Although I did have some fun with Resident Evil Village's strange new interpretation of the classic Mercenaries side mode, I concluded my time with it finding it somewhat disappointing. Although Village's weapon arsenal and enemy roster worked great for an arcade-style bonus mode, it lacked a lot of the content, replayability, dynamic enemy placement, or pick-up-and-play nature of the franchise's previous iterations. As part of the Winters’ Expansion, Capcom has expanded upon Village Mercs, adding a few new stages and playable characters. The new stages are certainly welcome and clearing them was a decent time. They're sort of more of the same and you won't find anything terribly transformative, but the additional variety they bring to a mode lacking in it was appreciated. The new characters, on the other hand, are a mixed bag. Chris Redfield is easily the best of the bunch, and I prefer him to Ethan Winters in terms of playstyle. He's sort of unbalanced, as Chris can essentially just blast through even Mercs' toughest challenges with his weapon set and attributes. I still found him the most fun, though. Karl Heisenberg is sort of fun once you explore all of his abilities, but I simply found him too slow for what I personally want out of Mercs. His wide moveset at least gives him something interesting. Lady Dimitrescu on the other hand is sort of amusing because of how she towers over the majority of the game's enemy roster, but I also found her too slow and only one of her abilities fun. Despite me not liking most of the new characters, Additional Orders at least gives a half-decent shot in the arm to a mode that didn't really have much replayability otherwise. I played through it once and don't intend to return to it, but I did have a decent time even still, and those who enjoy Village Mercs more than I do will probably find it more enjoyable than I did. What it adds is a mixed bag and depends heavily on how much you like the base Mercs mode.

This review contains spoilers

I might have my issues with Resident Evil Village, but ultimately, it's a rock-solid action horror game with plenty of qualities that far outshine its notable flaws. The prospect of downloadable content that actually expanded upon the game's narrative as opposed to the scattered vignettes or non-canonical "what if" scenarios that Resident Evil 7: Biohazard and Resident Evil 2 remake's post-launch content comprised of excited me. Especially the idea of a pseudo-sequel that took place nearly two decades later, exploring the struggles of protagonist Rosemary Winters, who had previously served as the dismembered MacGuffin in Village. Shadows of Rose, being DLC, was never going to have Village's production value, but I was surprised by how disappointed I ended up with it as a whole.

Although developed by Capcom, Shadows of Rose was led by different key staff than the base game and feels a little dissonant with Village as a result. Taking place from a third-person perspective and featuring over-the-shoulder combat feels strange given Village's original perspective, but it's not poorly executed either. Given that we've had two over-the-shoulder games in the RE Engine prior, this doesn't surprise me. Gunplay and aiming both feel adequate and nothing about the base mechanics strikes me as badly done. Capcom has fairly gracefully transformed Village's gameplay loop into a different perspective and that is sort of impressive. I have my nitpicks with the movement, though. In RE2make especially, third-person movement felt weighty, and there was a slight delay in changing directions. This movement system felt incredible and learning how to best utilize it to avoid enemies and swerve through Raccoon City's corridors was monumentally satisfying. Not so in Shadows of Rose, where the movement system is far snappier. Rose moves immediately in whichever direction you push her in and this took a bit of getting used to. It's not a bad movement system by any means, but it does feel somewhat unpolished given the level of care prior games put into theirs. The DLC's level design is still largely closed-in, so an RE2make style system could have worked well. In any case, Shadows of Rose's new gimmick is Rose's superpowers, which can be used to destroy sclerotia located throughout the environment allowing for progression in previously blocked-off areas. Rose's powers are a bit disappointing, as for the majority of the DLC, they serve as little more than sclerotia destroyers or what is essentially a supernatural version of the defensive items in previous games. I understand the need to not go full Devil May Cry, but Rose's abilities are so pedestrian and boring compared to what could have been. When the player fully unlocks her powers for the final boss fight, they're not bad, but by then it's too late for them to add anything interesting to the gameplay. The final boss essentially being a revamped version of Village's final boss doesn't help the matter here. Something I did appreciate about Shadows of Rose's game design was the move back to a more survival horror-esque-loop instead of Village's action gameplay. The face eaters, the primary enemy type Rose faces, are particularly dangerous foes that require a lot to take down, especially on hardcore difficulty. This initial section in Castle Dimitrescu was quite solid, and issues with the gameplay's wasted potential could have still yielded a fairly decent experience had it stuck with that, but unfortunately, House Beneviento had to kneecap the experience just as it did with the base game. While I didn't like Beneviento in the base game, I at least thought it had some good ideas, albeit not executed well. In Shadows of Rose, it also starts with promise, with a genuinely extremely tense sequence featuring mannequins that act like Weeping Angels from Doctor Who. It's essentially one big puzzle box where your camera is the tool, and it's tense and scary! I liked that part a lot, which is why it's a shame that the vast majority of Beneviento, and essentially this DLC, is just a prolonged stealth section against giant dolls, and one that isn't even remotely fun or scary. Another reviewer brought up that "Capcom saves their worst ideas for their DLC, without fail." and this cannot be more true. The entire sequence just feels so lame. It's not scary, it's not fun, it's just tedious to play and its attempts at horror feel so tryhard and even cringeworthy. Unfortunately, it's a rather large section of the DLC, so it soured me on the whole package quite quickly.

Despite some intriguing concepts and stellar antagonists (for the most part), I found Village's scriptwriting to be very poor, filled with poor plotting, silly twists, and an annoying emphasis on trying to surprise the player. While Shadows of Rose doesn't necessarily suffer from bad twists or shock value, it's also not particularly well written whatsoever. It has, at least partially, different writers than Village, and in some ways that is clear. Rose, due to her strange abilities and physical abnormalities, is bullied relentlessly by her peers at school and delves deep within the Megamycete to find the new MacGuffin so she can remove her powers and live a normal life. Despite being so core to her motivations, Rose's bullying feels barely touched upon or developed and the DLC's portrayal of bullying is extremely surface-level and unnuanced. With some hyperbole, the dialog thrown at her during some of her flashback sequences sounds like it's from a children's cartoon and not a rated-M game that supposedly touches upon mature themes. After this opening sequence, it's not touched upon much more than through puzzle symbolism, which isn't great but is a big step up from said intro. Although I said Shadows of Rose doesn't focus on forced twists like the base game, the revelation that Charlie Graham was Mother Miranda in disguise, somehow, despite Miranda being trapped within the Megamycete is incredibly stupid. I also heavily dislike how they treat Eveline, the main antagonist of RE7, in her return. What was once a sympathetic antagonist is now boiled down merely to anger instead of the bigger variety of emotions she had in her debut title. You'd think that Capcom would allow her to grow and change, but if they can't do that with their mainstay protagonists they definitely won't for a smaller character either. For what it's worth, it's not all bad. Rose is a fairly endearing protagonist and while we don't get to know her very closely, I do know that I'd like to see her more in future titles. Although I saw the twist that "Michael" was Ethan Winters coming a mile away, the final scenes with them together were quite emotionally touching and served as a sweet conclusion to the Winters arc of Resident Evil. Shadows of Rose certainly has some scriptwriting positives, but largely it falls flat with a fairly unsuccessful story.

Shadows of Rose is difficult to praise visually because the majority of it is largely riding off the back of the incredible assets and maps originally created for Village a year prior. The DLC pack, as you might expect, indulges greatly in asset reuse down to entire locations. Not strictly a problem, but I do want to point out that when I say "Shadows of Rose looks very nice!" it's largely because Capcom had their work already cut out for them. The vast majority of visual qualities and flaws are largely inherited from Village. As for things created specifically for the DLC, the face eaters are pretty cool-looking enemies; I quite enjoy the melted candle wax look, and the way they attack Rose is fairly unnerving. Rose has a neat design and I like that she wears Ethan's jacket, it's a nice touch. Shusaku Uchiyama returns once more to compose a score that sounds nearly identical to Village's but without nearly as many Eastern European influences or standout tracks, simply boiling down the musical style to its base elements. It's largely fine and works okay for the DLC.

Despite being excited based on the premise, Shadows of Rose, unfortunately, measured out to be quite a mediocre disappointment for me. While I enjoy the greater survival horror influence, Rose as a protagonist, and how it resolves Ethan's mark on Resident Evil's world setting, I disliked the terrible Beneviento section, tedious stealth segments, and trite and surface-level storytelling. Shadows of Rose was never going to be incredible, considering the base game itself is quite flawed, but I can't help but feel I expected a bit more than this. Seeing as this DLC takes place at the furthest point in Resident Evil canon, I'm curious where the rest of the mainline non-remake franchise will go after this, but I'm unsure what place Rose has in any of it.

System Shock is a game that needs no introduction...or maybe it does, considering its unique circumstances. Looking Glass Technologies's proto-immersive sim is the stuff of gaming legend, having inspired countless titles since, even Looking Glass's own future work. As excellent as it is even to this day, System Shock hasn't had the easiest time getting into the hands of the modern gamer. Entirely unavailable officially for over two decades, it wasn't until Nightdive Studios' Enhanced Edition remaster that the game was able to be purchased at all. Even with modern accessibility and Nightdive's post-launch support for the remaster, System Shock's inherent design is offputting for many people, regardless of how intuitive I feel it is. While I wouldn't consider it "necessary", the game is a prime target for a modern remake, and who else but Nightdive to step to the mantle? After nearly eight years of development and multiple project restarts, Nightdive's proper game debut has finally made it to store shelves and into my grubby hands.

