HOP TOP meshes the enemy formations and attack patterns from games like Galaxian and the nonstop jumping from games like Icy Tower and Doodle Jump to create a new kind of arcade-inspired title. The need to watch your footing while making sure to blast enemies attacking from above creates a tense but easily digestible multitasking challenge where both the top and bottom of the screen are of equal importance. Each of the game's enemy types provide unique threats but are all initially vulnerable as they come swooping into formation, similar to the aliens in Galaxian. This games the start of each round extra important, as this is where you can kill a lot of the threats before they have a chance to retaliate. Unfortunately, HOP TOP features a pet peeve of mine where you're given an auto fire option but said auto fire isn't nearly as quick as manually mashing the hell out of the fire button. Like many games of its kind, there's no inherent reason to stop firing in most cases. A couple of the game's stages feature platforms that'll collapse on top of you if recklessly fired upon, but they're few and far between. Mashing till your sore shouldn't be a key part of your game loop but if you're going after highscores, it'll have to be in HOP TOP. This becomes extra obnoxious thanks to the orange enemy type that quickly flies offscreen, only to reappear at the bottom of the screen and zoom its way back into formation. As the game progresses, you're given so little time to hit these guys that they become a real pace killer. They only stay in formation for around half a second after the first dozen rounds, and that makes them occasionally impossible to hit when the layout of ther platforms aren't in your favor, leading to more waiting. Thankfully the game does have a counter against lollygagging players by automatically scrolling the screen up if a player doesn't do it themselves for long enough, but it's a shame the game itself isn't immune to halting the player at times.

As far as balance goes, HOP TOP isn't easy but there's some leeway when it comes to generous hitboxes and the occasional appearance of power-ups that alter HOP's shots. These shot modifications can easily end a round of enemies before they even get a chance to form up, but the frequency of these power-ups (as well as score items like balloons) seems inconsistent. Maybe there's an untold logic behind their spawn rate but I would frequently play for 10 or more rounds with no power-ups in sight, while getting 2 or 3 within the span of just a handful. These power-ups don't feel vital to your success so I never felt my runs were severely affected by the game's willingness to hand me convenient power-ups, but it's a strange aspect that could maybe use some finetuning.

Otherwise, I was surprised by how well realized HOP TOP is. While you'd probably never mistake it for an actual arcade game from the 80's, the paintjob is more than solid enough to sell you on the premise. The game features two main modes; an arcade mode meant to play within the limitations of those older arcade titles (so you're given less variety in enemy waves and power-up) that feels about as pure as any golden era arcade game, and a campaign mode with a larger selection of level hazards, backed by gorgeous 32-bit art. Games last roughly 5-9 minutes from my experience, so it's always tempting to go for one more game. Hopefully we see more games try to mix and match multiple arcade classics.

Ape Escape is a classic early 3D title that favors experimentation over refinement. It's two main goals are to demonstrate novel uses of the dualshock's analog sticks and to be a collectathon where the collectibles themselves offer a unique challenge. While Ape Escape partially succeeds in these goals, it's only at a surface level. Despite being a first party title, Ape Escape makes a good argument for why all expansive 3D platformers of the 5th generation that were on the PSX would've benefitted from being made for the N64 instead. This might be one of the best games of the 5th gen I've played that suffers horrendously from such a small draw distance. Actually scanning the environment for apes is largely a fool's errand when you can't see 20 feet in front of you. The aggressive texture warping doesn't help either and makes the game a bit of an eyesore to play at times. Outside of Spyro, I don't think any PSX platformers I've played have managed to avoid the common stumbling points of the system's limitations.

The game's reliance on the dualshocks' analog sticks is probably the best counterargument to the game being a better fit for Nintendo's console, but I don't think the game makes a good enough case for its unique control layout. Being a collectathon, you're expected to freely move in all directions and search for secrets. Placing camera controls on the D-pad makes the process of simply keeping the camera looking forward more of a hassle than it has any right to be but that's not really a deal breaker for me. Bad cameras and 3D platformers go hand-in-hand, after all. My real issue is how the right stick is used for your assortment of gadgets, but very few of these would lose much if they were instead mapped to a simple button press. What does rotating the stick to use the hula-hoop accomplish? What's the point of flicking the stick to use the Ultra Hand? If performing these actions is supposed to further immerse you into the game's world, then I think all the times your gadgets fail to register your inputs should balance things out and make the effort moot. The only exceptions are the Monkey Radar and the RC car. Both of these allow the player to move and use the device simultaneously, which is of little use for the radar but admittedly is necessary for a few puzzles with the RC car. You could still map these gadgets to a single button and lock the player's movement during their use and the experience wouldn't change THAT drastically. While initially charming, this is a rare case where I can't really justify the unorthodox use of the right stick.

"But what about those funny apes?" These little gremlins are what would happen if you gave the power stars in Super Mario 64 legs, and maybe an uzi for good measure. Actually collecting an ape is a tad more involved than grabbing a standard collectable since they'll flee you on sight. It's up to you to decide whether you want to sneak up and get the drop on them or just chase them down like a rabid dog. The most interesting apes are the ones hidden behind unique fortifications. Sometimes this'll be a cage you need to find a way to open, while other times an ape might be riding the back of an animal and you'll have to knock them off. Without going back to count, I'd wager there's around 20 or so apes hidden in one-of-a-kind manners. With 204 monkeys to capture, these outliers add some nice variety but aren't enough to stop the act of catching monkeys feel a bit rote after a few worlds. Too many monkeys are placed on small platforms with nowhere to run, making the whole act of having to chase after your collectibles feel arbitrary. I'll give credit to the game for giving each monkey a name and a small one sentence description. They tend to be pretty generic but occasionally you'll find a funny fact, like how one is afraid of the ocean, despite being in the water-themed world. These extra details, along with the impeccable soundtrack and colorful environments, help give the game some extra character which does go a long way in a subgenre that tends to focus so heavily on this front. I only wish the game leaned harder into the sneaking and chasing aspects and made more of the monkeys stand out instead of so many of them feeling like a formality. Still, I had a fun time and would recommend Ape Escape if you're looking for more early 3D platforming fun.

