A solemn, deeply affecting meditation on entropy, decay, death and rebirth. A culmination of everything explored within FromSoft's Soulsborne formula both thematically (far from being fan-service, the call-backs to the previous games serve to emphasise the sense of disarray in these last days of the fire being lit), and mechanically. The manner in which a sense of narrative is imbued into everything here, from how seeing views of places you'll see many hours later creates a sense of this epic journey, to how phases in boss fights are used to tell stories about those characters, is also handled wonderfully.

The world of Hallownest is one of death and decay, and yet if you look closely you can feel its very seams bursting with life. Sure the Metroidvania gameplay here is among the best the genre has to offer providing a degree of freedom rarely seen within the genre leading to every player having their own distinct experiences and stories, and sure the lore and worldbuilding are all just completely fascinating, but it's the vibes that really carry this game. The way the writing brings such distinct voices to these little bugs, the way each little ecosystem feels so believable both on its own and as a part of a greater whole, the way the music finds wonder even in these dark, final days of this dying Kingdom.

Lordran is seared into my mind in a way no other game world is. The level design of this game is like nothing else I've ever really encountered, deeply interconnected, constantly revealing new secrets, using both familiarisation and recontextualisation as powerful tools.

There's this feeling of setting sail towards the horizon, seeing the shore disappear from view, that Dark Souls wields so often and so powerfully. Descending into Blightown for the first time, or into the depths of the Catacombs, even just the very act of leaving your bonfire, venturing deep into unknown territory and setting up camp there instead, that sense of loneliness, of isolation and vulnerability; delaying access to fast travel was an act of genius for enabling these feelings.

Feels nearly impossible to recommend; brutally difficult, deeply obtuse (sometimes overly so, honestly), even actively unfair. All of this is purposeful, and necessary, but even I nearly gave up at one point.

For all of Rain World's frustrations, no game has been quite so immersive in quite this way before, truly making you feel like a baby slugcat. Figuring out how to explore this world, what your body is capable of, observing your surroundings and other creatures unsure what is friend or foe, fervently seeking food so that you don't go hungry, scrabbling for your life to escape predators, the pure fear as you try to outrun the rain to find somewhere to call home for the night and the sense of relief overcoming you when you finally find that precious bunker, knowing that you're finally safe for the night even if the next morning will bring back the same struggles to keep surviving within nature's apathy towards you.

One of the most uncompromising pieces of art I've ever encountered. Rain World is a beautiful, harrowing, deeply moving experience, and in its final act is even profound and spiritual.

Thematically rich; there is so much to enjoy within here about human nature and what pulls us into this need to discover and learn even in the face of danger, that human urge to develop and grow and quite literally reach for the skies, science and religion and belief and all the tension and questions and confusion and peace these things can represent, death and endings and decay and how we both resist these things but also can learn to accept them as something natural and inevitable. About community, and love, and home. There is a quiet emotionality running through this game that I feel does not get mentioned enough in conversations about it.

I wept so much.

I adore how this game's mechanical experimentation, far from being a gimmick, allows Before Your Eyes to explore themes of memory and transience. Time only marches forward, and does so relentlessly.

I also love the themes of this game's narrative, too, and think it has things to say that are so important to hear in these days of late-stage capitalism.

A flawed game in many ways, not least of all the late-game endings grind and the mass of fetch quests, making it feel lesser than Automata to me.

Still NieR Replicant's exploration of found family, of loss, its remarkable and deeply lovable cast, and how all the proceedings are drenched in moral ambiguity, all of this makes for a very special experience even in spite of the game's flaws. I cried so many times.

Undeniably archaic, occasionally frustratingly so, but there's just something special about Ocarina of Time that makes it endure and resonate for me regardless that I honestly find hard to put into words, and I find it so hard to believe that the first 3D Zelda outing could just get so many things so right.

There's just something about seeing Zelda briefly at the castle as a child, seeing Hyrule Town's descent when you witness its future for the first time, Shiek's various talks with you beside the scattered Temples, that just hits right, y'know?

Beguiling. I love this game's ideas, its stark atmosphere, the feeling of oppression baring down upon you, the sense of horror that starts strong and only keeps growing until it consumes you, your mind, your body.

Leaves a lot up to interpretation in a way that really rewarded me revisiting it, and the final act is something wondrous.

