Fuck I love short video games. I love long ones, too, but there's something about a short god damn video game. Ending exactly as it began, the point firmly in hand.

I had a relatively unique experience with Hollow Knight, given its trajectory and explosive popularity. I played it on the day of release with next to zero expectations. Despite being a Kickstarter backer, I hadn't read a single update in the roughly three years since the campaign launched, so late February 2017 arrived and I figured I should at least try it.

I spent two hours thinking it's nice. Pleasant. Well made, sure, impressive even! Presumably tiny budget, absolutely tiny team, they're doing a lot with a little. As the hours pass, I start wondering when exactly I'll stop being impressed. There reasonably shouldn't be this much game. So much of it shouldn't be this unreasonably good.

There's an alarming number of soft thresholds where your attention is tested. Not directly, or loudly, but it becomes increasingly clear that Team Cherry crafted a world—and tools to investigate, engage—that welcomes scrutiny, and stands alongside the best in the medium. I'd refer to FromSoftware, but the comparison is approaching threadbare at this point.

I came back this year to finally try the free updates, and it holds up. Easily. I consider myself lucky to have had an unburdened, uninformed first experience, but the game can take a punch. Expectation is a challenge, and Hollow Knight is ready for it.

There's an incredible sense of weight to Lincoln's action. Light or heavy, the situation demands and he supplies. When the bullets go flying and some goon makes a concerted effort to dramatically fling himself over a railing– sorry, but how am I not supposed to love that shit?

This game rules. Flaws? More than a few, but I'd play ten more games of Lincoln Clay carving a path of destruction through racist trash.

I wish I had anything meaningfully original to say about this. It's daunting, in more ways than one. I could stumble through praise for its clockwork construction, the heartrending setpieces, and its admirable, probably unjustified confidence that you're going to figure this out—whoever you are, whatever "this" is. But that shit rings hollow, because there's nothing I can say that captures how important I think it is.

Outer Wilds is one of the most beautiful experiences I've ever had. It's going to stay with me for the rest of my life.