Horizon: Forbidden West takes on the daunting task of following up a successful debut with great enthusiasm. It stays true to everything that made the original interesting and fun, and while not all of its gameplay additions feel necessary, the impact of the ones that do work far outweigh the frustrations of those that don't. The graphics are worth the price of admission alone and exploring this vibrant, living world is an absolute blast.

Aloy could certainly lighten up a bit and the character progression system leaves something to be desired, but when all is said and done, Horizon: Forbidden West raises the bar for super high budget, eye-watering visual fidelity, blockbuster open-world action RPGs. And then Elden Ring came out...

Let me provide you with a tale of my time with Weird West. A fairly early lead on the trail of finding Jane's missing husband took me to the estate of Mayor Weekes, a slimy, ill-omened man who grows tobacco in a walled estate. By this point, I had learned that Weekes is trafficking people to flesh-eating monsters called Sirens. He claims to know where Jane's husband has been taken but wants you to clear out a nearby rival tobacco farm as payment for the information.

Screw that, I thought to myself and told him I'd think on it. The first opportunity I got I started to explore the mayor's estate. The guards would threaten to murder me on the spot if I went to enter any of the other buildings, but I had noticed the mayor's residence had a balcony and on a whim figured I'd try and get up there. I jumped onto some crates, which let me climb onto the roof of an adjacent single-story building and then leap across to the mayor's balcony, where I found an unlocked door. This let me into the mayor's upstairs bedroom which I promptly stripped of all valuables, including a cell key I found in his bedside table.

This was particularly interesting as I hadn't seen any cells in my exploration of the estate so far. Thinking there must be a hidden underground lockup somewhere, I made my way over to one of the buildings I hadn't been inside yet. Booking it past a woman scrubbing the floor, I went into a storeroom, walked passed some shelves, and there it was, a hatch in the floor. Down I went, where I found a man in a cell. Once he realised I wasn't there to further his torment, I asked him if he knew of my husband and where he might have gone. The prisoner told me that Mr. Bell had stolen a gun and escaped, but due to various complications had made his way to a new location.

So I had a new lead, and I didn't have to do the mayor's dirty work. This whole sequence was such a blast because the game gave me absolutely zero indication that there was any other way to get the information I needed without clearing out the rival tobacco farm for this evil man. No objective markers, no lines of dialogue, it would've been quite easy for me to have gotten to the bedroom but completely missed the key, therefore never even thinking to look for a cell.

This is just one example from one particular quest in one particular chapter of the game. It's impossible to say from only one playthrough, but the potential amount of branching choices and consequences in the main story alone is mind-boggling.

Weird West is an exciting experiment from a fresh studio made up of industry veterans. It's one of those games that I'm glad exists, even if it doesn't completely blow me away with every aspect of its design. There's a fair bit of jank and a bug here and there, and the procedurally generated fluff that sort of hovers just beyond the light of your campfire may sap some of the 'immersive' from 'immersive sim'.

Despite this, Weird West delivers an intriguing world with refreshingly complex quest design and a unique narrative structure that lets you try out five different roles all in one story. It's an impressive debut from WolfEye studios and a fitting tribute to the genre that put their founders on the map.

Trek to Yomi is a 2.5D side-scrolling action game where you play as Hiroki, a young samurai lord on a quest for revenge. As you can tell from the screenshots the game is entirely in black and white, and many areas feature fixed camera angles allowing for a delightful focus on the artful framing of scenes. This aping of epic samurai cinema from the 50s and 60s is Trek to Yomi's biggest strength, which is why it's such a shame that the rest of the game largely fails to impress.

The level of detail, especially in the opening few levels is commendable. Trek to Yomi makes a great first impression as you weave through the marketplaces, warehouses, taverns, and alleyways of Hiroki's hometown. Townsfolk mutter stories about their families, the state of trade, or rumours of bandits attacking another town. A merchant's wagon collapses as you pass, spilling his wares onto the ground and if you stop to speak to the poor man Hiroki will offer to help him clean up later. These small events give the sense that this game will be rich in story, with plenty of narrative details and side events to be discovered by those paying close attention.