Side Tangent: The hardest thing in this game for me was the collapsing bridge in the hot springs level. You need to run at that bridge perfectly straight on or you ain't making it.

There was a point in the 7th console gen where every stealth franchise had to dumb itself down in a vain attempt to nab more sales. Splinter Cell Conviction is probably the attempt that got the most positive reception, but considering it alienated a lot of Splinter Cell fans and is rarely mentioned these days, it's probably safe to say it had a negative impact on the franchise.

There are two ways to play Conviction. The first is the way the devs intended, and it gets old fast. Conviction is a "solved game", where nearly every encounter has one dominant solution. Conviction introduced the "Mark and Execute" system, where Sam can gain Marks by performing a melee kill/grab (the amount of Marks you can hold onto varies depending on the gun you're carrying, but it only ever takes one kill to fill up all your Marks). The player spends these Marks by pressing the Execute button, essentially an automatic win button which lets Sam kill any and all enemies in his field of view (and outside of it, with a little camera finesse). Conviction almost never has enemies patrolling hallways or tiny rooms. Foes are usually grouped together in vaguely disguised combat arenas, and often must all be wiped out before you're allowed to progress. The interwoven paths and open structure of Chaos Theory is long behind us, and killing enemies is now mandatory.

This lack of variety ensures that the player is going into every combat scenario with the same gameplan: Find a straggler, waltzing in some corner of the arena, and kill them with a melee attack. This provides a full set of Marks, which you can then use on most, if not all of the remaining baddies. You'd be surprised just how far this single strategy will take you. Even if there are too many enemies to kill in a single Execute, getting another one should rarely pose a challenge. Enemies have a startled phase in between spotting you and actually attacking, giving you plenty of leeway if you get caught. Maybe if a single melee kill only earned you one Mark at a time, this system would be less subject to abuse. Judging by developer interviews though, I get the impression Executes really are supposed to be this stupidly overpowering. Sam's list of gadgets has shrunken from previous titles, but he still has a fair amount of them, not that you'll ever feel that compelled to use them. Conviction wants you to feel like Jason Bourne, and it wants to accomplish that feeling with a single button, game depth or balancing be damned.

The second way to play Conviction is to just treat it like a third-person shooter. The developers must have thought this was an acceptable way to play, considering there's an entire level where you play as Sam's just-now-introduced war buddy Victor Coste, and he has none of the stealth prowess Sam does, making his short gameplay cameo a full-on cover shooter. Too bad the cover shooting feels pretty bad. On console, there's no aiming sensitivity options to speak of, or button mapping for that matter(I hope clicking the left thumbstick to reload doesn't sound too awkward!), so aiming feels slow and has a hefty amount of acceleration. Feedback isn't anything to write home about either, but I guess not every shooter can be Resident Evil 4. Most bizarrely, moving from cover-to-cover is handled by aiming towards a desired piece of cover, pressing A, and watching Sam automatically make a mad dash to the conveniently placed chest-high wall. I shouldn't have to explain why automating a crucial action, one that's often nail biting in other games, is a bad thing... but a 2010 IGN reviewer said this game has the best cover system that reviewer has ever used so fuck me I guess.

Regardless of how you tackle it, Conviction is a pretty easy game, even on the pretentiously named "Realistic" difficulty. You'll likely finish the story in around 5 to 6 hours, with most levels being blink and you'll miss it affairs. Normally I appreciate a short game, but Conviction manages to get old even before its short runtime comes to a close. More emphasis has been placed on the plot but it's filled with contrivances and characters talking as smugly as they can. It plays out more like a mediocre serial drama than anything of substance. Past Splinter Cell stories were by-the-number political thrillers but they had likable, surprisingly funny characters, with great camaraderie. Conviction is relatively joyless, both in it's characters and in its attempt at "revolutionizing" the stealth genre.

I recommend you check out my review of Mario Party 1 before reading this review

Mario Party 1 laid a strong foundation but had some crippling shortcomings. Thankfully, its immediate follow up would solve many of these with one key addition; Items. The biggest overall problem with MP1 was the lack of player agency on the board game front. Most turns consisted of you rolling the RNG dice and watching your character move X amount of spaces. Maybe a funny event would play out but you'd rarely have a say in any of it. The introduction of items in MP2 means there's an entirely new step to take at the start of most turns. Even if a player decides not to use their item on a given turn, that's still a decision they had to make. While small, the list of items covers some varied ground and most will have their uses at some point or another in any given match. You have movement-based items like the Mushrooms that double or triple your rolls, a Warp Block that makes you switch places with a random player, and a Magic Lamp that teleports you to the Star Space. Just in this selection alone you have a fair bit to consider, since your aqquirement of items is largely your call. You get to choose what item you want to purchase at the Shop and what item to nab in an Item Minigame.

This system is held back by only allowing players to hold one item at a time but this arguably aids the pacing. Giving players too many options can lead to long periods of waiting for a decision to be made but MP2 keeps it straightforward enough that you're unlikely to be waiting on anybody for too long. There is some unfortunate imbalance, such as the Magic Lamp being so universally useful, and the Plunder Chest (which lets a player take a random player's item) discouraging other players from nabbing items, but these blemishes aren't likely encourage negative player strategies. Thanks to the one item limit and item shops being fairly far apart from one another, players can't reliably hoard useful items.