The System Shock remake, then, is an interesting hybrid between old and new. While not entirely one-to-one, the level design is fairly similar to the 1994 original, down to the lack of explicit player guidance. This will still divide some players, but as a lover of the original, I'm glad this approach was taken. While on some level, this makes ReShock feel a little less "special", there's something refreshing about playing a game in the modern day so committed to letting the player figure things out on their own. In any case, much of the original has been completely overhauled. Gone is the "calculator interface" in favor of a far more modern user experience more in line with say, the modern Deus Ex games. It is far easier to use the game on a basic level than it was in the original, and while I find this system less addictive, it is certainly more user-friendly and that's going to be a plus for a lot of people. As for the gameplay mechanics, they're certainly far more in line with what you'd expect from a modern immersive sim. Gone are the floaty physics and shooting of the original, replaced by fairly grounded gunplay and combat which feels satisfying and rewarding to use. Enemies are tough and demand a decent bit from the player and even in the late game I was still occasionally caught off guard. All of the original's weapons have been overhauled to be a bit more distinct than they were in the original, and have even been given alternative fire modes and attachment upgrades in some cases. There's definitely more customization in terms of how you can handle encounters, which is what you'd expect from a modern game in this genre. On some level, it is difficult to praise Nightdive's design work on this remake, because while very different in ways both obvious and subtle, a lot of what makes it so successful can be traced back to Looking Glass's original design and concepts. Citadel Station's brilliant levels, the immersive gameplay, and the gear you acquire are all in the original and are mostly faithfully adapted here. What Nightdive has largely done is taken the gameplay mechanics and modernized them while still keeping the ideas intact, and while on some level I sort of wish they went further than they did, there's always something commendable about a remake dedicated to staying true to the source material. There are new elements for sure, the SK-27 Shotgun is a new weapon and it is incredibly satisfying to blow mutant heads open like watermelons with it. Enemy AI is as you'd expect completely reprogrammed and they are more nuanced in their behaviors (albeit not significantly more so). The only real complaint I have is that melee combat feels worse than in the original - while improved from the demo, it still doesn't have the satisfying THWACK of the original melee system and while still effective, just doesn't have the feedback I'd want. The boss fights are also sort of whatever - many of Edward Diego's encounters are cheesed easily through the dermal patches (to be fair, also true of the original, too), and a few of them, such as the second Cortex Reaver fight and the final Diego fight, might be too annoyingly fast-paced for ReShock's gameplay loop. The final boss fight against Shodan is appallingly awful, essentially being a waiting game that nearly put me to sleep. I completed the game before the big update that overhauled it, so as far as I know, it may have been improved since. Cyberspace was one of the more gimmicky aspects of the original, mostly existing just to wow mid-90s PC gamers but the added complexity it brings to the game was and still is quite impressive to this day. ReShock turns the original's floaty exploration into more of a Descent clone, with more nuanced movement mechanics and more satisfying cyber-combat. It's certainly an improvement in a few ways, but I think I ended up preferring the original version of the concept. Cyberspace in ReShock doesn't evolve or change as the game goes on and eventually, I found these setpieces grew a tad dull. This wasn't as big of a problem in the original because these sequences were more about exploration than combat. Not a major problem, but something I wish was elaborated on a bit more. It feels restrained as is.

One of System Shock's many claims to fame was its form of "post-incident storytelling" (not a real term) where the protagonist enters the narrative after the inciting incident and has to piece together what remains. Audio logs, often taken for granted as a trite form of storytelling, are part of what made System Shock stand out back in the day and were a brilliant way of overcoming technological limitations to convey a harrowing tale, the journies of off-screen characters, and worldbuilding. Naturally, the game keeps these, and while many are simply re-recorded and slightly rewritten, I was surprised by the amount of brand-new logs. They fit within the game pretty well and there's even some fascinating new worldbuilding (such as why Citadel is such a labyrinth even in areas people are supposed to regularly occupy). Something I found mildly annoying, however, is that the game seems to take itself somewhat non-seriously in ways that slightly rub me the wrong way. While embracing the cheese the original game had is fine, in some ways, it almost feels parodic, such as the serv-bots being welcoming and hospitable while also trying to slice you to pieces. This is never much of a problem, the game largely maintains a serious tone and is something that is definitely a silly nitpick on my part, but I found it notable enough to mention.

While the original System Shock can look garish to some nowadays, it's important to remember that for its time, it was quite demanding for PCs and was a real showcase for what top-of-the-line hardware could do. Although early promotional footage for the game as well as its initial Unity prototype showcased a greyer, relatively more realistic art direction, Nightdive has wisely gone in the opposite direction with an art style both densely detailed and low-fidelity. While at first glance, ReShock looks quite detailed, moving up close you'll find that everything is pixellated. This is a brilliant mix of retro sensibilities and modern Unreal Engine 4 rendering techniques to create a look that is highly unique nowadays. Embracing its roots as a mid-90s PC game, the color palette is rich and vibrant, while still maintaining a moody and dark atmosphere. ReShock's use of volumetric lighting is particularly stunning - the way light beams through the halls of Citadel, creating a smokey and misty atmosphere is downright jaw-dropping, especially in Research when the lighting is primarily red and orange. Lighting in general is the game's strong suit, and it looks especially evocative even in more "natural" conditions. Particle effects are also great, and I often would stop and take a close look at hover lifts just to stare at them for a moment. The environments are richly detailed too and despite the retro aesthetic look lived in and used. I especially loved the unique look of every level, such as the bumpy purple walls of Medical, the striking crimson of Research, and the oily red and grey pipes of Reactor. The only one that sort of falls flat is Maintenance, which is brightly lit instead of bathed in shadow, robbing the level of the infamous creepiness it had in the original. Cyberspace also looks great, with its environments quite literally pulsating with color and warping to give it a digital feel. It looks and runs great at maximum settings (pretty much exclusively hovering around 120 FPS for me with rare drops) and the game's implementation of DLSS 3.1 reconstructs very well without many visual artifacts at all. If I have any gripes, it's that I'm not huge on all of the monster redesigns. While some of them look great, such as the fresh takes on the iconic cyborg elite guards and assassins, others look a fair bit odd, such as the mutated cyborg and a particularly garish interpretation of Edward Diego's final form. I found their 1994 designs far more appealing, but I suppose in isolation they do not look bad.

I will say, if this remake has a "weak point", it's perhaps the score from Jonathan Peros, who had previously been involved with remastering the original game's soundtrack for the album in 2020. What Peros manages to accomplish here is certainly solid work, his ambient tracks complement the game's environments decently and the combat tracks are a highlight. It's fairly satisfying to hear Reactor's ambient theme devolve into a crunchy electronic "mess" with a thick bassline (ripped from the original Reactor theme!). The return of dynamic music, which was disappointingly missing from System Shock 2, is much appreciated. While not nearly as complex as the original game's innovative audio technology (at least, to my ears. There's probably some crazy complicated under-the-hood tech I just can't see in ReShock.), it still adds an appreciable amount of dynamism to the game's audio design. For example, the music doesn't dynamically change based on enemy positions, environmental hazards, or health like in the original, and the lack of that is disappointing, but I still have to admit it's an improvement over SS2. I also appreciate how melodies and motifs from the 1994 score are carried over subtly here. I guess my main criticism is the musical compositions themselves. ReShock director and Nightdive founder/CEO Stephen Kick has gone on record to say that Greg LoPiccolo's score for the original title betrayed its "horror" atmosphere, and while I disagree, I understand his sentiment on some level. Besides not being that musically captivating, to begin with (Peros needs to lay off the wailing ambient guitar), I'm unsure how horror-oriented ReShock's score is either. It feels the main draw is more of an aural fascination with space and Citadel Station itself rather than a particularly tense or anxiety-inducing mood. In fact, I'd argue it was fairly calming a lot of the time. I'm never going to call it an unsuccessful soundtrack because it complimented the atmosphere well, in its own right, but it doesn't have the highly memorable and catchy tunes that the original game had nor its dynamic complexity.

As a huge fan of the original System Shock and its sequel, Nightdive's System Shock remake does not disappoint. The combat and exploration have been heavily refined and presented nearly perfectly in a modern context while keeping the level design largely intact. ReShock feels great to play - the gameplay loop is addictive and satisfying and you'd be hard-pressed to find many games nowadays that are so dedicated to telling the player to "figure it out themselves". Despite that, it's never insurmountable and with enough effort, I think even confused players can figure it out. The game's worldbuilding has been expanded with plenty of new audio logs that fill in details the original never did. The art style is a beautiful mix of new and old, and for an independent title, the graphics are wonderfully executed. I'm not huge on the game's new score, but it works well enough for its context, it just isn't as tense as it should have been considering what was intended. For a franchise that often prides itself on bold innovation and industry influence, ReShock plays it surprisingly safe, and I can't say I think it'll have nearly the same impact its two predecessors had. Nonetheless, if the "worst" game in your series is as great as ReShock, I don't think you have much to worry about. Looking forward to the eventual System Shock 2 remake that Nightdive has expressed interest in.

Say what you want about Resident Evil Resistance; It's a below-average, if not downright bad multiplayer title that feels underbaked, underdeveloped, and unbalanced. Despite that, Resistance at least felt like it had effort put into it. The graphics were solid and it had some semblance of a budget. It wasn't a good game, but it did feel like a somewhat-earnest effort from developer NeoBards Entertainment. NeoBards returns for a second attempt at bringing Resident Evil into the competitive multiplayer space. Resident Evil Re:Verse being greenlit at all is a surprise considering Resistance's lack of popularity, but it's clear it came with some consequences, such as a far lower budget.

Re:Verse, then, feels like a mobile game that Capcom licensed to some random developer, not a major title released on PC and consoles. While I can't say I had no fun whatsoever, the fun I had with the game was from my friends and I laughing at its expense, not because of anything quality or interesting NeoBards created. The gunplay doesn't feel downright terrible, but it feels slapdash and, for lack of a better term, "uncalibrated". Re:Verse in its entirety can feel that way; the movement, the character abilities, the maps, et cetera, all feel like they're from a thrown-together pre-alpha pitch to get publisher approval, not a full game you'd download and play with friends. Everything feels barely reworked to fit the criteria of a multiplayer environment, and the maps themselves, taken from prior RE games, just feel lazy. Each character has a different loadout and abilities, but there's no balance. Some characters are just obviously better than others and when there aren't really "counter characters" there's quite literally no reason to use certain characters outside of being a fan of them. Re:Verse does at least present the interesting concept of dead players becoming BOWs, with their level determined by kills before death. There's a huge disconnect in usefulness though - the basic fat molded is practically useless against any player of half-decent skill, and after a certain point I would immediately self-destruct just to get back to the game. On the other hand, the super tyrant can stunlock other players, which makes him extremely useful. This disconnect leads the BOW system to only be fun if you're doing well and just becomes a burden if you had a bad run. Gameplay issues aside, the game has a severe lack of content, too. There are only three maps: the RPD from RE2's remake, Dulvey from RE7, and the cemetery from Village, the latter of which was added in a post-launch update. While there are a decent amount of characters, nearly half of them are generic "literally whos" from Chris's squad in Village. While it's fine to have one of them, it's a totally missed opportunity to fill in the rest with fan-favorite characters like Rebecca, Barry, or even Wesker. It even looks cheap; the game has absolutely zero production value at all. While the graphics options feature the usual bells and whistles that RE Engine games tend to feature, even maxing the game out results in a title that looks cheap and unimpressive. You're given the choice between two aesthetics: the usual realism the series tends to offer, and a comic book filter. Neither is good and both have drawbacks - the comic filter looks garish and terrible, and the filterless mode makes Re:Verse's asset flip nature more apparent. Combine that with very little in the way of an original score (the match theme is just a slightly dynamic version of Looming Dread from RE2make) and you have a game that feels like it was put together in a few months.

