I'll let you in on a little secret. Whenever I see people acting selfishly or dishonestly, it's common for me to think, "that's not very Bushido of them". This is who I am.

Bushido Blade is a modest little game, and I think people who bought it at full price are still a little bitter about it, but it remains indispensable. Fights are often over in one hit. Attacks are fatal. The twist is that if you want to make it through Story Mode, you need to fight with honour. That means no backstabbing, attacking while an enemy's on the ground, or jumping in before they finish their pre-fight speech. It's a neat little gimmick, and one that's gone a long way in earning my respect.

There's not a lot of content here, gameplay isn't very technical and there's odd blemishes as the tone swerves between dour historical drama and 1997 PS1 fighting game with big hair and technicolour outfits. The controls don't go far beyond Nidhogg (or Great Swordsman, for all the Taitoheads in the audience). It remains unique, though, and it's always in the back of my thoughts. Time, ticking away, until I know I have to go for another 20 minute run through Bushido Blade.

It should be said, two-player gives no rewards for good conduct, and it completely changes the game. That's where brutality and opportunism win the day. It's brilliant for entirely different reasons. The game's no Street Fighter, but there's plenty reason to own a copy.

https://x.com/DukeTheGrammer/status/1710043412852818249

I have been hanging out in Battle Hub a lot again since Akuma dropped. The other night two guys were beefing over what the Season 2 release schedule's “Winter 2025” meant and it got pretty heated to the point that their (mostly censored) messages were flooding the chat log and pissing off everyone else in the hub.

Somebody on the server suggested they have a FT5 to determine who was correct, and it led to a couple dozen virtual avatars gathering around a single cab to watch the beef settle. Hilarity ensued when the first match began and it turned out the keyboard warriors were gorilla-brained Gold Akumas swinging wild at the fences every round, lol. Very stupid, but way, way more entertaining than most professional SF6 matches I’ve seen. Don't know why. Just something about the true spirit of the flame that the Hub brings out in people.

Anyway, the guy who authoritatively claimed Mai isn’t coming out until December 2025 won the grudge match and everyone in the hub decided to act like this was correct to piss off the other guy 😇😇😇

Battle Hub is so fucking underrated. It scratches the MMO social itch without the agony of the MMO grindset. I would love Capcom to publish a version of it that encompasses all their VS. arcade games. You can’t beat Fightcade at their own game, so why not give people something more than just menus?

SF6 has nearly harnessed the forbidden power of recreating a long-forgotten 3rd Place (the arcade) and it rarely gets recognised because the tasty chicken at the heart of this meal (i.e. the actual fighting) is so good that everything else feels like fries and side-salad. Bro I can run around with a Monster Hunter greatsword and do Final Fight animations on animatronic Chun-Lis and Joe Bidens while listening to remixes of EX Troopers OST bro, come on come over here and lets play a round of Alpha 2 High-Score Challenge for a sec

anyways, please nerf rashid - i hate that guy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmuFQju0ywU

Don't you fucking start. Yes, I like Joust too, and I'm inclined to give HAL Laboratory far too much credit. I just think they nailed it here.

I don't want to talk about Joust too much, but it's just not as instantly readable. It's hard to know which ostrich knight is going to kill the other when they clash. In Balloon Fight, the vulnerability is obvious. This is a balloon-based economy. If those things pop, the man is dying. It's elegant, charming, and very cute, which has always been HAL's thing.

The controls feel a bit like the underwater levels in Super Mario Bros, with you constantly diving down to the bottom of the screen until you rapidly bash at A to ascend. Developers had figured out how to write code for convincing momentum, which was put to atrocious use in Ice Climbers, but it really works in Balloon Fight. It feels controlling a ball, as you repeatedly wobble your man into the right position before sending him off to meet his target in a smooth, continuous arc. There's a good amount of risk/reward here, too. Popping an enemy's balloon will send them parachuting towards the ground, and if they land, they'll inflate more balloons to revive themselves, so you have to swoop in to finish the job. Get them while they're still parachuting, and you'll get more points, but that can be a dangerous procedure. The graphics are fairly basic, but there's a distinct personality to the deathmasked baddies, and especially, the big ugly fish who'll swallow you whole if you go too near the water. It's HAL. You can take it for granted that stuff's in the bag.