Perhaps in response to how much more varied each match plays out thanks to these items, the boards themselves have largely become more homogenized. There's strong exceptions, with Horror Land and Bowser Land making key adjustments that shake things up just enough without harming the base board mechanics, but most boards are contempt with playing it safe. This thankfully means there's no bad outliers but with only 6 boards compared to the 8 in MP1, there's less to see on this front. Minigames have also become homogenized, as players cannot lose coins in standard minigames though some minigames still let players earn extra coins with skillful play. To make up for the standard minigames lacking in that 'fuck you' spirit of the original MP, the sequel introduces Battle and Duel minigames so players can still (usually involuntarely) lose coins in some select skirmishes. Some of the rougher, less friendly edges of MP1 have been smoothed over but the game isn't afraid to remind you that this is still Mario Party, where luck is just as important to a player's chances as skill and strategy are. If anything, Duel minigames and some items in particular encourage smart players to single out dangerous opponents in a way the original MP rarely allowed, outside of Boo.

Most good Mario Party entries are a mixture of playing it safe with established elements while including new mechanics that compliment the existing ones, instead of overriding them. Mario Party 2 does exactly that, which is a large part of why it's so beloved. When you think of classic Mario Party, this is likely one of the first titles that'll pop into your mind. That doesn't mean this is the definitive Mario Party title, though. That'll come later...

Skill
Strategy
Luck

These are the 3 core pillars every Mario Party game attempts to balance themselves around. Skill is required to win the majority of minigames, which will help give players massive coins leads to help them afford stars (and in later games, items). Strategy is required for the board game element. Players need to make smart decisions in order to traverse these perilous landscapes littered with spaces that can do good or ill when landed upon. Luck is the x-factor element that keeps everyone on their toes. It's when a player lands on Chance Time and has the ability to change the tides of battle in an instant. The final outcome is rarely predictable when everyone is playing their A game.

Everyone has a different idea on how important these cores are to the overall party experience. Some will insist that Mario Party is best as a vehicle for schadenfreude and little else, while others only desire the minigames and dislike any level of luck. Like most multiplayer titles, Mario Party only thrives when you're playing with the right people. People that can all agree on what makes for a fun party game. For me and my friend group, all three core pillars are equally important. A player's talent for sweeping minigames, knowledge for board traversal, and ability to go with the punches should all be rewarded in roughly equal regards. When one element is underplayed, or missing altogether, the whole experience tumbles.

Considering it was one of the first party games of its kind, I won't blame the developers at Hudson Soft for not striking this balance perfectly. What I will blame them for is making a utterly dull and uneventful title. Mario Party 1's largest issue is the lack of player agency. With boards that are mostly linear, and a complete lack of items to use, players rarely get to make an actual decision during the board game element. Most turns amount to each player rolling the dice and accepting whatever outcome the game gives them. It's a very hands-off experience where laughter and boasting in later Mario Party games is replaced by dead air. When you end up screwing over your buddy, you're rarely able to say you intended to do so. This lack of agency is compounded on by two of MP1's unique spaces. One is a 50/50 where you are either given an extra roll or have your next turn taken from you. Removing a player's turn should never be a punishment in a party game. All it accomplishes is removing one of the players from the antics and likely leading to them losing interest. The other space, Solo Minigame, is even worse. Does the idea of watching one of your friends play a minigame you and your other buds have no say in sound enticing? Regardless of the outcome, it's another element that distances the non-participants away from the game. Despite games of MP1 wrapping up quicker than most later installments, they often feel longer thanks to having so much downtime where no one, not even the current turn's player, feels like they're making a meaningful difference.

So the board element is a dud, but that still leaves us with 50 minigames. Sadly, this has got to be the most uneven batch of minigames I've ever played. Far, far too many of these games are unbalanced to a comical degree, making many of these a hopeless battle for one or several players. Perhaps it adds to the toxic chaos so many people believe to be the point of Mario Party, but I'd rather the cheering and screaming be from players actually outplaying eachother and not just from being given an unfair advantage. If you need an example of how dire some of these minigames are, one of them is a 1 vs 3 game where the one player picks a pipe to send a chest of coins down, hopefully onto themselves, while the three other players just... watch. That's the whole minigame.

One interesting element to the minigames is how rewards for winning vary depending on the minigame. Some minigames have a set reward for winning, while others let player earn bonus cash by collecting coins during the actual minigame. Some minigames will even punish losing players by taking away coins. It's unique, but let down by the previously mentioned selection of minigame. It's bad enough to loose at a poorly designed minigame but it stings even more when the game actually takes coins away from you as if you had any say in the matter.

Really, outside of the short length of most board playthroughs and the overly simplistic board elements meaning you don't have to explain much to a newcomer, there's very little to raise this game beyond trash status. If Mario Party 2 didn't immediately improve upon this game's foundation to a legendary degree I'd probably be even less forgiving of this game's faults. At least it lead to some great games down the line.

2006 wasn't a good year for me. Being on the autism spectrum, middle school was especially tough to adjust to. Everyone else was growing up around me, getting into more mature-rated games and talking about subject matter I wouldn't understand until much later. I was in 8th grade and had accepted that I wasn't going to fit in. I tried my best to hide my autism throughout 6th and 7th grade but everyone knew by then. Getting bullied and being sent to the principal's office because I wasn't paying attention in class was the norm. At this point in my life there was little for me to look forward to.

But as much as I wanted to give up, as much as I dreaded each day, I had to keep going. I had to.