Resident Evil Re:Verse was infamously delayed over a year past its original release date and to what gain? I played the game's open beta back in 2021 and felt lukewarm, albeit charitable. I gave its general lack of polish and content some slack due to being an incomplete game. Playing the finished game in 2024 only to find out it's hardly any different at all was massively disappointing albeit not surprising. On some level, I am rooting for NeoBards. I can't imagine that neither Resistance nor Re:Verse turned out how they would have liked had they been given better circumstances and Capcom is likely equally at fault for how these games have turned out. It seems that with Silent Hill F they are being given the opportunity to make a game that isn't microtransaction-laden multiplayer slop, and I'm willing to give their unproven skills in that field a shot. I do know, however, that I will not be playing any new multiplayer games from the studio anytime soon.

This review of Don't Starve isn't going to be very conventional as far as my writing goes. I try to be as thorough as possible with these, especially with games that I've completed, but with Don't Starve, I simply cannot do either. Klei Entertainment has absolutely stuffed this game full of content that I simply cannot experience in its entirety within the time frame I was able to play this game.

That being said, Don't Starve is an enjoyable time. There's a wealth of different things to build, ways to survive, and things to do. There are straight-up areas of the game that I know exist that I did not get to. In any case, there's a lot to do in this game, and part of the fun is coming across all of the things you can find and wondering what they do. Not all of what they do is interesting, mind you, but there's so much that some of it is inevitably going to be fun. For example, cooking food on a fire eventually becomes a monotonous, automatic task, but is made more fun when you build a crock pot, which allows you to experiment with different recipes that have different levels of effectiveness. Despite that, I can't help but feel the game's procedural generation isn't as good as it could be. It mostly focuses on "setpieces", individual areas with unique events, rather than the map itself. While this is a unique approach, it does mean that every game of Don't Starve feels essentially the same to me. Maps always have the same broad areas for the most part and even if the layout is different, it doesn't feel that way. In the thirty or so hours I spent with the game, I couldn't say I was presented with the same uniqueness that other procgen games such as Spelunky and Brogue had recently shown me. Despite the wealth of content, I just sort of got bored near the final stretch, but still felt satisfaction in reaching the "end goal" for this exchange. The game is helped by its stellar presentation; a Tim Burton-inspired world with memorable character designs, tons of personality in the fluid and expressive animation, and a genuinely whimsical if overly short soundtrack. Some minor issues, such as an unnecessary 60 FPS lock, remain over a decade after release, but it's not a huge problem.

Would I recommend Don't Starve, then? I honestly don't know if I can. Not because the game is not quality, it is, but because I have not experienced enough of it yet. If you like survival games and somehow haven't played it yet, it's certainly worth a shot.

This review contains spoilers

It's difficult to start a review of these modern Resident Evil games without taking a moment to mention the impact that Resident Evil 7: Biohazard had on not just the franchise, but the genre as a whole. While survival horror had never truly gone away, it was essentially dead in the AAA space, and RE7 had proven an excellent example of what a high-budget, modern survival horror experience could be. While not all of these newer RE games have entirely hit the mark, the series is certainly back in full force. For around four years, Capcom largely focused on remaking older titles rather than pushing the franchise forward, so Resident Evil Village finally continues the story of Ethan Winters while bringing back the first-person perspective that made RE7 unique for the franchise.

This, to an extent, is why Village feels so strange as a sequel to RE7. RE7 and Resident Evil 2's remake had pushed for classic survival horror game design in a modern context, something that Resident Evil 3's remake would push against yet largely fall in line with. Village opts to eschew this entirely in favor of action-horror gameplay drenched in survival horror window dressing. I've never strictly had a preference between these two gameplay styles (although I generally find the survival titles far better), but considering the historical context behind the game Village is following up on, this move is an odd one. Despite that, I would say Village's game design is largely well executed. Copy-pasting RE7's gameplay into much larger levels would lead to disaster, which is why Capcom has rather tastefully upgraded the combat system to favor more intensive situations with more enemies at once. Your weapons, even the more powerful ones, all feel appropriately rinky-dink and you never entirely feel safe behind the trigger. Even so, shooting feels just good enough to make the moment-to-moment gameplay still rather fun even if it's not exactly silky smooth by design. The enemies in this game, particularly the Lycans, are demanding and require the player to learn and adapt quickly, leading to some surprising early game difficulty. I played on hardcore, and not only are Lycans tanky, but they bob and weave throughout the environment actively dodging your crosshair and this makes fighting them both tricky and tense. Mastery of timing, blocking, and pushing away at the right time is essential to success here and this difficulty is very welcome after RE3make's hardcore mode was a breeze. The game follows a semi-open-world structure where the player can return to the titular village after completing each major area, and while I do find this aspect somewhat underbaked, it is nice to be able to come back and explore newer areas after acquiring new items. This open-ended structure means that exploring your environment is just as crucial as ever, as you'll need to find treasure, lei, and even hunt for food to purchase supplies, weapon attachments, and stat upgrades. Despite the genre change, Village is still chock full of classic-style puzzles and they're generally fine. Some are fairly clever, such as the statue puzzle in Castle Dimitrescu, whereas many are a little too simple. I wasn't particularly stumped by any of these, but some of them did stick out to me as being more interesting than others. RE puzzles are not exactly known for being Silent Hill mind-benders, but I would like a few more "a-ha!" moments than I got here especially compared to RE7's generally more interesting puzzles.

It seems, then, that Village's main flaw is its lack of consistency. Developed partly during the COVID-19 pandemic, I get the sense (but don't have much proof) that the game was kneecapped by this. The game is split primarily into four different areas led by different members of the cult of Mother Miranda - Lady Dimitrescu, Salvatore Moreau, Donna Beneviento, and Karl Heisenberg. Capcom tries a lot of different things in these levels, but unfortunately, they are far from equal. Castle Dimitrescu is by far the best part - the gothic horror setting and deeply cold winter vibes help it stand out while also providing an experience that feels like classic Resident Evil. The exploration, puzzle solving, and backtracking deeply echo the survival horror roots of the franchise, and despite the action-oriented gameplay stands out to me as perhaps one of the highlights of the entire franchise. Unfortunately, this is also the peak of Village, and from there, it's downhill to varying degrees. Moreau's area is ultimately fine for what it is, but far too on-rails with very little in the way of interesting gimmicks outside of a pretty interesting puzzle involving levers and platforms that only shows up once. It's criminally short and never truly gets to experiment with the promise of a water-based setting, though thankfully he has the best boss fight in the game - a stressful hide-and-seek around a small arena that ends up tense and exciting. House Beneviento was my least favorite part of the game, a severe drop in quality that I found to be boring and cheap. While I understand to some extent why people have found it so memorable - the house itself is rendered beautifully and the infamous baby has a terrifying design - it's largely a non-threatening level with very little in the way of any real tension or stakes. Heisenberg's Factory is when the game picks up for me again, providing tense combat scenarios against formidable enemies and an oil-crusted, steamy atmosphere. The game certainly has excellent peaks, and at its worst, it dips its toes into mediocrity, but it's never downright bad. It's a game that tries to do many things but due to possible development troubles, doesn't manage to entirely hit the mark in terms of consistency. For what it's worth, the variety the game tries to pull off is certainly admirable.

Resident Evil and side modes are like peanut butter and jelly. Ever since the Sega Saturn port of the original game, Capcom has found ways to keep you glued to the largely single-player games long after you've finished the campaigns. Resident Evil 3 introduced The Mercenaries back in 1999, which would get revamped in Resident Evil 4 into the form we know today. After being absent from the franchise for nearly a decade, it makes a return in Village with a somewhat different, level-based format as opposed to one continuous map with a time limit. Unfortunately, I find this level structure to not be as conducive to the pick-up-and-play nature that I personally want out of these sidemodes, feeling more like a commitment than something I can pick up for a few rounds and drop. Village has a large enemy roster which works very well for this type of mode, and in terms of combat, I find it quite satisfying to tear through enemies in ways that I would be unable to in the campaign. It's just that the level-based structure feels like it cuts the fun short. I'm all for Capcom experimenting with the Mercenaries format, but this I find to be a detriment. There's also not much variety to begin with - half of the levels are just harder versions of other levels and there's only one playable character, meaning that there's less to keep you playing after you've run it through once. It's also far more scripted than previous Mercs modes, with enemies appearing in the exact same ways no matter how much you replay. It's a decent enough time and I can't lie, I did have fun with it, but it does not have the staying power of any of the previous versions of Mercenaries. It's worth one playthrough, but that's about it.

I don't come to Capcom games in general for their writing. I usually find their scripts sloppy and or underbaked (obviously, this depends on the writer, there are well-written Capcom games), but RE7 was a large exception for me. While imperfect, I found it to be a captivating story with memorable characters, and I was excited to see the story of protagonist Ethan Winters continue. Unfortunately, I found Village falls into the same trappings I mentioned earlier. The scenario requires too much suspension of disbelief to be effective, and the moment Mother Miranda enters the picture is when a solid foundation crumbles beneath your feet. So many silly questions are raised by the narrative that are never answered - why didn't Chris just wait to kill Miranda when Ethan wasn't home? If he was going to do that anyway, why didn't he tell Ethan afterward? The latter is even addressed directly as a stupid idea later in the game, but that doesn't make it not, well, stupid. Miranda herself just isn't a particularly interesting or threatening antagonist either. While there is potential to her backstory, it feels like it's dumped on you in the last thirty minutes of the game. I'd argue that far too much of the game's narrative is withheld until the final act, which by then is too late to form any real connection to. The way in which the game prefers shock twists instead of developing growing intrigue and suspense over time frustrated me, especially after RE7 was able to do it so effectively. This means that genuinely interesting plot points - such as Ethan having been a mold creature from near the very beginning of RE7 - don't have the power, introspection, or development to feel impactful. Add on entirely unnecessary world setting retcons, such as Oswell Spencer getting the idea of the Umbrella Corporation from Miranda decades ago, and you have a game that insists upon its own importance while being no less stupid than, say, Resident Evil 5. There are positives though, and Capcom has succeeded fairly heavily in one department: character writing. Dimitrescu, Moreau, Beneviento, and Heisenberg became iconic parts of Resident Evil mythos almost instantly and people are still talking about them three years later. They're all characterized incredibly well, and the actors who perform them do an excellent job within their roles. Dimitrescu, despite her online status, is actually quite intimidating, Heisenberg is always a laugh with his faux-tough-guy personality reflecting that of an adolescent, and I felt more pity for Moreau and Beneviento than I expected. They steal the show, and rightfully so, and deserve to be remembered as fondly as they are. I just wish they were in a game that was more willing to explore its narrative beyond what it can "surprise" you with.