The slidey, wobbly, momentum-heavy controls really come into their own in 2-player. It's like an expanded and refined version of Mario Bros, as you bump around, honing-in on targets and attempting to sabotage your rival. It's bloodthirsty, unpredictable, and doesn't get brought up nearly enough in conversations about multiplayer classics like Micro Machines and Bomberman. There's actually a lot of Smash Bros DNA in here, and it makes a lot of sense that HAL would go on to develop the first two titles, with HAL golden boy, Masahiro Sakurai continuing to lead the franchise today. When veteran developers talk about trade secrets, it's typically stuff like how to code satisfying character movement. This kind of thing has died down now that the industry has shifted towards licensed engines and shared assets. Now, the secrets are all about terrible working conditions and sexual harassment.

Balloon Fight's real innovation is in the bonus mode - Balloon Trip. I don't know if that's the right way to talk about it, actually. Duck Hunt does a similar thing, where it positions three different options on the title screen, with increasing complexity, so you move onto the next after you've familiarised yourself with the most basic version. It was the mid-eighties. The ink hadn't dried on the game design manifesto yet, and I think this is an entirely cromulent approach to it. Balloon Trip is what Millennials (I'm one, but I know folk my age who didn't get a console until the N64, whereas I was bruteforcing my way through the first few screens of Cruise for a Corpse before I could read) would recognise as an endless runner. It's Flappy Bird for the cultured crowd. Balloon Fight's specific controls paired with an onslaught of lightning bolts and obstacles really make for a compelling high score run.

This applies to pretty much every NES game, but I think it's a big part of Balloon Fight's appeal - It's instant. You power on the console, and there's your game. You don't have the agonising 5-second wait of the Game Boy boot screen to suffer through. There's a straightforwardness to Balloon Fight that's really inviting. You want something like Balloon Fight on the other end of that process. Simple, snappy, unique and delightful. There's so much wrong with the notion that old consoles are outdated. They provide a different kind of function. That's your Balloon Fight machine. You've got to have one of those, ready to go.

Beautiful railroading.

Hellblade II reminds me of Evolve. It really shouldn't. The games are nothing alike. Nearly a decade removed from one another, they don't share any gameplay similarities. They aren't made to appeal to similar audiences. Their only visual similarity is... "dark." But the comparison between the two is far more pervasive than any of those traits though. Simply put, I heard about both games way too much before they finally came out.

Part of Hellblade's appeal was surprise. Not to belittle the accomplishments of that game, but the package was really complete because each moment was an unexpected treat--a testament to big things in small packages. It was a new IP doing unique and exciting things. Hellblade II is almost the opposite: a 6-hour movie stuffed with more of the same. Gorgeous simplicity polished to a safe, market-researched, and replicable sheen.

To be fair, there's a notable amount to love here that's done extremely well. Hellblade II features a full cast joining Senua brought to life by killer performances across the board. The audio design is second to none and the visuals throughout made me feel like I was less playing a video game and more watching some kind of 4K tech demo for high-end TVs. All good stuff. But man, that is not why I play video games. None of that will stick with me. The game is shockingly simple. Most of my playtime was spent slowly walking forward (there's a toggle sprint option in settings; retweet to save a life). There are a handful of combat instances that look insane but are extremely rudimentary. I figured out in the second combat sequence that there are very few reasons to ever use the heavy attack. Spam light attack, dodge/block, activate #SenuaMode, and move on.

I would be remiss to not mention the valid critique of both Hellblade titles falling prey to the "magical disabled person" trope but dude. It is it in full force in Hellblade II. Whereas the first title felt earnest if a bit flawed in its attempt to emulate and respectfully consider psychosis, Hellblade II swings wildly between presenting Senua's struggle as either not affecting her at all and it serving as a superhuman ability making her the only one who can heal the world of its darkness. It's messy and ultimately pointless this time around.

Hellblade II was initially announced and marketed as a launch title for the Xbox Series consoles which came out about 3.5 years ago at the time of this writing. I know art is never as simple as "more time = better thing" but as someone trying to figure out what good is coming of Microsoft gobbling up all these developers, I'm still left wondering. We're waiting longer for fewer, less interesting games.

It's an insane, nostalgic thing to say, I know. This is my favourite Zelda. I think it's the best one. I have played LADX start to finish more times than I can count, but this is the first time I've done it since BOTW/TOTK came out. And those games are incredible, and my head would probably say they are obviously the better games, but Link's Awakening, Koholint, has my heart. I will never forget it, that memory must be the real dream world.

I reckon if I finally ever get therapy, I could spend a whole session talking about Link's Awakening.