Because Sonic The Hedgehog for the Xbox 360 was coming out soon.

I'm not saying Sonic The Hedgehog 2006 alone helped push me forward, or that I would have actually ended my life, but I was at a point where I desperately needed some joy and Sonic 06 was the next big thing to look forward to. Sonic 06 was THE reason I got an Xbox 360 and I loved it. As far as I was concerned, this was the biggest, most epic game I had played. A true showcase for what this new generation of consoles were capable of. It's not like I didn't notice the glitches, the long load times, or some of the more laughable aspects of its story. But all that stuff didn't matter to 14-year-old me. I beat all four stories, did all town missions, got all S ranks, and nabbed all of the achievements. Over the years, I've probably spent well over a few hundred hours playing this game. Admittedly, it's not a title I've gone back to much for well over a decade but there was a period where it might have been in my top 10 most played games of all time.

For most, Sonic 06 is seen as an appallingly unfinished train wreck of the highest caliber. Within that group however comes two wildly different opinions. Some have deemed the game unsalvageable and doomed to fail even if it had all the extra dev time in the world. The other opinion is that Sonic 06 could have been something truly special if given the extra time needed to finish it. Personally, I'm of the camp that there's simply too much wrong about 06 on a fundamental level for there to be much salvaged from it. Even fan projects like Project-06, meant to "fix" the game, do just as good a job highlighting the underlying issues (level design focused too heavily on scripted bits, an emphasis on dull combat that kills the flow, and "amigo characters" that feel redundant when put alongside the three main heroes) as it does showing any hidden potential.

What was once a title that brought me great joy and helped keep me going in a dark part of my life is now something I see as a huge mark against not only Sonic, but Sega's track record. A result of all the worst business practices Sega kept indulging in while floundering as a 3rd party publisher. An embarrassment that looms over every new Sonic release. A reminder that Sega will always choose the shortsighted and greedy option. I'm not entirely sure when my opinion on 06 started to shift but I think it was around my sophomore year in high school. By that point I had made new friends, felt more comfortable around others my age, and was generally just having a better time. I didn't need to lie to myself about Sonic 06 anymore.

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As terrible as it may be, I encourage anyone who hasn't played Sonic 06 to give it a try for themselves. While there might be dozens, if not hundreds of think pieces and video essays about it, most only look at the game on a surface level for shits and giggles. I think it's worth digging deeper and seeing for yourself what a fumble of this magnitude plays like. The history behind 06's development is nothing short of captivating as well but just make sure you do the homework yourself and don't bother with videos like Matt McMuscles "Wha Happun?" which unironically use GameFAQs console war forum posts as sources.

Few developers have gotten hit as hard by the never-ending console war as Rare. The moment Microsoft acquired Rare spelled doom for the reception of all their future games. It's impossible to undersell how much Rare carried Nintendo during the N64 era. If not by pure quality, then definitely by quantity. Nintendo themselves were slow to put out titles for a console with middling 3rd party support so Rare's unexplainable ability to pump 2 to 3 games out per year was nothing short of vital for Nintendo to not be completely overshadowed by the new kid on the block, Sony. Rare's games meant a lot to Nintendo fans so the moment they jumped ship was seen as nothing short of betrayal and has led to a seemingly never-ending belief amongst the gaming public that Rare "lost their way" once they left the big N.

As someone who didn't touch a Rare game till 2008 with the original Banjo-Kazooie I just wanna throw my hat in the ring and call bullshit on this take. Not all of Rare's games were gold on the N64 and not all their games after the buyout were lackluster. If anything, I think Rare has been an inconsistent developer ever since they entered the scene. Without the nostalgia goggles, it's hard to really vibe with a lot of Rare's output. For every Donkey Kong Country 2, there were 3 Jet Force Gemini.

So with all that buildup hopefully you won't come slash my tires when I tell you that Grabbed by the Ghoulies is one of Rare's best.

Ghoulies is a game no one was seemingly asking for. Rare infamously started development on a game named "Grabbed by the Ghoulies" because 'goolies' in British slang means testicles and Rare were big fans of raunchy humor. Safe to say that Ghoulies didn't have a strong vision behind it, at least not initially. When you first pick up Ghoulies it'll feel like a stew of incompatible ideas. It's a room-by-room beat em up where you throw out attacks with the right thumbstick and primarily pick up anything not stapled to the wall to cave the nearest funny gremlin's face in. There's QTEs, a health system that changes your max HP every time you change rooms, and a wide assortment of Challenges you must complete to progress. It's all admittedly a rather slow and confusing start but give it half an hour and Ghoulies reveals it's hand: An air guitaring Grim Reaper.

See, every room in Ghoulies throws at least one Challenge at the player. These can be as self explanatory as "Cooper(player character) must defeat all enemies" or "Cooper must find the key" and as deviously specific as "Cooper must not defeat the same type of enemy in succession" or "Cooper can only use up to a certain number of attacks". All Challenges must be completed (or, in the case of ones that don't have an end goal, obeyed). What happens if you disobey a Challenge? The Grim Reaper shows up and will slowly glide his way to Cooper and kill him in one hit with his extended finger. This isn't just a simple fail state though as the Reaper is slow enough that he can be avoided (though he will slowly build speed until you likely can't outrun him) and his one-hit-kill poke can also kill any enemy he makes contact with. The Reaper doesn't favor sides! Because of this, sometimes the player might WANT to fail a Challenge and activate the Reaper in order to deal with particularly tough enemies (and there's at least one late game case where an enemy holding a key you must obtain is invincible and the solution to the puzzle IS triggering the Reaper). With how many Challenges there are, some are inevitably going to clash with others. "Don't damage any of the room's contents" isn't a very feasible rule to obey when the same room also tells you to kill all the enemies and one of said enemies happens to be hiding in a destructible object. As a result, sometimes the Reaper is going to come out to play no matter how carefully you tread over certain rules, but instead of this taking control away from the player, it gives them more agency to decide WHEN to break a given rule. It's an extremely "meta" mechanic and not the tired 4th wall breaking "Oh shit! We're in a video game!" kind. It's not common to play a game that puts such a clever spin on such an intrinsic element of the medium.