What you can typically expect from Capcom games, however, is a strong visual presentation. Village is no exception, and on a graphical level, it is unsurprisingly the best the franchise has ever looked up to this point. Pushing the RE Engine to it's absolute limits, Village absolutely screams "9th generation". Although I was impressed with the level of detail that RE2make was able to accomplish, Village pushes it to the next level. It's mindblowing how much microdetail Capcom has been able to achieve in this game. Everything looks near photorealistic, from the richly furnished hallways of Castle Dimitrescu, to the scattered and wrecked ruins of what was once a peaceful rural village, to the grand scale and steam of the underground factory. It's all densely detailed to excessive degrees. Asset fidelity is off the charts in this game, even smaller objects look far better than a lot of its contemporaries. The environments you explore are greatly varied and touch on all different genres of horror - the gothic horror of the Castle, the old monster movie flaire of the reservoir, the haunted house of House Beneviento, and the body-horror technohell of the factory. The monster designs in this game are generally stellar, taking from European mythology and their respective genres in ways that are interesting and refreshing. Top it all off with an excellent animated storybook sequence used as a narrative bookend and Village has some of the most stellar art direction the series has ever seen. It helps that the animation work in this game is utterly superb. Everything is fluid and natural, especially the lycans, whose bobbing and weaving throughout the environment looks unbelievably natural in how they respond to environmental turbulence. Characters are highly emotive, expressive, and realistic, and while there were a few moments in the prior RE Engine games where I could point out a few moments of unconvincing facial animation, I could find none such here. The devil's in the details here, and the frost on Dimitrescu's castle windows, the volumetric light beaming through Ethan's ruined home, and the snow visibly crunching under your feet are certainly devilish. If you've read my more recent RE reviews, you'll probably guess that I'm about to complain about the ray tracing again. Once again, it does generally improve the game's visual presentation; global illumination lights spaces far more realistically, with light bouncing around small spaces and generally just being more convincing. Ambient occlusion looks quite great, although it's sort of easy to disrupt it by repeatedly blocking in front of it, which isn't a huge deal but something I noticed. The ray traced reflections themselves however are once again below-par however. While they are still far better than screen-space reflections, they are quite low-resolution even at high settings, which is a bigger issue than previous games when this game features far more bodies of water than before, turning all liquid into pixellated mess. It's something that I hope Capcom eventually fixes with their RT implementation, because it means the game doesn't look quite as good as it should.

Performance for these modern RE games has been fairly variant, with some games running better than others but with consistent inconsistency being a regular issue. Village is another one of those strange ones - while the game does feature high-fidelity upscaling, it's once again an older version of FSR that butchers image quality, so it's not particularly helpful. Regardless, at (mostly) maximum settings in native 1440p, large stretches of the game run from around 100-130 FPS, and if the game mostly ran like this, I'd be pretty happy. Yet, there are still key, often baffling areas where performance drops low, oddly enough often in small rooms without a whole lot going on. My guess is that the global illumination is more concentrated in these rooms, and therefore more demanding? I dunno, once again the performance issues these games suffer with ray tracing enabled (or, at least, I think that's the issue) is fairly unacceptable to me and something I wish they'd fix in an update, but I know they likely won't.

Resident Evil Village was scored by the ever dependable Shusaku Uchiyama in collaboration with Nao Sato and a handful of other musicians. Uchiyama has always produced strong soundtracks for this franchise and Village isn't much different. Focusing on the franchise's recent trend of prioritizing realistic ambience above all else, Village is largely successful in conveying a smothering, choking atmosphere through its music. Rippling currents, undulating drones, anxious strings, and the occasional eerie vocalizations, it's all fits the snow-drenched, European atmosphere of the game quite effectively. Elements of in-universe sounds are used, such as wind chimes on "A Moment's Respite I", the game's initial save room theme, or the sounds of rattling bottles on "The Duke's Emporium". Action themes lean more into the generic, with Psycho strings, thundering pianos, and pounding percussion, though there are still memorable themes, such as "Acid Rain", Moreau's boss theme, whose uneasy notes and discordant rythyms properly convey the monster's painful writhing. Topping it off with Brian D'Oliveira's "Yearning for Dark Shadows", a delightfully gothic childhood nursey rhyme of a song with a strong vocal performance and beautiful strings, perfectly fitting the game's gestalt fairy tale themes. Is Village's score that memorable? Not necessarily; it isn't instantly memorable like say, RE2 or RE4, but it gets the job done with style and grace, even if it could stand to be more adventurous. My only complaint is that the volume is mixed pretty quietly in-game, even at maximum with the other sliders turned down.

Resident Evil Village, for better or for worse, is one of the most unique Resident Evil games by far. Completely unlike anything else in the franchise, what it brings to the table is fresh, new, and generally interesting. The excellent atmosphere, great action horror gameplay, stellar graphics and art direction, memorable characters, and solid scoring ultimately make for a good, if flawed Resident Evil experiment. Unfortunately, lazy and sloppy scriptwriting, inconsistent level design and overly basic puzzles are noticeable and difficult to ignore. Still, it's a game that tries a lot of things, and while it doesn't always succeed, I'm glad to see Capcom further experiment with the series. Obviously highly recommended to RE fans, but generally recommended to fans of action horror games as well.



Harlequin Fair: Harbour Dawn is the unexpected, borderline shadow-dropped free expansion pack for Oleander Garden's Hexcraft: Harlequin Fair. More of a challenge mode than a proper expansion, Harbour Dawn nonetheless carries more tricks up its sleeve than you'd expect. The expansion is much harder, with NPCs being more aggressive, requiring more aggressive min-maxing of your armor and tarot cards to succeed. There are a few more tiny areas, mostly in cyberspace that add to the surrealism of the game, but for the most part, you are trekking through the same levels largely unchanged. For Harbour Dawn's purposes this is fine, and considering how it's free, far shorter, and has far simpler completion requirements, I don't take too much issue with it. It's more Harlequin Fair, but when that game was so unique, is that a bad thing? The only issue I take with the expansion is the new final boss, which I find to be annoyingly combat-focused in a way that doesn't work in a game that has fairly mediocre combat to begin with. I eventually beat her, but it wasn't very fun. Ultimately, a solid expansion pack for those who loved Harlequin Fair and wanted more of it, though expect a far harder experience.

Traditional roguelikes (or as real ones say, simply roguelikes) have been a massive blindspot for me. It's such a niche genre that even the most popular games, such as Caves of Qud and Dungeon Crawl Stone Soup, I've only ever heard in passing and I'm unsure if I've even seen screenshots of either game. Well, there's no better time than the present, and over the past month, I've essentially been treating Brian Walker's Brogue as one of those old desktop games you play while doing homework.

That's not to say Brogue is simplistic, however. In fact, Brogue is very difficult and repeatedly kicked my balls until they were a red, pulsating, bloody mass. I often came away from the game frustrated and angry, only to relaunch it a few minutes later. It's not that Brogue is necessarily unfair, it's not, but the randomly generated nature of its level design and enemy placement does mean that there's a certain degree of unpredictability that leads to some runs being more difficult than others. I only got to depth 13 on my best run and felt I had gotten my fill by then. What kept me playing, then? Frankly, I didn't expect the game design to be as nuanced as it is. Brogue is a veritable sandbox in which you are given key items and are forced to make decisions in enemy and puzzle encounters with them. It's sort of similar to a survival horror game in this regard (though I'd never argue it is one), especially with how making bad moment-to-moment decisions can get you killed quickly. Items are typically not identified when you acquire them, requiring either usage or duration of time to discover their true properties. This can lead to dangerous scenarios if you're not careful. Putting on a powerful suit of armor will bite you later if you find out it's cursed after prolonged use. A random potion could turn out to be a potion of incineration and burn you to a crisp within seconds. These moment-to-moment decisions make Brogue rather stressful and tense, which is not what I expected at all from a (relatively) modern PC game less than four megabytes large. The environments you traverse are varied and often dangerous: pits of lava, fields of flammable grass, and goblin encampments with psychic totems. This means that Brogue is quite varied and you probably won't be getting bored if you have any proclivity with the genre. It shouldn't have to be stated that this game is the perfect "play while you're doing something else all day", and that's not to disparage it, the entirely turn-based nature means you can put it down and pick it up at any point without even having to pause it. There's not much to comment on visually, but I will say that the game's ASCII visuals are more detailed and dare I say beautiful than I expected. Bodies of water cycle colors between tiles which gives off the impression of undulating tides. Enemy visibility is great and each is given an easily identifiable ASCII symbol and color. More effort than I expected in that department.

If many roguelikes are of a similar quality to Brogue, I definitely want to explore the genre more. With a genre largely populated by hobbyists and genre enthusiasts, there's almost certainly no shortage of them. Brogue is a great game to get into roguelikes with, but beware of its high difficulty.

Looking back it's easy to undersell how popular Metroid was in the late 1980s. For a series often reputed as one of Nintendo's less successful franchises, the original game didn't just make a splash, but a crater, selling nearly 3 million copies by the mid-2000s. While a sequel was inevitable, it's strange that it would be released not only half a decade later, but on a remarkably less "prestigious" system. While both titles were developed by Nintendo R&D1, Metroid II: Return of Samus seems to have been developed by a largely different team, which explains why it feels so different compared to its immediate predecessor.

Metroid II differs most obviously from its predecessor in one major way: linear level progression. Linear should be used lightly, because you are still likely to get very, very lost if you are not paying attention. Unlike the original game, where you can largely explore most areas to your heart's content, Metroid II gates its areas behind progression, meaning the game feels much less free-flowing. Do not confuse this for the game turning into a standard platformer, as the bug hunt the player must undertake still requires active exploration to find all of the hidden metroids. As innovative as Metroid 1 is, Metroid II one-ups it in terms of refined game design, removing much of what could often make the original game very annoying. The gamet/geega/zeb enemies which were such a pain in the original game, while present, are far less unforgiving and never encountered in areas where they can end an entire run even in a worst-case scenario. The game's power-ups still require some searching, but they're never in areas that I feel the player wouldn't be able to discover on their own, unlike the original game's varia suit for example. Newer abilities such as the spider ball allow for greater navigation and it turns the entire environment into your playing field. The progression of the metroids from smaller creatures to beings that could tear you limb from limb with the flick of a wrist is an appropriate scale of challenge, but the last evolution in particular is perhaps too wasteful to take down (and yet, still entirely mandatory). This leads to a far more refined experience which, while perhaps not as creative or innovative as the original game, fixes a lot of its flaws and isn't nearly as frustrating. Nintendo hasn't quite nailed down the formula yet, though, as there are still some rough spots that hamper the experience. Some of the levels are a bit overly large, and while you don't exactly get lost per se, it takes far longer to traverse them than it should. The final area also requires grinding if you weren't an expert with your missiles beforehand to defeat the strongest metroids, but the missile drop rate hasn't actually been increased so you just spend a lot of time moving in between screens repeatedly to spawn them back in. Despite these rough spots, it's still largely a positive direction for the series and easier to come back to in the modern day.

