A perfectly average shmup from Psikyo, the leading purveyor of 6/10 arcade releases circa 1995. That's not to say that the game has no merits to speak of, it's just all very muted. Most representative of this is the (Spoilers?!) sci-fi twist, which starts novel, but becomes a bit played out by like stage 4.

An important notice for all Unit 731 deniers who may be reading this. Japanese nationalists beware! Do not , and I must repeat, DO NOT use the Zero. It moves at like half the speed of the other ships (at best lmao). The game is significantly more playable (and fun) with just about any other option.

It might just be a sign that I've spent a bit too much time on anonymous message boards, but the humor didn't really bother me all that much.

An astounding labor of love by a highly insular community for said highly insular community. The amount of unique content on offer here is staggering, featuring 386 fakemon and a massive postgame. What really makes Clover stand out among the mountains of mediocre hacks is it's balance. Rom sites are littered with projects titled something like "radical opal" substituting bloated stat totals for difficulty. Clover presents a legitimate challenge for hardcore fans without sacrificing the viability of a casual playthrough.

Highly recommended to just about anyone with an interest in competitive pokemon.

I find the genre of "auto battlers" to be somewhat puzzling. Like, on the surface these are the most hypercasual of casual games. But when you try playing one it becomes immediately clear that they are actually an exercise in hyper optimization, the mathematically perfect team exists and will win every time. With that clear, any semblance of strategy is thrown out the window, it's just a matter of getting the right rolls. After realizing this, I started to wonder. If it's all just RNG, then why does anybody play these games?

The way I see it, the player base is ultimately split into 2 camps: those who have googled the optimal build, and those who have not. For the former, it's simply a matter of going through the motions, an experience devoid of all humanity. Now no more than a beast, they must subsist off the dopamine they get whenever they win the funny animal game. The latter must repeatedly contend with the limits of their own humanity. Each new scheme they concoct is an exercise in futility. Soon enough, they are either forced to seek that same forbidden knowledge, or continue on in hopes that the machine will allow them a sliver of that same funny animal dopamine.