So while the fighting itself is simplistic it's not really the star of the show. The variety in Challenges is more than enough to keep the game engaging throughout its 7-ish hour length. What many may find lacking is the sharp and crass humor Rare is often associated with. You'd think a game with such a crude origin would maybe have more of a personality but the general story and characters are largely forgettable besides a farmer who always greats you with a different not-subtle-at-all sexual innuendo. At least the cel shaded visuals and campy haunted house music has aged well.

Released in an era where gamers and critics got GTA-pilled and convinced themselves that M-rated games were objectively superior and shorter, linear games were seen as outdated it's easy to see why Ghoulies bombed on the OG Xbox but time has been very kind Rare's debut on Microsoft's turf. In some ways I see Ghoulies as a bit of a precursor to the modern experimental indie games that play with even the most conventional of mechanics. Give CBT a try and play Rare's most underrated game!

My favorite games tend to be ones where every facet of their design feels like they were under the most scrutiny possible during development. The more laser focused, the better. Jet Set Radio Future is one of a few very strong outliers. If anything, Future is significantly less interested in this design philosophy than the original Jet Set Radio. That game was mission-based whereas Future is a lot more open, letting you travel to different parts of Tokyo-to on a whim. There's also no timer so you're free to tackle objectives at whatever pace you prefer. The Rokkaku Police aren't even on your ass as much and mainly show up for scripted battles that lock you into tiny arenas. For a while, I struggled to deduce if this all meant Future was a lesser game. For years I struggled to justify not only why Future would be designed like this, but why I loved the game when it clearly had these "flaws".

Over time, I began to notice how large of a fanbase Future had relative to its sales. It's no secret that Future didn't sell especially well (being stuck to the OG Xbox probably didn't help) but you wouldn't know that if you just saw how much fanart, cosplay, remixes, and general discussion around the game exists if you bother looking. What made me realize why Future is one of my favorite games is by seeing all the games being made in its image, and I'm not just talking about Bomb Rush Cyberfunk. Games like Neon Tail and Hover also show clear inspiration from the JSR franchise, especially Future. Now, whether these games are good or scratch the same itch as Future is irrelevant. What matters to me is that they exist at all. There are so many other, more successful franchises that haven't seen any spiritual successors from indie devs. What does Future do that makes people want more of it?

Jet Set Radio Future gives us a glimpse into a world and characters that resonated with players. It's about as counterculture as a game gets while being absolutely sincere about it. This is the secret sauce that holds Future together and has given it such a fan following. So many games from the 00's desperately followed trends in order to appeal cool to their target audience. The worlds and characters from games like SSX, Splashdown, and Freekstyle aren't original. They took current fashion choices, lingo, among other trends and blended them together into an exaggerated mirror of our world. The JSR games created their own style and people miss it and that's why fan content around these games is so common.

When you look at Future as less of an arcadey action platformer and more as a chance to explore a world with its own flair and pathos, the changes to its structure compared to the original make much more sense. Future isn't a game meant to be mastered in the same way as JSR, it's a game meant to be lived in. From the bustling nightlife of 99th street, to the grimy Tokyo underground sewage facility, Future's environments are simply fun to traverse and lose yourself in. A bunch of mini playgrounds without the timers of a Tony Hawk game or the constant threat of enemies like in the original JSR. Exploring these locales turns into a zen-like experience thanks to Hideki Naganuma's truly peerless beats.

Would I like an alternate version of Future with the more heavy handed structure of the first JSR? Sure, I'd like to see how well that'd work. But I love what we have now. I love that Smilebit managed to craft such charming characters. I love simply being in the world of Future. There's truly nothing else like it, which is why Future will never be forgotten by those that have played it.

Neversoft's Spider-Man is the perfect example of a game that gets by largely due to its charm. Mechanically, this is a very shallow action game with 5-ish different enemy types and levels that tend to last a mere minute long. I wasn't revisiting this game for the combat or puzzles. I revisited it because I love Spider-Man.

No other Spider-Man game feels like such a love letter to the franchise. Neversoft had already shown with the Tony Hawk Pro Skater games that they'll always share their adoration with a game's subject matter if they're given the chance and this is exactly what they did here. This game is like a time capsule of 90's Spider-Man, before the movies and ultimate comics would go on to inspire most future webhead stories. I don't mean that as a jab at the utterly spectacular Sam Raimi films or anything else that came after the turn of the millennium but the start of the 00's were also the start of a new era for Spider-Man. Neversoft's Spider-Man may have come out in 2000 but its development started in 1999 and the developers used that decade of Spider-Man media as a base for their game. I'm not talking about continuity as much as I am the general tone. Spider-Man 2000 is a very upbeat, fun game that only takes itself as seriously as it needs to in order for you to buy into it. Spidey is cracking bad one-liners left and right and his supervillain foes are just as deliciously cheesy as you'd hope. New York City, and maybe even Earth in its entirety are at stake, but we know going in that Spidey is going to thwart the bad guys and look cool while doing it. The game could totally pass as an episode from the beloved-but-dated 90's animated show and we'd be none the wiser.