Visually, Metroid II is a step forward and a step back at the same time. In terms of graphics, the game features superbly detailed spritework far beyond what the original game could offer on better hardware. Remember how Samus was sort of an amorphous blob in the original? Now you can see the individual rivets on her sprite, and her animations look far more "realistic", too. Essentially everything has had this graphical facelift, and understanding the typical level of visual fidelity Game Boy games reach, it remains mighty impressive. My main issue is that Metroid II, somewhere along the line, lost the atmosphere that the original game had in spades. Metroid's world was very colorful, which is not exactly something the Game Boy can convey and therefore not exactly a valid criticism, but there's far less variety in SR388 compared to Zebes. While there's occasional vegetation and quite a bit of sand, SR388...just isn't a particularly interesting place to explore. Gone are the space pirate lairs, the burning pits of Norfair (although the game still has lava), the sci-fi labs of Tourian, et cetera. It's all just replaced by rock, rock, and more rock. While the general idea is that the metroids are sucking the planet dry of its fauna and flora, it means that late-game areas meant to convey this don't feel much different from the earlier areas "full of life". On the flip side, the designs for the new metroid forms are very cool and it's interesting to see the effort Nintendo put into designing an entire evolutionary tree for their fictional species.

Metroid II's score was composed by Ryoji Yoshitomi, taking over from Hirokazu Tanaka in the original game, and the soundtrack must be one of the most disappointing aspects of the game as a whole. Tanaka's score for Metroid was atmospheric and memorable, fitting each area perfectly while providing iconic melodies that worked just as well on their own. Metroid 1's score feels like a living organism, and this is something Metroid II tries to achieve in a different way, but fails. While it's not without its successes - the melancholy yet beautiful title theme is worthy of great praise and the triumphant surface theme is an ear worm - it's largely weak attempts at atmospheric sound design that fall flat due to both repetitive composition and the limitations of the Game Boy's sound chip. While there is only so much you can do with the hardware provided, the jittering beeps sound more like Samus dialing a phone number rather than the ominous murmurs of SR388's creatures. The theme for the Chozo ruins is grating on the ears, as the bumbling Abbott and Costello-esque track feels like you're slamming your head against your Game Boy. While I do appreciate the moments where Metroid II uses silence to enhance its atmosphere of a dying planet, the score itself does very little if anything to add to that, and at points often detracts from it.

Metroid II: Return of Samus is sort of a two-step forward, one-step back situation. Its further improvements and refinements to the Metroid formula are much appreciated, and the game manages to fit a more linear structure without sacrificing the Metroidvania gameplay we've come to expect from the series. It's far less frustrating than anything Metroid 1 throws at you, though it is less innovative, something the game can't really be faulted for either. Unfortunately, somewhere in that five-year transition, the immersive atmosphere that Metroid was famous for left in favor of stone corridors and cacophonous music. Despite this, Metroid II is still a significantly better game than the original, and one that is worth playing for fans of the genre.

I couldn't find out a place to put this in the review, but I will add as a postscript that I think it's impressive how Nintendo managed to give Samus some poignant character development without having her speak a single word. Her refusal to kill the infant metroid despite causing the genocide of the entire species speaks volumes about her and the fact that this was achieved on an 8-bit handheld system is insane. It's a sweet and rewarding moment for beating the game.


2021

It's difficult to pinpoint exactly what caused the rise of retro-styled first-person shooters as of late. Many games have been wildly popular, well-received, and commercially successful since. While it could be traced back to Interceptor Entertainment's Rise of the Triad remake in 2013, I'd argue it truly kicked off with David Szymanski's excellent modern classic Dusk in 2018. Naturally, there's been a lot of these games since then as the genre has exploded into mainstream popularity. HROT is one of many, and it's in a bit of a confusing place. HROT genuinely feels like a passion project from developer Spytihněv. None of it feels trend-chasing or cynical, and yet, I can't help but feel HROT fails to make a significant mark in a genre filled with games of this style past and present.

HROT's gameplay is as standard as retro shooters go. You're given the standard assortment of weapons, from pistols, to shotguns, to grenade launchers, et cetera. The enemies are all fairly derivative, too. Kejdovecs are just ogres, and konfidents are just scrags. None of this is necessarily a bad thing. Genres are inherently derivative, and all of these retro revivals take influence from previous games in obvious ways, such as Dusk with Doom/Quake and Ion Fury with Build engine shooters. The problem for me is that HROT on a gameplay level just doesn't do enough to distinguish itself. Everything from the base game mechanics, to the enemy design, to the level design, is all perfectly functional and often fun. They all perform their jobs quite capably but aren't anything particularly unique or interesting. Standard enemies and mechanics isn't uncommon in this genre, and it's a genre that primarily lives and dies on its level design. I can't point to any level in particular that is necessarily worse than the others. However, I simply think that these levels are largely standard and I also, by consequence, struggle to remember them individually as well. There has to be at least three levels set in a train station that look and play essentially the same. Complaints about unoriginality aside, I did enjoy my time with HROT. The guns mostly feel pretty good to use. I hear a lot of complaints online that the weapons feel unimpactful, but in this case I think it works, as the broken-down look and sound of your weapons enforces the hopelessness of the 1980s Soviet atmosphere. Even on hard mode HROT feels largely fair, there weren't many moments where I felt the game was cheating me, though occasionally I felt ammo was overly sparse. I do wish the levels had more verticality - for the most part enemies are on the same playing field as you, and even Doom had enemies on different levels of elevation. It can sometimes make HROT feel a little static when enemy placement doesn't change heavily. I'm bitching and moaning, but no one should take HROT as merely mediocre. It is a fun time with occasionally creative moments (such as a mine cart ride) that unfortunately blends together into an entertaining albiet unmemorable mush.

HROT, like Quake before it, is a bleak and unsettling descent into a country slowly crumbling apart. Many of HROT's levels are pulled from real life Czechoslovakian locations which ground the game into a level of deep rooted and personal culture that, while I can't entirely empathize with being an American, can at the very least appreciate. In a generation where most games want to be colorful and cartoony, HROT's dedication to dust, grime, and diesel is admirable and helps it stand out from the crowd. There are many surrealist touches to the game that lend it an eerie feeling. For example, the player is never sure if the military forces they are fighting are human or distorted monsters, facsimile of people. The low-poly graphical style compliments this well, with its chunky character models and pixelated textures not only feeling highly authentic but also adding to said surrealism, and I love the ability to choose between software and OpenGL looks. There's even a good bit of humor, too, such as a boss fight consisting of enemies on bumper carts and a level where you fight off an army of newts. This gives HROT a lot of personality, a good sign that Spytihněv is having fun with his work. If there's any part that I disliked, it's that the game doesn't truly support framerates above 60 FPS, simply duplicating identical frames and giving the game a choppy feeling. Either truly support high framerates or cap your game at 60, because this middle ground is worse than both of those.

Unlike a lot of retro-style shooters which opt for heavy metal or classic MIDI for their scores, HROT's score from Sjellos consists largely of dark ambient undulations and menacing beats. It's not particularly memorable work, but it underscores the action decently enough. The soundtrack is, fittingly, as oppressive as the Soviet regime, pulsing and pounding whereever necessary while reeling back for more atmospheric moments. The lack of memorable melodies hurts it, I can't recall a single song from the game or album off of the top fo my head, but it's effective enough for what HROT needs.

Among the retro shooter craze, HROT feels like a bit of an oddity. While it doesn't do anything particularly new and interesting on a game design level, it's dreary atmosphere, roots in Czechoslovakian history, sense of humor, and retro sensibilities will easily find it a niche with the right audience. The problem is mostly that HROT, despite all of this, just isn't as inspired and creative as many of its contemporaries. It's a competent and enjoyable ride, but one I won't be leaping to replay or recommend anytime soon. If you're itching for a new retro shooter, HROT may be up your alley, but there's certainly better out there.

Very few games can claim to have nearly single-handedly invented an entire genre while also cementing a myriad of other tropes in gaming that we nowadays take for granted. Metroid is one of those watershed moments in gaming that comes around only once or twice a console generation, changing the entire gaming landscape while simultaneously being a mainstream success. Nowadays the series maintains a dedicated audience, though it seems most people respect the original Metroid more than they like it. I can empathize with that point of view but despite a plethora of deep flaws, I found myself enjoying Metroid more than I thought.

It's hard to describe the impact that Metroid had on game design philosophy. Exploring a large open world with branching paths, hidden secrets, and strong powerups is a lot of fun. It's beyond impressive what Nintendo managed to pull off here, especially on hardware as limited as the NES. Sure, this does result in things like room layout repetition, but I didn't take a large amount of issue with this. A lot of players have complained about the lack of a map, but I enjoyed making my own on a piece of paper. Eventually, over halfway through the game, I didn't even need one anymore. The game's map, as nondescript as it can be, had mostly internalized as second nature. Exploring this world, finding new abilities, returning to previously difficult areas, and blowing aliens to smithereens is satisfying as all hell. Returning to Norfair after finally finding the ice beam and turning those stupid bees into a joke is a feeling like no other. It is very successful at making you feel alone, lost in a terrifying alien planet with a highly hostile environment. Another saving grace Metroid has is the infinite continues. This game very easily could have been hellish had it had limited continues, but Nintendo had the smarts to realize that making the player restart from the beginning would murder the game's nonlinear structure. This means that as frustrating as death can be in Metroid, it's not nearly as punishing as many other NES titles. I was also highly impressed by just how innovative Metroid was. It was one of the first games to push passwords, prioritize nonlinear level design, have multiple endings, and deliberately push feelings of isolation onto the player. It may seem like faint praise nowadays, but as someone familiar with the NES's library, it is vastly remarkable.

