very long.
But for over a dozen hours, Aava’s task and the player’s pleasure is to let the world below fall away, keep the conversation civil between her and the mountain itself. And whenever there’s an adrenaline rush, you know you’re doing it wrong.
They don’t just present an overarching series of arguments over the very purpose and place of fiction so much as they embody it. As the game puts it, “The world is the sum of our beliefs,” and in that light, TR-49 becomes a world unto itself, a heartbreakingly beautiful artifact of an alternative history.
A sense of environmental storytelling similarly drives MIO, justifying the scale of the massive biomes and the sometimes frustrating ways in which you have to backtrack through them. It’s necessary to force players to repeatedly take a minute-long elevator ride into and out of The Vessel’s depths, because it drives home just how big (and how empty) it is. Hopeless as things may seem, even the comparatively small Mio is still capable of carrying a spark of hope.
With that said, the Pathologic series has always demanded tolerance for a certain level of frustration because the payoff is so splendid, and in this regard, the third game is no exception. Intricately plotted and atmospheric, Pathologic 3’s great achievement is its reexamination of the series from a new perspective, with sweeping changes to the core that are as bold and ambitious as they are a totally natural extension of the new protagonist. It doesn’t match its predecessor’s level of tension, but in many ways it’s even more immersive and detailed. Not only does the Town-on-Gorkhon still make for one of the medium’s most transportive settings, but Daniil Dankovsky emerges as one of the medium’s richest protagonists.
Even without the Terminator license, this would be just a very well-executed old-school side-scrolling shooter. With the touchstones of the film to work with, though, Bitmap has delivered an experience that finally does proper justice to one of the greatest blockbuster films of all time.
This is a Metroid game infected with elements from modern open-world titles, and every single one is a poor fit.
Thankfully, even if some of the emotional bits, philosophical musings, or political parallels don’t land in the midst of all that chaos, the overall vibes never miss.
This is a game that’s both notable for convincingly placing you in the shoes of its protagonist and for the way it builds tension on the margins.
And, indeed, the skuzzy and harrowing Horses gains much of its power through its linearity, shepherding you through your own complicity in a cycle of dehumanization with scarcely an option to offer a word of protest. The lack of meaningful choice makes the very act of playing the game feel practically unbearable, what with players themselves being led forward like animals.
The vehicles are just a bit too weird, and the sheer pace of things is hard to grasp right away, even for those with extensive racing game experience. But it’s just these same elements that make Air Riders feel fresh, bold, and creative in a way that Mario Kart World doesn’t. It’s also why this second entry to the Kirby Air Rider series seems likely to enjoy the same cult classic status as the original.
Skirmish captures some of the chaos of Battlefield while staying true to the fast-paced foundation that makes Call of Duty so addictive. It’s experimental and nonconformist. If only the rest of Black Ops 7 were as inspired.
You might wonder if Demonschool is winking at us, aware of how it contorts itself to pack Faye’s calendar and conjures the illusion of freedom. Shortly after Faye arrives at Hemsk College, she squares up to deadlift a barbell. A dialogue tree presents you with two choices: lift the weight, or put it back down. “I told you it was nuanced,” Faye tells her recently minted best friend. Demonschool, like the exercise bit, is fun and funny. But nuanced? I’m not so sure.
This is Lumines in its most perfect, evolved form.
There’s so little value in making this series feel like Yet Another Bethesda RPG, and zero in making the player carry water for capitalism in 2025. This is mechanical prowess in service of a galaxy that’s not worth saving.
Ninja Gaiden 4’s gruesome, lightning-fast trials respectably preserve and build upon the core of its ancestors. It should also introduce a whole new audience of challenge-seeking players to the joys of ninja limb-lopping and the pride of overcoming a blockbuster game that seems to give the player almost no quarter, even as its robust movement and deeply customizable fighting styles convey sleek, ruthless empowerment. It’s not perfect, but that sheer speed and aggression still builds a convincing case for what Team Ninja’s heroes offer that Dante and Kratos do not.
Yes, the settings are detailed and occasionally breathtaking, and there’s a glorious range of weapons, vehicles, and gadgets to mow down enemies with. But the focus given to the view and the firepower makes the lack of detail everywhere else all too apparent, and the end result is about as satisfying as an action film that’s all special effects and stunt work.
Keeper is, ultimately, just a long, linear walk, banking on its meticulously bizarre game world to enthrall players to keep stepping forward, and it’s very much successful at that. It’s time well spent—if you can remember what time even is in an altered state.
It’s captivating to behold how Ishii so empathetically switches back to a mode of glorious hate and venom at the drop of a hat without making it seem incongruous. It’s a star-making turn worthy of Atsu’s legacy.