Where the love of the source material is most prevalent is in the extra unlockables. This was the first Spidey game with unlockable costumes to earn and they range from the predictable symbiote suit to deeper cuts like the Captain Universe costume. Beyond these, there's collectible comic covers, small bios for each member of the game's cast, various Easter Eggs hidden about, and a secret "What If?" mode that changes various elements of the game. Spidey's journey lasts a couple hours max so replayability is heavily encouraged.

When it comes to licensed games, I think a clear love of the source material is just as important as making an actually engaging game. If I want to play a top shelf action game, I have loads of options not related to Spider-Man. Sure, it's ideal when you get a game like Spider-Man 2 or Marvel's Spider-Man, where the gameplay shines just as much as the characters and the world they inhabit, but neither of those games feel like passion projects in the same league that Neversoft's only outing with the webslinger does. I'm sure it's partially nostalgia, but there's a level of scrappiness found in an older, smaller scale game like this than later efforts and that makes the love put into it shine even brighter.

Imagine your nearly 20 year-old, 10+ game-filled franchise peaking with the very first entry. That's Ratchet & Clank. Whether you agree or not will likely depend on what you value more; original games with strong visions, or iterative sequels that refine what came before. I'm sure you can guess where I fall.

The franchise's claim to fame is the massive arsenals you obtain in each installment. It's what's advertised in the commercials, on the game's cover, and no reviewer ever fails to mention all the cool shooty-shooty-bang-bang stuff you can do. So you might be a bit surprised that a lot of the weapons in the first R&C are largely situational and aren't meant to be fired rapidly. A double-edged sword with every Ratchet game past the first one is how destructive each individual weapon is. It's as if the designers at Insomniac were competing with each other to develop the most outlandish, overpowered guns they could. While there's an undeniable fun to just blasting away foes with your deliciously violent weapons, most weapons start to blend together. Sure, some weapons might be a bit better at crowd control, firing speed, or long-distance targeting, but most of your guns are still equipped to deal with whatever the game throws at you. Every weapon ends up playing the jack-of-all-trades role with only a hint of individuality. I can only get so excited for a gun that shoots razor blades all over the place when I have 5 other guns that deal with groups of enemies just as efficiently.

This is where the first R&C stands out. While some guns might seem a bit dubious at a glance, it turns out that every death machine has a purpose. Few are capable of outright solving all your issues so you can't rely on the same old favorites over and over. With checkpoints being so painfully infrequent and your health so limited, you need to assess each fight in a way you never do in later titles. The level of deliberation required by the player is how I learned that the Taunter can help you single out enemies and lure them into traps. It's how I learned the Walloper gives you massive priority over your enemies' melee attacks, completely trivializing certain close encounters. It's unfortunate that a couple of the late game weapons do end up becoming overly useful against just about every kind of enemy but I'd say there's a good balance for roughly 3 quarters of the adventure's length.

What I find most peculiar about how the weapons are handled is how they tie into the game's strong anti-capitalist message. It's hardly subtle but nearly every NPC asks for money before offering any sort of assistance and that goes doubly so for the weapons merchant. Guns are super expensive and the economy seems to be in a bit of a recession since you acquire bolts (game's currency) at a tepid pace throughout. For a game where weapons are so specialized and experimentation is required in order to make the most of your kit, this seems like a way to make sure players don't buy a weapon and then immediately write it off when you don't find an easy use for it. What will likely happen is the player will just reload their last save prior to buying the weapon they assume is bad. Still, I have to give Insomniac props for using the game's economy to add some extra character to the worldbuilding. It's an aspect of the series that has infamously disappeared ever since Insomniac, ironically, got a bit greedy with where they set their sights for this franchise of theirs.

It all comes back to how every new entry needs to be a sterile, wanna-be-DreamWorks-narrative and lack anything interesting to say about its world. No longer can the shooting require actual thought. Even the music was only allowed to have an identity within the first game. For as "playable" and "pleasant" as many later entries are, the first Ratchet & Clank still has them beat because it doesn't just feel like a thinly veiled vehicle for shoveling out the same few ideas ad nauseam but with "better graphics". Long running franchises can exist and even lead to loads of excellent, exceptional games, but when the best you're shooting for is "like the original, but without the soul" you start to lose me.

Writing a semi-negative review of Super Mario World is something I feel a little bad about. This is Super MARIO World. Anyone even vaguely interested in videogames has been told time and time again that this is not only one of Mario's best outings, but one of the best 2D platformers ever made. While the blind loyalty for 8-bit games has mostly gone away this past decade, the classics of the 16-bit generation are still largely untouchable. I guess I'm part of that problem. You'll never see me miss an opportunity to talk about how much I adore games like Sonic 3 & Knuckles, Ristar, Kirby Super Star, and Donkey Kong Country 2.

Super Mario World, though? It's okay, I guess.

My biggest criticism lies with the level design. Nowadays, Nintendo's platformers are well known for following a pretty predictable philosophy:

1. Introduce a unique mechanic/obstacle for the level

2. Reiterate on introduced mechanic/obstacle

3. Put a "surprising" twist on the mechanic/obstacle

4. Make one final gauntlet to test the player on what they've learned

This format is repeated throughout most stages in modern Nintendo titles and while it can lead to levels being a bit too similar and "design by committee", it became a staple of their games for a reason. It's a really effective way of teaching new elements to players while giving the designers a chance to fully flesh out a mechanic and tell a mini story of sorts within a single level.