Then the bandits launch an attack on Hiroki's town, and the true focus of the game emerges: combat, combat, and more combat. From roughly the third level onwards my hopes for the game being a linear but dynamic, story-rich side-scroller with lots of spectacular scripted events quickly fell away. What eventuates is an extremely uneven combat gauntlet where the story very abruptly takes a backseat.

So why is it a problem that a samurai action game consists mostly of combat? A fair question, let's get into it.

You have light and heavy attacks, and can block, parry, dodge roll, and perform combos. At first, this feels great, capturing the essence of the deadly balancing act that is a samurai duel; if you make one wrong move, whether that's parrying or attacking early or leaving your back exposed, you'll quickly find yourself bleeding to death in the dirt.

Unfortunately, as the game goes on, the combat fails to evolve in an engaging way. In fact, the level design, enemy variety, and especially boss fights actively work against what makes the combat an interesting premise in the first place.

You unlock new combos through exploration or defeating particular enemies (which is a supremely arbitrary way to reward a player when defeating said enemy is the only way to progress) as well as a handful of ranged attacks. The combos range from useless to overpowered, and I found myself sticking to one or two that when utilised correctly, would stun enemies, leaving them open to a one-hit-kill execution.

Because stunning and executing enemies in this way is so simple and efficient, there's absolutely zero reason to engage with the other facets of the game's combat. A combat system is at its best when you're encouraged to adapt to new situations as your skillset expands or you're met with different kinds of enemies, but Trek to Yomi never really goes there. It's quite content to throw the same stuff at you again and again for the entirety of its 5-6 hour duration.

It would be one thing if Trek to Yomi's combat was just boring and repetitive, it's another thing entirely that several specific encounters, and most of the boss fights, are borderline broken. Whether it's the I-frames of your dodge roll being completely impossible to gauge, an enemy's attack animation being nigh unreadable, or the hitbox of an enemy's sword extending further than it should, I rarely felt challenged, and I frequently felt frustrated.

In addition, Trek to Yomi commits the cardinal sin of having boss fights not really requiring the player to use all the skills they've learned up until that point. Parrying, blocking, and in some cases even dodge rolling become entirely useless. What eventuates are extremely frustrating battles of attrition that rely mostly on getting lucky with which attacks the boss decides to use.

Now, there was a day one patch for the game that I was able to download in the hours leading up to the review embargo. It's possible that they've polished a lot of the issues I've mentioned above but, because there is no chapter select, I am unable to go back into the game and check the boss fights without playing through the whole thing again. Aside from checking out improvements from patches, no chapter select also makes it impossible to return to specific levels to clean up any collectibles you might have missed, which is a bummer.

The story takes a supernatural turn around halfway through, but this has essentially no impact on the actual gameplay. The setting and enemy types change a little, but nothing particularly interesting is done with either. The visual aesthetic goes from having a distinct, clear focus on evoking black and white samurai movies to a generic ghostly vibe with ethereal caves and wastelands. The black and white at that point becomes an obstacle to visual quality rather than an enhancement. It's a really perplexing pivot especially when Trek to Yomi starts off so strong in this regard.

There's a particularly egregious sequence towards the end of the game where you must traverse a series of floating rocky islands in a spooky void, but everything on the islands is a mish-mash of objects and building styles from earlier levels in the game. It really just feels like padding.

Beyond the underwhelming supernatural side of the game, the core story ends up feeling familiar and vapid. The beginning promises a little more, there are scripted events like farmers trying to stop bandits smashing through the town gates, or a horseman cutting down a man in front of horrified peasants. That sense of being part of an unfolding narrative gradually slips away and by the time you venture into Yomi itself, it's gone altogether. This is instead replaced with endless self-pitying monologues from Hiroki and the previously mentioned repetitive gameplay.

The annoyances unfortunately don't end there either. The game uses a checkpoint system and a lot of these feel needlessly punishing. Say there's a tough combat encounter shortly after a simple puzzle, every time you die in that tough encounter you will also have to repeat the puzzle. Or, there might be a puzzle that results in death if you fail to solve it in time that follows a tough combat encounter. You may get through the combat only to die to a stupid sneaky puzzle and have to do both all over again. I really don't understand what would've been lost by autosaving immediately before each combat encounter.