Metroid is very rough around the edges, naturally, seeing as it's essentially the first of its genre. Some things do come down to technical limitations: the room layouts can often repeat and this can make areas less interesting than they possibly could be. The game's performance often slows to a crawl and this can not only make the game feel sluggish, but downright harder too (looking at you, Mother Brain). These are sort of excusable, especially when the game was originally made for the somewhat more powerful Famicom Disc System. However, most of my issues with the game are things I feel were easily avoidable regardless of limitations. The gamet/geega/zeb enemies are a massive nuisance until you get the ice beam, nearly constantly respawning to pummel you right into your firey doom. Although they give you a moment of respite after you've killed a few in a row, they're far too brutal and punishing towards the player, and when multiple spawn points can be right next to one another it's often infuriating. This is mitigated when you get the ice beam, which nearly trivializes their difficulty, but the problem there is that the ice beam is hidden so discreetly that you'd likely struggle to find it naturally no matter how inquisitive you are. Most of the powerups in the game are fun to find and well-thought-out but the ice beam and the varia suit are hidden too deeply to find without Nintendo Power, at least for me. It also doesn't help that the game's boss fights are mostly awful. Ridley is fine, if trivially easy, but Kraid and Mother Brain are both hair-pulling bosses. Kraid's spike attacks, airborne projectiles, and unfairly placed lava pits lead to a grueling fight that requires a lot of grinding beforehand. Mother Brain wouldn't be so bad had it not been for the constantly spawning rinkas pushing Samus around the entire time. I feel most of these problems aren't a result of the game's limitations but rather poor design decisions. They don't ruin the game but they do leave a black mark on what is otherwise very solid.

Metroid is famously one of the first games to try to convey an oppressive, alien atmosphere and it does so with high marks. While not the most visually standout NES game out there, its presentation effectively conveys a hostile alien world. From the cobblestone and shrubbery of Kraid's Lair, to the oozing purple bubbles and the cocooned eyeballs in Norfair, Zebes is a bizarre planet to explore and each level's theme is unique and discernable. The creatures that inhabit this world are bizarre yet do feel like real alien fauna, and the iconic metroids themselves are such a cool monster design. If there are any negatives, it's that Samus Aran herself looks a little strange. Her sprite is undetailed and formless-looking, which stands out compared to how relatively detailed the rest of the game is. It's a minor complaint, but she is the protagonist, so you'll be staring at her for a while.

Metroid's iconic score was composed by Hirokazu Tanaka, who had a different approach to sound design. Instead of the pop-inspired tunes most games featured at the time, he wanted to compose a soundtrack that felt like a living organism. He succeeded. Each stage is represented perfectly through their dedicated tracks. Brinstar's heroic melodies encapsulate the feeling of starting on a new adventure, but that's the last time you'll hear such music, as from that point on the songs become far more sinister and atmospheric. Kraid's Lair has some of the most memorable chord progressions in any game I've ever played, lending his hideout a menacing and isolating feeling of being alone in a space pirate base infested with hostile creatures. The plodding notes of Norfair's theme sound like dripping lava, and when the score eventually turns into a pulsating, undulating soundscape in Tourian, you feel like you're in the belly of the beast. While not necessarily perfect (Ridley's Lair is one of the weaker tracks), this is a hugely ambitious score for a game from the mid-80s and would set the standard for darker soundscapes to come.

It's difficult to evaluate Metroid in the modern day. I prefer viewing media in the context of their times, and within that context Metroid is mindblowing. The large maps, exploration-focused gameplay, innovative soundtrack, and creative visual design create an experience that has stuck to my mind like glue over the past week. Unfortunately, Metroid is a deeply flawed game too. While some flaws are understandable, if not outright unavoidable, such as performance issues and room reuse, some were flaws regardless of hardware limitations. The boss fights and overly punishing enemies must've frustrated many in 1986 as well, and they dragged down my experience with the game fairly significantly. Still, I had a fairly good time with Metroid. I respect the hell out of it, and it deserves to be seen as an all-time classic, but not every classic has to be perfect. I am very interested in playing the rest of the series.

First game beat of 2024! The early-2010s was a booming point for indie games with digital distribution allowing for more games to get wider attention than ever before. Of those games, Spelunky was seemingly one of the more popular ones, having an enduring fanbase that persists to this day and seeing great success on Xbox Live Arcade. Having not played Spelunky until well after its sequel launched, I'm certainly a bit late to the party, and while I might not be as fond of the game as others I will say that I enjoyed it quite a decent amount.

Spelunky is a platformer that takes oodles of inspiration from roguelike games, and while rougelites currently flood the market I have to say Spelunky still stands out amongst them as particularly unique. Unlike a lot of these games where the rougelite elements feel entirely unnecessary and tacked on, they're core to how Spelunky plays and each element feels properly playtested and satisfying. This is not a fast-paced platformer at all, but rather one that must be taken slowly and methodically or you will die. You will die a lot, and this is a lesson you must learn quickly or you will see little success. Using your many tools, such as bombs and ropes, as well as what you can acquire from the shopkeepers, strategically is a lot of fun. The levels are, for the most part, randomly generated and the algorithm they made to do so is remarkably consistent. You're not going to go from a perfectly challenging level to baby's first Super Mario Maker level and while there are variations in quality, they're not very drastic at all. Each area has a distinct gameplay theme with fun enemies and the escalation of challenge always felt appropriate. I think the ice caves might personally be my favorite due to how quickly one could get through them, but the temple is probably the best due to combining all of the game's best aspects into one. I understand why this game has bitten many people like crack cocaine even if it didn't quite get me the same way. Coming from someone who can beat the original Mega Man in less than an hour, a game often considered the peak of Nintendo Hard, Spelunky heavily frustrated me. Part of this is not a flaw of the game, as it was just growing pains of me learning the game's systems and mechanics, but sometimes Spelunky can be legitimately annoying in a way that is detrimental to its quality and unfortunately when you die and start over so much, "sometimes" is relatively quite frequently. While I do think the stage generation is finely tuned, there are occasions where things that just aren't remotely fair occur. This is mercifully not nearly as common as a lesser game would have it, but it occurs enough of the time to be at least a little annoying. It is still ultimately successful from a gameplay standpoint.

Spelunky's presentation is charming, with super-deformed, squished characters exploring painterly environments. The Indiana Jones-inspired character designs and old timey aesthetic look original and adorable, and I appreciate just how many characters one can unlock by playing through the game. There's really something for everyone there. Once again, the procedural stage generation meshes art assets very well. It always at least looks handcrafted and the team at Mossmouth did a good job making sure all of the game's art would look good when mished and mashed with one another. Again, it feels like a digital painting and not just two-dimensional tiles slammed together. The game's lighting, shadow, and reflection effects add a layer of depth and dimensionality to the presentation, making the visuals pop more than they would otherwise. The only negative I can think of is that the game's assets were very clearly made for 7th-gen 720p displays, which look fairly blurry at higher resolutions, but this is more of a sign of the times than any real fault of the game. Combine this with a score from Eirik Suhrke that replicates the sounds of the Yamaha YM2612 quite well while also sounding fairly distinct in its own right. Each track matches the atmosphere of its environments well and there's a lot of variety so the same tracks don't get too annoying. The jazz inspired elements, such as the saxophone solo on Yeti Caves add color and musical vibrancy to the score.

Spelunky is a game that many people consider to be hard drugs. Considering the randomly generated elements alongside a solid gameplay loop and charming presentation, I see why many people have latched onto this the way they did. Personally, I didn't ever get to that point, but I at least beat Olmec with relative ease by the end of my many hours with the game. There's a lot of Spelunky that I didn't get a chance to access, like the game's many secret areas, and the full fledged multiplayer mode, so perhaps my opinion would have improved had I experienced those. Nonetheless, the game is certainly very good despite some rough spots and I don't doubt I'd click even more with the sequel.

Resident Evil and online multiplayer have had a spotty history with one another. Beginning with a bang with Resident Evil Outbreak in 2003, both games were great but failed to catch a mainstream audience despite initially strong sales due to the limited accessibility of burgeoning online technology for consoles. Resident Evil 5 was designed around cooperative multiplayer from the get-go and still has a dedicated multiplayer community despite its polarizing reception. 2016's Umbrella Corps was a barely-finished mess that everyone justifiably hated. Resident Evil Resistance, at the time of release, was Capcom's attempt to bust into the new asymmetrical horror genre, which had previously been popularized by Dead by Daylight a few years prior. Resistance has achieved a certain level of infamy within the community, which is deserved, but I didn't downright hate my time with it.

Resident Evil Resistance comes packaged with a compelling multiplayer concept: four survivors with gameplay similar to the recent remakes explore a large map filled to the brim with monsters while evading the tricks and traps of a player known as the mastermind. While this premise is great, the execution is lacking. It's plainly obvious that this is NeoBards' first game as the systems they've implemented feel clunky, unintuitive, and unpolished. Playing as a survivor is probably the best as it essentially lifts movement from the recent remakes, though the game's UI sort of throws a wrench into it. What previously was done in a paused menu is now done on the fly and this means that the gamefeel just lacks fluidity entirely. Even the many shortcuts don't help at all. It feels strange that Outbreak, a game for the PS2, did the typical Resident Evil formula on the fly much better than this one did. Once you get past how clunky the UI is, Resistance isn't exactly terrible from the survivor's perspective. It can be a decent bit of fun with the right group, though the map design can often be overly tight and limiting. While this works for the horror-based singleplayer titles, in an action-focused multiplayer game this means it's overly easy to get bunched into a corner by stronger foes such as Birkin or Mr. X. Playing as the mastermind, however, feels like failing upwards. Perhaps I didn't get good enough at the game within the hours I spent in it, but survivors almost always have the advantage it seems. Anytime I won against the survivors, it had been because I abused the game's mechanics to do so, not because of genuine strategy or competition. The UI troubles are the worst here - you'd think primarily controlling security cameras would mean that it wouldn't be as bad, but it just means you have to engage with the UI even more. It feels bad to play and makes the most appealing part of the concept perhaps the most frustrating. Granted, I can't say my experiences with other asymmetrical horror games have been much better, but there has to be a reason as to why Dead by Daylight remains popular while Resistance has faded into nothingness.

At least Resistance's presentation is mostly competent. Honestly, for a first-time project, I did expect a bit less. Running on Capcom's RE Engine, Resistance shares a lot of the same visual DNA as their remakes, but naturally being a multiplayer experience is much gaudier and flashier. The look of many of the levels, such as the casino, is quite cool and provides much-needed variety. However, other areas just feel like standard Resident Evil environments. It's all executed quite competently despite this. They're detailed and showcase high production values and there's not a whole lot more to say. The usual flaws are here, such as poor screen-space reflections and anti-aliasing, but the latter is mitigated by the FidelityFX CAS sharpening that RE3make had. Resistance does look slightly more dated due to being ignored when the next-generation patches came around, but that's hardly the game's fault.