Super Mario World does not follow this template. If anything, it does the exact opposite. It genuinely feels like many elements were added to levels at random. So many levels lack any strong identity and are a seemingly aimless mess of enemies and obstacles. Ideas can be introduced early in a level and then go completely unused for the rest of it. Some obstacles only appear once in the entire game despite being prime material to expand upon. This might be something longtime fans have become desensitized to but as someone that has only played through World a handful of times, it's never stopped weirding me out. Rarely do I feel any sort of flow within these stages and the less said about the amount of auto scrollers and slow swimming levels, the better.

Another issue with the level design is how the game is structured in a way that defeats its own rewards system. You are constantly showered with 1-ups, making them feel worthless only a couple worlds in. Even if they came in lesser numbers, they'd still be rather pointless due to the generous save system. Don't get me wrong, I'm not upset that SMW allows me to save my game, but it and the 1-up system don't mix well, though this is hardly a problem unique to World. A problem that's persisted with nearly every 2D Mario game is how power-ups aren't a good reward for exploration either. SMW doesn't punish you for revisiting levels to reacquire power-ups and there's even a "super secret" level early on in the game that is literally one screen long and gives you a Yoshi, a Fire Flower, and a Cape, and YOU CAN REVISIT THIS LEVEL AS MANY TIMES AS YOU WANT! It's such a self-defeating secret because it invalidates the need to look for items elsewhere. It's not like most of World's levels have much in the way of alternate paths or hidden sections anyways. Compared to something like Sonic 2, World does a terrible job at encouraging you to look around its frequently vacant-feeling levels.

Maybe the less coherent level design wouldn't be such an issue for me if the game made up for it in other areas. For example, Sonic CD has messy level design with no sense of flow to it but the game is at least backed by stellar controls and superb aesthetics. Sadly, the controls don't do much for me. Outside of the cape, which is an excellent Mario power-up that's fun to master, Mario's basic moves are pretty one note and I've never been a fan of his insane level of inertia in World. In most platformers I can either slowly let go of the d-pad to stop my character's momentum or hold the opposite direction for a similar result. With World, Mario keeps his inertia in the air even if you let go of the d-pad. To make matters worse, he'll retain most of his inertia if you hold the d-pad in the opposite direction. Actually getting Mario to land on small blocks is far more stressful here than in SMB1 or the New Super Mario Bros games. I never feel confident in my landing skills when playing World, which is a pretty big issue for a platformer. That said, since so many people don't seem to have this problem I can only assume this is mostly a problem specific to me and a very small percent of other players.

One last area I think World fumbles is with its art direction. For being an SNES launch game, I would never expect World to have the technical prowess later games on the system exuded, but the big issue is that SMW feels painfully sterile. I'm sure if you have a deep nostalgic attachment to this game you might find many of its environments to be iconic but as someone whos first Mario was Super Mario 64 (and first 2D Mario game was Super Mario Land 2), I don't feel anything upon seeing these levels. The muted color palette (especially compared to the previously released SMB3) and lack of detail does little to sell me on Dinosaur Island as anything more than a wahoo-scrimblo-bimblo level. The soundtrack fares a lot better but there aren't many tracks in total so the main theme of the game gets a bit tiresome towards the end.

Honestly, I'm not sure how to even end this review besides being a pretentious ass and saying SMW reminds me of many Disney movies during their renaissance era. It's a game that's perfectly competent on the whole but is elevated to unreachable heights due to the prestige behind the Nintendo brand at the time. I'm not saying anyone is wrong for loving Mario World, but I'm curious as to what their other favorite games from that generation are.

I feel like I'm in crazy town when I see reviewers I'd normally agree with exude that they were massively disappointed by TEW1 but were pleasantly surprised with its sequel. As a fan of Sebastian Castellanos'(I'll never get over how rad that name is) first outing into the world of action horror I couldn't help but walk away from TEW2 feeling like I wasn't the target audience. While TEW2 brings back a number of elements from the first game, it also tries to distance itself from it. The story is barely related, the structure wildly different, and some of the original's biggest strengths have been left behind. I still mostly enjoyed my time with TEW2(enough to nab all the trophies on PS4) but was letdown by how conventional and safe a lot of it was. It's as if all the bite of the original game was removed and replaced with all the mechanics you'd expect from a modern, generic AAA game.

The first issue I have is the removal of the original's match mechanic. In TEW1 you could drop a match(a consumable resource) onto enemies/specific hazards and briefly light them on fire. This could be used to burn surrounding monsters if timed just right. It was a mechanic that admittedly wasn't conveyed terribly well to the player(a pretty frequent issue with the original) but was a fantastic risk/reward system. You had to kite enemies over to you and be ready to drop your match right as they got in your face. The reward was instant death against most foes. Not only was this feature removed in TEW2, but it was replaced with nothing. There was no reason to get rid of one of the first game's most unique and engaging mechanics unless the developers were afraid matches were too big-brained for the audience they were shooting for. Maybe they were right, but their absence makes for worse combat since you're rarely encouraged to make as many risky plays in TEW2. In general, there's less one-hit-kills, less surprises, and no traps, which were a staple of the first game. Both you and the enemies could set your own traps to lure each other into but this was another element missing in TEW2. I get the impression the developers at Tango saw how frustrated some players got with the original game and instead of deciding to better introduce and teach these mechanics, Tango decided to simply drop them. I guess it worked; critics I normally agree with didn't seem to mind their absence. Nevertheless, the absence of these core mechanics means TEW2's gameplay loses a lot of the original's identity.