I decided to play Prime, again. Only I thought I'd try hard mode, as I did the same on my 2nd Dread playthrough and I had a great time. Of course they are the same thing...

It was pretty much business as usual until I got to the Phazon Mines. That soon started to give me a kicking. But once I picked up the plasma beam, it felt like I was in god mode. And then I got to Ridley. Spent the last 3 days basically doing 2 (3 if you count the 2 stages of Metroid Prime, the boss, not the game itself) bosses. Ridley took more attempts than the final boss, but it was just a case of repetition and grinding it out. If you get complacent or greedy, you get punished for it. Safe to say I did both several times. What, am I supposed to learn from my mistakes?

But it was a rewarding playthrough, and finishing it felt great. I was in two minds just to fuck it off, but I'd come this far, and surely to give up at the last boss would be pathetic. So I soldiered on. Overran on my lunch break, but it was worth it.

This might have overtaken Dread as my favourite Metroid.

It was about time I owned this.

Is it a guilty pleasure? I don't know. I don't shy away from my affection for Aerosmith, despite the fact they are, undeniably, incredibly embarrassing. I'll blame the fact that I was introduced to their albums when I was very young, and my music tastes basically amounted to anything up-tempo that made reference to explosions. They seem like a weird band for kids to be into, but they've always courted young-skewing media, from The Simpsons to Wayne's World 2 to, most shockingly of all, Rugrats Go Wild. They've also been curiously videogame-positive, from Midway's rubbish lightgun shooter, Revolution X, to Quest for Fame, to the interactive minigame you got when you inserted the Nine Lives CD into a Windows 95 PC, and of course, the classic chatroom/immersive 3D MMO, Aerosmith World. Apparently, Steven Tyler's cousin, the ever-venerable Tommy Tallarico, served as a bit of a bridge between the band and Activision, resulting in this oddly early Aerosmith-themed version of Guitar Hero.

In the grand scheme of things, Guitar Hero was still fairly new at this point, hadn't really delved into DLC, and this was the first game in the series devoted to one artist. In retrospect, The Beatles Rock Band really is the gold standard for this stuff, and that's kind of an edge-case scenario with a media entity that's famously fussy about licensing-out their content (particularly in the pre-Spotify days). Aerosmith are the polar opposite. These games were still being made by original PS2 developer, RedOctane at this point, before the series was entirely handed to co-developer, Neversoft, and its vintage really shows. The primary focus is on playing through a band's career, moving to larger venues, and completing the story. There are extra songs that are purchasable with in-game "money" (not the real stuff that Activision would become so ruthlessly keen on in the following decade), and they're accessed via a separate menu because they're not canon, or something. You also have to select a classic generic Guitar Hero character to perform as, with all their cartoony animations. Don't worry. You'll still get to play as Aerosmith, but the Guitar Hero characters are here to play as a sort of opening act, weirdly playing non-Aerosmith songs. There's Joan Jett, Mott the Hoople and fucking Ted Nugent in this, and the career mode insists on you playing through those songs to progress. Back at this point, there was a patronising intent for Guitar Hero to introduce young audiences to "real music", and not just allow them to access songs they already liked. These other artists' songs are rarely the original recordings, and rather, covers by RedOctane's in-house bands, and they stick out quite bitterly to audiences accustomed to the standards of the more recent Rock Band titles.

I'm also reminded why I drew the line so definitively against Guitar Hero games when Rock Band first became a rival franchise. Rock Band immediately took more of a light sim approach, attempting to faithfully map guitar parts to a five-button game controller. Guitar Hero's charts have far more videogamey bullshit running through them, and the 3+ button "chords" you're faced with on Expert mode are Bad. Harmonix always had more credibility, and have remained hopelessly devoted to combining music and videogames in ambitious, wildly impractical ways, while Activision were more out of touch and cynical. I feel like I'm sacrificing much of my own values (read: prejudice) by turning this on.

The worst thing in the game is a misguided "Guitar battle" stage. I'm pretty sure these were in a couple other Guitar Hero games around this time, and they still hadn't learned their lesson by this point. Your Guitar Hero character and Joe Perry each play a phrase, unlocking Mario Kart-style power-ups for successfully playing a sequence. You activate these by engaging "Star Power" (holding your toy's neck vertically), and they're all really bad. If you get hit by one, you may need to press twice as many buttons, or get shifted up a difficulty level, or the most rubbish of all - rapidly jam on the whammy bar until you're allowed to play again. You might as well tell me I'm not allowed to play until I hop on one leg for ten seconds. It's definitely not the experience that anybody who bought this game wanted, and thankfully, it's just one level, but it's mandatory, and it's really fucking crap.

