The only criticism I can make about Ghost Trick is that it's very done when it's done. This is barely even a criticism! Every aspect of it is so tightly wrapped up, tied into a perfect knot, with no answers left and every aspect explained. It's like a good whodunnit, and once you know who done it, well, that's sort of it isn't it!

But imagine it's the best whodunnit you've ever read, and it's also an extremely clever point and click adventure with the verbage of a contraption game. Imagine it has the best dog who is the goodest boy and an author pet-insert. No actually, the dog is just the writer's dog, and he's such a good boy.

Try to play it without spoilers because the game has so many plot twists! And they're all so fun, so enjoyable, so delicious! The characters are fun and a delight.

I've written about Infra before, and I still stand by everything I said there, but I wanted to go more into depth about why in particular this really impacted me out of everything I played this year.

I played a lot of extremely video-gamey games this year. I ground through Vampire Survivors, I relearned how much I fucking love pinball, I attempted to catch up on Destiny 2 and eventually gave up when PlayStation fucked them, and I played a bunch of AAA and point and click games with my girlfriends.

But Infra is the game which really captured my brain in a way that fundamentally changed my opinion of what I want out of games. Infra made me feel comfortable cheating through Alan Wake's sloggish combat. It reminded me how much I fucking love adventure games. It reminded me how my least favorite part of Amnesia games was the fucking monsters. And it showed me a type of game I never thought could be played straight: The infrastructure thriller.

Anybody familiar with the late-00s era of gaming is probably familiar with Viscera Cleanup Detail, and infrastructure thrillers have been sort of caught in a twee physics-comedy era ever since. Infrastructure, something that is vitally important to real spaces and generally only scenery in video games, is usually treated as an avenue for comedy in games. Space is never given a sense of vibrancy, reality, and depth, for the sake of life. It's all for fun gags about physics objects bouncing around, or to add tension to guys shooting at you, or to make two sweaty men look even grosser as they climb out of a dumpster.

But Infra is so confident, so made with love, and dedicated to putting you squarely in the shoes of a site inspector for a city architecture firm. You certainly go above and beyond the call of duty, eventually scrambling through a dam, a bunker, and a nuclear plant, but none of this is with the tension of guns or aliens or "enemies" beyond incompetent politicians and corrupt business mogals. And it's a deeply funny game at times. There's reasons I've been caught shitchosting about Infra multiple times here.

And most of all, this is perhaps the only true liminal game I've played. Backrooms content has exploded in popularity lately as an extension of analog horror, and all of it is basically mediocre at best. The best Backrooms game of 2023 was My House (.wad), and literally not a single "Backrooms" game I played featuring the titular title was any good at all. (I also played Anemoiapolis this year, and it was quite good, but not as good as Infra.) But the best liminal game I've played is Infra.

"Liminal" does not mean "scary empty place". Liminal refers to spaces whose purpose is transient - people are meant to travel through them, but not stay in them. You're not meant to pay attention to them. And Infra makes you not only look at these spaces, and pay attention to them - it requires you to care about them. It wants you to look at the wounds on the walls, see where the bones are cracking, listen to where the ventilation wheezes. It understands that liminal is not inherently scary - it's definitely alien, but it's also a part of life. It's quiet, and a little lonely, and a little beautiful in its own way.

And yeah, the first two acts of the game have some bad gameplay. Please, please, endure the raft ride if you generally like video games. I promise it gets better. The computers we've built can make spaces like this feel real. They can make you think about the cities we live in as breathing, real places, with all the guts and back rooms as actual places. I need more games like this. I crave it.

Oates has been developing a fascinating little series of RPGMaker horror games with an incredibly heartwarming edge of sincerity to them. Using a consistent stack of plugins and gorgeous consistent artwork (often re-used between games, to excellent effect), a small world of surreal melancholy is slowly built out, with supernatural monsters projecting the insecurities and struggles of modern life.

Sorry We're Open is the gutpunch game released this year, a game about being a faceless manager of a retail store, carrying your crew through day after day of absurd confrontations with mundane customers and supernatural poltergeists. You gotta keep the store clean, you gotta keep your crew alive, all the while the real evil of Corporate Management hangs over you like an eldritch vampire.

The only winning move is to realize the horrors of capitalism and leave. The game uses its multiple endings in short succession to deliver its true payoff, and is absolutely worth playing through to 100%.

Its thesis is worn directly on its sleeve: Even the manager of a store has far more solidarity with the workers under them than the capitalist monsters running the show. And if you don't realize that, you will die a husk drained entirely of life.

The best folk outsider art fps ever made. No game LOOKS like this, plays like this, or feels like this. It's wonderful

I recommend watching this video about his dev process because it's honestly very inspiring: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIjt1mKWn4o

This dude put all his hobbies into a game and it whips. It feels so personal and intimate with both its interests and the folklore it is inspired by, whisking you away on a fantasy journey unlike any other. We need more folk games, games steeped in history and personhood and the stories your grandmother told you about as a child.