With all of that said, Trek to Yomi's musical score is another strong point I want to mention. Composers Cody Johnson and Yoko Honda prioritised authenticity and historical accuracy by only using instruments that were available during Japan's Edo period. This adds a lot to the experience and is definitely something worth celebrating about this game.

I really wanted to adore Trek to Yomi and on paper it does everything right, combining my love of mythology, history, cinema, and video games. It gives a strong first impression with its stunning visual style, deceptively linear, intricate level design, and thrilling combat. Before too long however the façade comes crashing down and what starts out feeling like a lovingly curated, experimental cinematic homage, turns into a clunky, visually bland slog. Add to this some seemingly endless, repetitive combat, no eventuating story to speak of, and near-broken boss fights to round out the experience. With great and genuine dismay, I must admit that Trek to Yomi is the utter definition of style over substance.

Card Shark is UK studio Nerial Limited's first release after being acquired by Devolver Digital in 2021. Known for the Reigns series, Nerial Limited has brought its card-themed, meta-gameplay stylings to the French Age of Enlightenment. Combining an eye-catching, paper-cut-out visual style and deviously satisfying card-trick minigames with a surprisingly engaging story of royal intrigue, Card Shark is the very definition of effective simplicity.

Card Shark sees you take on the role of a mute tavern keep who, after being roped into helping a Count cheat at cards, is swept up in an escalating series of events in a jolly but tense adventure all over pre-revolutionary France. You'll swindle fellow rogues and gullible nobles alike as you help the Count investigate the royal conspiracy of the Twelve Bottles of Milk, a secret that has the potential to shake France to its core.

The stakes feel high right out the gate, and the desire to learn and master your new repertoire of deceptions never wears off. Before long you'll be pulling off false shuffles, card marking, sleight of hand and even swapping out entire decks. It's worth noting that you won't actually be playing any card games, the gameplay focuses purely on the tricks that allow you to give the best hands to the player of your choice.

The way it works is like this: as you perform the various 'mini-games' required to pull off a trick, a bar along the bottom of the screen representing your opponent's level of suspicion will slowly fill up. If this bar completely fills up before you've pulled off your trick you will be caught, and the consequences can be lethal. Don't fret though, death is not permanent in Card Shark, and some say even Death herself is partial to a good round of cards...

These mini-games require simple button inputs but get more and more complicated as the game goes on. Eventually, you'll need to tie several tricks together in a sequence, relying on your memory just as much as your dexterity.

One of Card Shark's greatest strengths is how fresh each 'mission' feels despite the fact that you're engaging with fairly similar mini-games throughout. The way the narrative is woven seamlessly into the gameplay is truly remarkable and there are twists and turns around every corner.

It doesn't matter how much you've prepared a particular trick, Card Shark often requires you to improvise with minimal instruction. Adapting on the fly successfully, and thereby avoiding being sent to the Bastille or shot in an empty field somewhere, is extremely gratifying.

The soundtrack was recorded with a live orchestra and is appropriate to the setting, with lots of evocative strings, operatic singing, and even some xylophone. It adds a lot to the jolly-adventure-tinged-with-danger vibes of the game.

There were one or two instances where I was caught red-handed due to sticky controls or a UI bug, rather than any error I made on my own. Occasionally, the UI would suddenly give no indication of what my goal was or what the correct button to press was and so I would inadvertently run out the timer. Other times some stickiness with the control stick lead to me sending a winning card to the wrong person. One slip-up can be all it takes to fail a mission in Card Shark, especially towards the end of the game. This didn't happen often, but it did happen enough to be frustrating.

Card Shark is an indie game that works brilliantly within the bounds of its scope and budget. The premise may be simple, but the execution is masterful. Pulling off the many different card tricks has you feeling like a veteran swindler in no time at all, and the story will keep you hooked until the very end. Small issues with the UI and controls may occasionally get in the way, but it's not enough to ruin what is otherwise a wonderful time.