There are treats for the bigger Aero-heads in the audience. The band seems to have been heavily involved in the game's development, and even rerecorded a couple of early songs whose master tapes weren't suitable for use. Fair credit to them. They were still able to capture their 70s sound far into the 2000s, and you'd be hard-pressed to tell that they were recorded by the post-Just Push Play/Honkin' On Bobo version of the band. I'm especially giddy that the TERRIBLE Bright Light Fright somehow made the tracklist, as its lyrics have been a source of many in-jokes for me through my twenties. There's also mercifully few of the one-per-album ballads in here, with a focus on heavier rockers and big Joe Perry solos. They likely cut some of their potential sales by leaving Don't Want to Miss A Thing off this, but I'm very grateful for that. Why am I making out like I'm above this? I like Rag Doll. I like Sweet Emotion. I like Back in the Saddle. I'm the key demo, here. This game belongs on my shelves like a regrettable tattoo. For whatever you have to say about Aerosmith, they do have a back catalogue of big silly rock songs with wild guitar solos, and that pairs well with Guitar Hero. Ultimately, though, the thing I like most is that it costs £1 in CeX, and I paid that entirely with trade-in credit.

Seeing Animal Well getting so many perfect scores kind of put me on the offensive with it, and that's not fair. I should be looking at it in a vacuum, removed of comparisons to other Metroidvanias, and the opening gambit of a comedy YouTuber who had the gall to start his own publishing house. It's a game that invites scrutiny, but not on those criteria.

The core of Animal Well is its sense of physicality. There's a very grounded and well-supported sense of logic behind each puzzle and obstacle. There doesn't appear to be any attention given to lore or narrative (and if there is, it's hidden behind additional challenges in the post-game). Your player character is essentially a walking sprite tile, with little other defining features. You get a sense of how high they jump and how fast they move, and that's all you learn about them. As far as I can tell, they don't even have a name. The design's focus is on utility above all else. You gain an inventory of toys, and find out how they can be used in a range of different scenarios. Unlike a lot of games in the genre, your items don't feel like elaborate keys, only introduced to solve specific sets of puzzles, but useful tools that you'll need to experiment with to discover their full value.

The game's ruthlessly abstract, rarely giving any explanation of its ideas. You have to figure it all out through experimentation. It wraps itself up in neon pixels and ambient soundscapes, and you just pick away at it, slowly uncovering more of the map and gaining a deeper understanding of how to traverse it. I spent hours doddering around with puzzles before I realised what I was focusing on was optional post-game content, and discovered what my immediate objective was supposed to be. I have to go really far back to find other games that took such a hands-off approach. Like, 8-bit microcomputer far back. And none of those games could dream of approaching this level of complexity. The closest modern comparison I can think of is VVVVVV, and that's, what, fourteen years old now? I think you only get these games when one guy makes the whole thing himself, and spends an entire console generation tinkering around with ideas, reworking the entire thing each time some new mechanic has an unintended knock-on effect. When someone never has to get a team on-board with their logic, and can just play around with the esoteric ruleset that lives in their own head.

Animals appear to be the game's one constant theme, and I think it's probably just because the developer liked them and they're fun to draw. It doesn't appear to be making any statement about real-world animals, and they all appear in different scales with clashing art styles. Some are cartoony, some are realistic, some have complex logic and a wide range of movement, some are very constrained and function as part of the fundamental level design. They're just a soft face on an otherwise abstract gamepiece. They're not the point. It almost seems coincidental that so many of the things that the game's made up of are animals. Play this game for the experimental approach to Metroidvania design, and the ever-expanding depth. Don't play it because it has Animal in the name.

It's a good game, but it feels a little cold to me. Like they didn't want to give us something to love. I'm not saying it should have Kirby in it (not that I'd complain, but the suggestion would undermine the point I'm making), but a big part of what I love about Metroid is how cool Samus is, and how exciting it is to see her doing cool stuff. Animal Well can feel a little like playing with a desktoy or something. It's so barebones in its expression of character and worldbuilding, and that's not going to be a problem for a lot of people, but it makes me feel a little too detached from it. Again, I can try to appreciate it on its own merits, but it's my main complaint. Maybe it's childish, but I like being the cool hero on the big adventure. Metroid Dread makes this look like Minesweeper.