Genre-defining for a reason. I loved exploring this game's world, hunting back and forth, loved how the game allows for sequence breaks even on casual playthroughs, loved how various spaces get re-contextualised on return visits and how each space carries its own identity. This might sound like the core of the Metroidvania experience but honestly a lot of Super Metroid's imitators fail to follow through on some of these traits, in their attempts showing an understanding of this game's mechanisms but not of its enduring appeal.

I wish I liked this game just the tiniest bit more; the blood vial system, the chalice dungeons, some of the boss designs, there are just a handful of things here that hold the game back for me, and Bloodborne's thematic concerns don't carry the same resonance for me that the Dark Souls games do either.

The game is great though, the rally system adds a nice twist to the formula, the level design is very elegant, and the art direction here is amongst FromSoft's very best; the realm of Victorian England, nightmares and lycanthropy, eldritch at its most icky and slimy and wet, leads to some stunning and haunting imagery throughout.

Ludicrously charming in just about ever possible regard, impeccably paced, and with an unlockable hard mode that functions as pretty much a whole extra game with a different story, reworked levels, and more intense variations of former boss battles. The final boss of hard mode is a sight to behold. Close to as good as run-and-gun platforming can get.

There is a joyous kinetic energy here, some really wonderous moments, and also I am very gay.

I never would have expected this game to rank so highly when I completed it originally; Demon's Souls tries out a lot of different new ideas and whilst many of them are hits, there are a lot of misses too.

The more I look back on the experience though the more I find myself just immensely respecting everything Demon's Souls is trying to do. It is far from perfect, sometimes painfully so, but it was a wholly unique experience not only at the time it came out but also even in the wake of those that would refine upon its attempts.

A blast from beginning to end with its tightly constructed narrative pushed along effectively by an uncharacteristically linear approach yet despite this still taking advantage of its series' love of repeatedly recontextualising spaces that were previously familiar to you.

Even now, so many years later, you can feel this game oozing with imagination. The amount of ideas SMB3 conjures up, and the way in which it manages to elegantly iterate upon each of them multiple times before finding the next one to explore, is a ton of fun. Feels genuinely ahead of its time in multiple regards.

I just really, really love the sea. Quietly gorgeous tone-poem.

A strange example of a game almost being aided by how it has aged (and it really has), as the archaeological pursuits your character is engaging with in these mystical worlds are also being reflected in turn by you unearthing this old, time-worn game and trying to figure out what makes it tick. Somehow still just captivating.

Covered from head to toe in rough edges, yet also deeply ambitious, refusing to let itself be boxed in by audience expectations, and whilst the rough edges here can certainly be frustrating, confounding, or even just an outright drag, they also serve to keep Symphony of the Night's relentless creative energy feeling fresh even after all the imitation and iteration that has come in its wake.

This ranking is particularly arbitrary. The base version of Beat Saber is a perfectly decent game with an unexciting selection of songs and subsequently short shelf-life. Modded Beat Saber is some of the most fun I've had with a game this year and had me exercising daily for a few months; it's hard not to wonder, though, if this hadn't caused Beat Saber to have been Ship of Theseus'd to the point where it couldn't anymore be accurately described as, well, Beat Saber.

A story that could only be told as a videogame, with so many plot details just being deeply integrated with the game's mechanics throughout. The Rube Goldberg machines you're tasked with solving are perhaps a bit on the easy side, the narrative too obsessed with upheaving itself with twists for me to ever emotionally connect, but Ghost Trick certainly stands as an incredibly bold and unique game.

World of Ruin is conceptually fantastic, but very uneven in execution, and the Magicite system led to my whole party playing incredibly similarly by the end of the game. Still, a beautiful game with some incredible moments, and that ultimately sticks the landing spectacularly.

The first few hours of Majora's Mask are among the finest in any Zelda game; learning about Clock Town and its residents, juggling several different tasks over the course of a single cycle embracing multitasking to an extreme extent, discovering all the weird vibes the game has, dealing with the sense of hopelessness that permeates it all.

I do wish the dungeons here were better, and the bosses are mostly just bad. Even the errand-running gets less fun later in the game as the number of things you still have to get done dries up and you can no longer multitask instead having to idle away your time waiting for things to happen. Some of the absolute highest highs of Zelda, but also some disappointing lows.

A treat of a battle-system, a great aesthetic, and low-key enchanting vibes, slightly held back by the game's overly oblique narrative making it hard to emotionally invest in what is happening.

One of the better roguelikes I've played. Runs benefit from being short and snappy, and even if it ultimately became pretty repetitive the initial burst of creativity in those first few hours was a ton of fun.