The soundtrack, contracted out to Jeff Broadbent, doesn't inspire a whole lot within me. It is somewhat similar to the work done on RE3make but, as with the visuals, is much gaudier and overbearing. While the game's main theme is ominous and "The Pressure Is On" does a great job of making the final moments of a match feel tense, I honestly didn't recall any of the other tracks from the game once I sat down to listen to the album. The score "builds ambiance" in a way that feels like how a haunted house does without any memorable atmosphere generated or interesting melodies wormed into my head. Every cliche of modern classical horror scoring is present here, from the rising violins to the compositional style, and it is painfully generic while playing and while listening.

If you can't tell, I don't have a lot to say about Resident Evil Resistance. I put nearly 10 hours into the game and yet it failed to make a memorable impression at all. It instead often left me frustrated. The gameplay is a mess despite a lot of promising ideas. There's the basis for a great game here that could have been further improved had NeoBards and Capcom not immediately dropped support. It's very clear that this was NeoBards' first original project and I don't exactly know why they were given it considering their body of work has mostly been ports and remasters. While I root for them for their future projects, I do hope they take greater care with them, too.

Resident Evil 3: Nemesis sometimes feels like the black sheep of the original PlayStation trilogy. It's been very well received in past and contemporary times and was a massive sales success. Still, despite being a great game, I can't help but feel like many of its elements feel strange compared to its immediate predecessors. The path choice system, the copious amounts of RNG, and its development history as a spin-off title add to this feeling. Naturally, the idea of remaking RE3:N, while not entirely necessary, is enticing. How do you adapt its quirks into a modern context while improving upon its admittedly minor flaws? Apparently, according to Capcom, the answer was: you don't. The Resident Evil 3 remake isn't even close to being as bad as some fans make it out to be, but it is a very disappointing game nonetheless. I've never played a game that simultaneously felt so polished and yet so incomplete. While it does manage to improve upon the original game in some ways, by and large, it serves as a massive step back from both the original RE3 and its immediate predecessor, the Resident Evil 2 remake.

From the onset, it's clear that RE3make is different in tone from RE2make, with a breakneck pace that seldom offers the player any respite. There's little room for RE2make's lonely hall wandering or silent tension when the game grabs you by the neck from the first moment of real gameplay and drags you along for seven odd hours. This lends itself to an entirely different tone and while I don't necessarily dislike it, I do think the game could have benefitted from more moments of silent tension, which feel almost absent. On a game design level, RE3make is for the most part fairly faithful to RE3:N, preserving the more action-oriented style of gameplay while remaining directly tied to core survival horror design philosophies. This isn't a downright action horror game, though it does border on it at points. Changes from RE2make such as the knife being invincible, the dodge mechanic, and the lack of ink ribbons on first-time playthroughs make RE3make a fairly unchallenging game even on hardcore difficulty compared to the brutality of RE2make's hardcore mode. Despite this, it's a very polished and fun gameplay experience that while somewhat breezy is still one I enjoyed playing through. The dodge mechanic is one of the few things this game does much better than RE3:N, being infamously finicky in that game and much smoother to execute in this one. It's satisfying to accomplish and it encourages the player to stay away from enemies rather than engaging them directly. The Hunter Betas, in particular, are designed heavily around this system, and either dodging their attacks as Jill or countering them with a punch from Carlos is satisfying even with the threat they represent. I just wish the game was more punishing towards the player - you're given tons of dangerous weapons very early on that can almost trivialize many encounters. The Hunter Gammas are cool, but when they die in two hits to flame rounds the game keeps handing to me, their threat level is greatly reduced. The lack of ink ribbons or any kind of save limiting feature means that there's no consequence other than time to just saving as much as you want, and no strategy. It's still a very polished and enjoyable time, but it lacks the gameplay sophistication that RE2make has.

The elephant in the room here is how RE3make handles accuracy to the source material. You've probably heard a thousand times that this is a severely cut-down remake and you'd be entirely correct. The biggest disappointment here is how Nemesis T-Type, the tyrant that at least narratively stalks you throughout the whole game, is handled. Nemesis in RE3:N is infamously a case of carefully crafted smoke and mirrors. Most encounters with him are mandatory, and outside of a few areas that he "patrols" for the player being based around RNG, he is less dynamic and random than most people remember. However, the reason why Nemesis struck fear into the hearts of players more than RE2's Mr. X was that the mixture of genuine randomness and scripted encounters was done in a manner that felt convincing. It genuinely felt like Nemesis was hunting Jill down and would not stop at any cost like you were getting to play your own Terminator film. This is not the case at all in RE3make, where Nemesis feels more scripted than ever. While I remember having a few random encounters with Nemesis while playing the Raccoon City demo that was released a month before the game's release, in the finished game I never encountered him outside of what felt like explicitly scripted moments. Perhaps I was just genuinely unlucky, but there appear to be very few spots where encountering Nemesis is a chance and not a guarantee. The boss battles with him, especially the rooftop flamethrower fight, are great, making great use of the game's mechanics alongside making him, if for a moment, feel intimidating and threatening. Almost every encounter with him that isn't a boss fight, however, feels like a playable cinematic cutscene from a Naughty Dog game or something. That's a fine thing to have occasionally, but when it consists of the majority of his encounters, this supposed ultimate bioweapon feels far weaker than RE2make's terrifying Mr. X, the exact opposite of what happened with the PSX games. The game also cuts many memorable and iconic locations from the original, such as the cemetery, clock tower, and dead factory (with the grave digger cut too, unfortunately) without replacing them with anything similarly memorable. NEST 2 is cool and all, but come on, it's no dead factory. Remakes will always inevitably cut things, after all, it's a brand new game and not just the original prettied up, but how RE3make flagrantly throws out core aspects of the game it's based on it almost feels disrespectful even if that's not intentional. Most of its setpieces are perfectly fine if not outright good, but none of them reach the same iconic heights as the original.

Scriptwriting is one of this game's bigger strengths, although it is not without flaws. I like how the game takes characters that previously only had minor roles and expands them further into something more developed. Tyrell Patrick had very few scenes in RE3:N, but his expanded role here and his brotherly camaraderie with Carlos are endearing and appreciated. Mikhail Viktor doesn't necessarily have more scenes but his big-hearted personality is much more evident here. Nicholai Ginovaef was handled differently here, forgoing the cold calculated gun-for-hire that Yasuhisa Kawamura originally wrote for someone more affably evil. While I would agree that RE3:N Nicholai is perhaps more intimidating, RE3make Nicholai is a lot of fun as well and I might personally prefer this take on him. He's a snarky, affably evil character who provides a lot of humor to the game's narrative without forgoing his genuine threat as a combatant, snarking at Jill while kicking her into a pit full of zombies and kicking the shit out of Carlos during the game's climax. Carlos Oliveira was also upgraded - while he was always quite endearing and had a fun dynamic with Jill, I think that he's a lot more personable and realistic this time around. He's endearing in a way that feels very human and friendly as opposed to tryhard and embarrassing like in RE3:N, which wasn't a bad approach but was reflective of late-90s video game writing. The only thing I take issue with is how Jill is portrayed. I've seen more reactionary types complain about Jill being too hard on Carlos in this game, but on the contrary, I think Capcom made her way too soft. In RE3:N, she was directly antagonistic towards the UBCS members, not trusting Umbrella due to her experiences and trauma from the Mansion Incident in RE1. While she did end up coming around on Carlos, her burning hatred for the corporation that ruined the lives of her and many others never faltered. While Jill is generally written realistically in RE3make and has her charms, her relationship with Carlos develops far too quickly. Even at their worst, all she's doing is making snarky comments instead of any real distrust. She still works with them without any major issues and any trust issues she has with Carlos or Mikhail are assuaged almost instantly. It feels oddly unrealistic and means her character development from the original game is not nearly as strong as it was in RE3:N.

The game's art direction is decently strong and mostly in line with RE2make, though with noticeably more vibrant colors and deeper black levels than the prior game. The game lacks the more diffused, washed-out 1980s-inspired look of the prior game in favor of something more conventional and that's not necessarily worse though a little less original. The new character designs are more fitting for the more realistic direction this game took, and I'm especially fond of Nemesis' redesign. While the stitched-together, Terminator-esque leather design from RE3:N is iconic, I love how RE3make's Nemesis is wrapped in caution tape and trash bags, emphasizing that this creature is an unfinished prototype, a creature of unfathomable power out to kill you. The hunters have great redesigns, with the betas having a very cool chitinous, insectoid look and the gammas being these massive, terrifying amphibians that are far more intimidating than the original's. I will say, that while the game has great graphics, the design of some of the locations doesn't give a lot of chances for the game to show off unique visuals sometimes, with the sewer location just being a retread of assets already made for RE2make without any new flourishes at all, which gives the impression the game isn't as memorable visually. The lack of certain iconic locations doesn't help.

As with most Capcom games in general, especially modern RE Engine games, RE3make has a very strong graphical presentation, especially after the recent next-generation update. Much of what I said about RE2make similarly applies here due to development overlap and similar though not identical art direction. Dense and highly detailed environments, great use of lighting to set the mood and grow tension, incredibly lifelike human faces with convincing facial animation and expressions, phenomenally dynamic animation work in general, et cetera. Similarly, the next-gen update's addition of ray tracing is still behind what other games offer. Still, it provides a solid boost in visual fidelity over the RE Engine's poor SSR. Capcom finally found an imperfect solution to the engine's typical issues with anti-aliasing as well. While the game's anti-aliasing is still poor, it provides a solution in the form of FidelityFX CAS upscaling, which sharpens the game's TAA in a way that brings out detail while smoothing out aliasing. It isn't perfect, since it results in duller colors if using HDR, but it is still a step in the right direction nonetheless. If there are any problems with the game's graphical presentation, then, it's that there are downgrades from RE2make's excellent presentation. The game still largely looks great, mind you, but some visuals have been pared back possibly for performance. For example, the excellent gore system from RE2make has been downgraded. No longer can bodies be blown apart or eviscerated as they could beforehand, they're fairly static outside of the ever-satisfying splatter of a headshot, and the models themselves appear to be less detailed. They also still animate at 30 FPS at a distance, which looks worse considering there are typically more zombies on screen. This is disappointing considering how impressive it was in the previous game. This is more minor, but the RPD police station looks pared back as well, with windows being flat black glass without transparency or foliage behind them like in RE2make. The usual RE Engine PC performance inconsistencies are still here and seem to be slightly more consistent than RE2make, but that might just be me finally learning how to use G-Sync. Generally, RE3make is a great-looking game, but some strange cutbacks put it a notch below its immediate predecessor.