Another trait of TEW1 was its linear structure. You'd go level-by-level and you're never given too much to explore. A lot of set pieces and special fights railroad you forward but you were still given some downtime on occasion thanks to mirrors that teleported you to an(mostly) abandoned hospital where you could upgrade your weapons and skills. The TEW2 has its share of linear sections but a lot of the game takes place in two open sandboxes of sorts. You're given optional things to find and quests to do. Some of the exploration in these larger, less contained areas is quite fun but the general combat suffers from them big time. TEW2 is possibly even buggier than the first game and the enemy AI is truly awful at path finding. You can get spotted, run away for a couple seconds, and the enemies will have completely lost interest in you. When they lose sight, enemies shamble back to their patrol route in the most robotic fashion possible, letting you very easily exploit the forgettable foes and dispatch them with stealth attacks. Speaking of stealth, that's something TEW2 leans a bit more into than the first game but it's still so surface level and is just like every other AAA game.

The biggest problem I have with the open world is how it affects the pacing. When exploring the open world bits, you'll be spending loads of time just navigating these large lands and fighting basic enemies that aren't placed in any special manner. There's usually not much to excite you outside of a few powerful enemies that roam these parts(but they can still be exploited with the poor AI, sadly). There are hideouts now where you can go to upgrade your tools and heal yourself up with a cup of coffee but you aren't often forced into these areas and your path forward doesn't often lead you to them so you can spend a substantial amount of time not visiting these spots, which makes the whole game feel like it both doesn't have enough action, but also not enough downtime. It all melds together into something middling.

Speaking of middling, the story really highlights the difference between TEW1 being directed by Shinji Mikami and TEW2 being directed by someone(John Johanas) who wanted to play things safe and do what the industry has already proven to work. I'm not saying TEW1 had a great narrative. It was messy and deliberately held information from the player for long stretches of the game. But hey, it was another thing TEW1 could call its own. TEW2 ignores a lot of the first game and focuses on Sabastian trying to find his daughter. Oh boy, another AAA game staring a sad, gruff dad. The story is more immediately digestible but not anymore intriguing or even really that emotional. The game starts with a scripted bit where you search your currently-on-fire house, trying to save your daughter and all I could do was roll my eyes. It's all just so played out. I'm sorry, TheGamingBrit, this isn't Silent Hill tier stuff.

Funnily enough, my favorite part of the game is the boss fight against Stefano. A lot of people seem to hate this boss and call it cheap but I thought it was a welcome challenge. The fight plays out like any good classic boss battle should. Stefano has attacks that are all given unique windup animations or even unique pieces of dialogue. When was the last time you in a western published AAA game where you had a genuine boss battle that said attack lines over and over to let you know what he was going to do next? I miss those days.

I can't really point fingers at anyone and tell them they're wrong for liking TEW2 more than the original. The sequel is a perfectly fine game and maybe some players just wanted something a bit more formulaic and less tense than the original. For me though, I just wish the game had a strong identity. It didn't even have to be just like the first game. It just needed to feel like a one-of-a-kind and memorable experience. I just don't think I got that and at this point I hope we don't get a 3rd game.

Bonus thing I couldn't fit into the review: The game's hardest difficulty at launch was one of those garbage modes where it plays just like the second-highest difficulty, expect you have extremely limited saves. This means if you die, you might get sent back multiple hours. I really loved the one-hit-kill Akumu difficulty in the first game because it meant you really had to master each section but the checkpoints were frequent enough that you weren't wasting loads of time with each death. This mode in TEW2 just feels like a tacky way to make something SEEM harder than it really is. Also, Sebastian got a slight redesign in this game and I think he looks way less cool and more generic. If you agree with that last point, tell me! Am I alone in this!?

It's easy to write The Evil Within off as Shinji Mikami attempting to repeat his success with Resident Evil 4 on a new generation of hardware but I think that'd be selling TEW a bit short. Yes, it has a lot of surface level similarities to one of the greatest games of all time, but TEW has a much darker side to it. A more ruthless, unapologetic side.

One very appreciated similarity between TEW and RE4 is how utterly unforgiving it is. While some shooters will offer the occasional one-hit-kill hazard, TEW makes them a constant throughout the 10 hour long adventure and you're expected to die to them frequently. TEW does not tolerate mistakes, either in the player's execution or decision making. Checkpoints are common enough that failure rarely feels soul crushing but death is around every corner and on a first playthrough you'll constantly be on edge. I was second guessing my decisions far more often than in most third person shooters and I consider that a strong positive.

While RE4 uses its tank controls and lack of movement while aiming as a key part of its challenge, TEW offers a more conventional control scheme. Your player character, Sebastian Castellanos(badass name btw), can move freely while aiming and is much more nimble. To accommodate this, enemies are far more aggressive and slightly less predictable than in RE4. While this can occasionally lead to moments where an enemies acts in a wild manner that borders on unfair, I think it helps make the fights more dynamic. Maybe it's because I've played through RE4 over 50 times at this point and have only played TEW around 7 but I find it a lot harder to go into autopilot in TEW as I feel a lot more can go wrong for you at a given moment. It's a similar tense feeling to RE4 but a bit more manic.

While RE4 feels very focused on it's set of escalating challenges, TEW is a lot more scatterbrained. Every few chapters introduces not only new enemies and obstacles, but entirely different pacing and context for the frights you face. One chapter will have you being cold and calculated while the next will put you into a mad frenzy. This all makes it hard to judge TEW as a whole because the game's quality can change on a dime depending on what kind of scenario it throws you into but overall I think the variety and ruthlessness makes for an engaging and memorable game. Perhaps it's the at times brutal difficulty and demand for you to learn on the fly that made TEW a bit of a dud to critics and casual players but like many games of its kind I recommend you give it a shot and don't immediately write it off as a cheap RE4 knock-off. It may not reach the same pristine quality of Leon's most acclaimed outing but it still manages to stand on its own, even if it can be a bit jank at times.