RE2make's score was slightly polarizing among many fans, as it went with a more ambient musical style that lacked some of the more memorable melodies of the original 1998 score. I liked it, but most people didn't. Seemingly in response to this, the composers for RE3make went for a score that was much more present and in-your-face, so to speak. I don't dislike this change on paper but as far as the more action-packed RE soundtracks go, this is one of the more mediocre ones. Outside of the Nemesis boss fight themes, a great rearrangement of Free From Fear, and some fun callbacks to the original 1999 RE3:N score, this is a largely uninteresting affair. It's not ambient enough to be as realistic and atmospheric as RE2make's score, it's not as forceful and oppressive as RE3:N's score, and it's not as intense and pulse-pounding as RE5's score. It tries to mix all three styles but doesn't do any of them especially well. It's a perfectly fine score that works well enough in-game but fails to make many memorable contrasts. I can remember a decent few memorable musical moments in RE2make, but almost none in RE3make. It's ultimately fine, but feels like a bit of a regression.

Resident Evil 3 remake is a solid game in many departments. It plays great, with fun gameplay mechanics and boss fights that offer a tense, exhilarating experience. The game features many writing upgrades over the original, great graphics with a lot of technical quality, and just generally is a polished, bug-free, and well-made game. Unfortunately, the game doesn't even come close to living up to the lofty expectations of the classic 1999 survival horror game and it suffers from many deep flaws. Nemesis has been kneecapped, feeling less dynamic than the original '90s PSX game, many memorable and iconic locations are cut from the game without any sort of equivalent replacement, a serious lack of difficulty even on hardcore mode, a version of Jill that is less interesting and developed, impressive graphical features of the prior game have been heavily downgraded, and the score is not as oppressive as the original or as atmospheric as it's immediate predecessor. It's still an alright game despite this, I had my fun with it and I can see myself revisiting it at some point, but I struggle to recommend this past RE fans like myself.

Have you ever played a game you wanted to love? A game whose peaks left you awe-inspired? A game whose lows left you frustrated? A game that makes a definitive artistic impression, but you wish was more successful at its own goals? I've played a few games like that, but none I wanted to like more than Thief: The Dark Project. Looking Glass Studios' next hugely influential title after their magnum-opus System Shock, Thief wasn't the first game where stealth played a prominent role, but it helped to codify many core tenants of the genre and would inspire an unbelievable amount of games to come. Thief is a game that is largely successful at presenting a highly oppressive, unsettling atmosphere and nuanced, innovative stealth mechanics but buckles somewhat under the weight of inconsistent level design and creativity.

Molding the rest of the stealth genre forever, Thief's game design deservedly gets praised relentlessly. Familiarizing concepts such as sound propagation, light and darkness mechanics, and NPCs reacting to unscripted events, Thief has no shortage of innovative design philosophies that make playing through its best levels engaging and tense. The game's best levels, such as The Sword and Assassins, give the player sprawling, huge levels that allow you to bob and weave between light and shadow, leap between carpet and loud tile, and clobber unsuspecting guards on the back of the head. Guards will react to small things being out of place, such as a door being open or a major object being out of place, and the game's best levels intelligently make great use of light and sound to make the stealth experience both immersive and stressful. The game does a great job of making you feel like a thief, sneaking around and shoving ungodly amounts of gold into your pockets. To say that few games are often as stressful and tense as Thief at its best is a massive compliment. You're given a veritable sandbox in terms of your toolset, with different arrows that do different things. Broadheads damage, water arrows take out torches, moss arrows soften your footsteps, rope arrows scale buildings, gas arrows are instant non-lethal takedowns, noisemaker arrows distract, and fire arrows essentially serve as the Thief equivalent of a rocket launcher. This toolset gives you a large amount of freedom in terms of how you want to approach levels and it makes the experience all the more fun. The combat and sword fighting, while typically discouraged, is more physics-based than most melee combat from this era and is surprisingly a lot of fun. The Sword has to be one of the best levels in any game I've ever played - its tricks and traps throughout an increasingly warped and surreal level while demanding the most out of the player is highly memorable and few games can claim to have an equivalent.

The problem is that only a good third of Thief's levels show off the game's complex systems and grand potential. Half of Thief's levels are sort of whatever, they're mostly remnants from the game's development when stealth wasn't a focus for the team or otherwise constrained by strange design decisions. A lot of Thief's levels aren't focused on stealth at all, and moreso resemble adventure gameplay you'd see in something like Tomb Raider (which was probably an inspiration, seeing as it's directly referenced in the game). This isn't inherently a bad thing, after all, variety is the spice of a pleasant gaming experience, but the game doesn't really replace the stealth with anything all that interesting. You're wandering around large levels collecting loot and bonking burricks for the most part, and while that's perfectly tolerable and not exactly unpleasant, it's a far cry in quality from the game's peaks. I'd say The Lost City is probably the most effective of these because it's more demanding of your observational skills and use of rope arrows, but it's still just an alright level. Only a couple of these levels are downright bad, though, so it's not a total loss. The Haunted Cathedral isn't a bad level in terms of design per se but the absurd gold requirements and placement made it thoroughly unfun to play after I had accomplished everything else. Return to the Cathedral is downright rotten, though, having to go through a series of boring fetch quests for a ghostly chud with massive amounts of backtracking, high-level enemies, and an ungodly amount of zombies with not nearly enough holy water to go around. These levels hardly spoil the experience but at their best, they're not even close to as imaginative as the game's best levels, and at worst are downright hair-pulling.

Narratively speaking Thief: The Dark Project isn't a game with layered characters or intricate plotting. For the most part, the scenario just serves as a background for why exactly you're doing what you are. You're introduced to a few characters and none of them other than Garrett, the protagonist, get much screentime at all. This is fine, Thief's narrative gets by on other aspects, and halfway through the game the seemingly disjointed and unconnected narrative does end up coalescing into something intriguing if still somewhat sparse. As far as the scenario-writing goes, the plot twist of Constantine, an eccentric and lonesome lord, actually being the ancient pagan deity known as The Trickster was a very cool surprise and I wish I didn't have that spoiled beforehand. Thanks, Thief Wiki (entirely my fault). It's foreshadowed incredibly subtly by NPC dialog and occasional memos you find throughout the game, and it is a great narrative reward for being so nosey as a thief should be. I love how Garrett goes from stealing prized items from crazy rich lords to accidentally stumbling into a horrifying and esoteric secret that could potentially ruin the whole planet. It's the type of "holy shit" plot scaling that actually works instead of being shocking for the sake of it, and ultimately I like how Garett saves the world by doing the one thing he's good at: stealing. The worldbuilding is fairly cool and each level has an opening text crawl that elaborates on the different philosophies of each faction, which is shown very ominiously I might add. Garrett himself is like if you took any 90s PC game protagonist and made him a reclusive, misanthropic loner instead of a badass action hero. He's quippy and consistently hilarious and while one could argue that might detract from the otherwise gloomy atmosphere it's not exactly uncommon for people to cope with extreme stress with humor, so it makes sense for his character. He's one of the more memorable late-90s game characters for sure. The game's memos give you a good sense of what's been going on in the world and lend it a realistic feeling, however, there's not exactly an "itchy tasty" equivalent in terms of memorability. They're very solid but aren't super memorable, and that's fine.

I'm not going to sugarcoat it - even for a late-90s PC game, Thief is exceptionally ugly. If you look at the release slate for 1998, there are plenty of games for both PCs and consoles that look vastly better graphically no contest. Thief is a game that might have large levels, necessitating some compromises, but asset quality is ridiculously poor across the board. Character models are made of few polygons and feature little points of articulation. Zombies, for example, have no animation for reanimating from the dead, they just simply revert to their idle pose in a jerky and unfinished-looking way. Texture quality is visibly extremely pixelated and often resembles a PSX game instead of bleeding edge PC visuals (and even then, there are better-looking PSX games from the same year). Beyond stuff like quality, texture application is often nonsensical. There's a particular texture that seemingly implies an entire balcony and set of windows, but almost every time it's used it's in areas where that would be impossible to be the case, especially when you can go behind them and see that for a fact. Considering how much thought Looking Glass put into the architecture representing the personalities and ideologies of the individual factions, the lack of care when it comes to texturework is disappointing. Environments are detailed well enough and smaller props are understandably low-poly. The only area Thief stands out is its lighting engine, which was entirely necessary for the gameplay to work, so it's good they got it down. Shadow and light are distinctly visually defined (maybe the light meter on the HUD could use some tweaking) and Thief's contrast-heavy look is often rather striking. This extends to the game's mixture of drawn and CGI cutscenes, which make great cinematic use of silhouette, lighting, and cinematography to hide the limitations of late-90s animation tech.

The graphics may be somewhat poor, but I can't fault the art direction, which features a unique mixture of low-tech and steampunk-esque visuals and environments. While buildings and cathedrals look straight out of the Middle Ages, the game is defined by its vague mixture of electricity, steam-based technology, and unclear magic. The world is seemingly in a strange transitionary phase; on the precipice of great technological revolution as seen by the limited amounts of electric technology yet still in some sense clinging to a past that no longer exists. It's cool that you have people walking around dressed as knights with swords, but you can also whip out an arrow designed to combust in a blaze of fire. The game's aesthetic and atmosphere are haunting, not a single place feels populated with friendly people and the game is often quite isolating and morose. Eric Brosius is often known for his similarly excellent work on System Shock 2, though his prior work for Thief is decidedly less "listenable". The music he composed for the game consists largely of ambiance, keyboard drones, and occasional bursts of electronic and drum and bass. It's difficult to tell where Brosius' score comes in and where his ambiance takes precedence, and to me, that's a hallmark of great ambient music composition. The Bonehoard's theme conveys a sense of extreme loneliness befitting of the maze of the undead it became. The Cragscleft Prison's thumping percussion and holy chanting echo the ongoing religious march of the Hammerites. Small electronic flourishes play when you make progress in Assassins. Some of the sounds in Return to the Cathedral wouldn't be out of place in Silent Hill. It's an incredibly disturbing canvas and while I personally would not call Thief a horror game, I can at least understand the argument for saying so.

Thief: The Dark Project is a game that deserves its status as one of the greatest video games of all time. Yet, simultaneously, it is proof that a game deserving that title does not mean it is without major flaws. The innovative stealth design, immersive game mechanics, unique art direction, interesting narrative, and haunting soundscape are laudable, but the wildly inconsistent level design, lack of creativity in the adventure levels, and poor graphics even for the time are noticeable enough to make me genuinely sit down and think about the rating I'd give the game. Ultimately, I think Thief holds up rather well and is a very good immersive sim despite these flaws, but these flaws are hard to ignore. It's not exactly what I'd use to introduce people to the genre but for pre-existing genre enthusiasts, it's an essential play not just for its importance but for its many qualities.