In life, we rarely get a chance to follow an art from its genesis to its conclusion. At the arse-end of history, we're often doomed to look at such things retrospectively - surrealism, rock & roll, postmodernism, the New York School of Poets, wild west movies, whatever - and wonder what it was like to evolve and ultimately ascend to atrophia in tandem with a creative movement.

Titanfall 2 is, therefore, a rare privilege. A game that has, with the retrospective power of its seven-year existence, definitively marked the end of an era that was carved out by Call of Duty thirteen years prior. Halo, Modern Warfare, Bioshock, Borderlands, Wolfenstein, the lot - I feel like it's fair to say that Titanfall 2 encompasses its own movement, the nature of its existence, and all the reasons it could not continue - where do you go beyond time? If you'll forgive the incredibly fucking pretentious analogy, Titanfall 2 is not unlike Let It Be, the final Beatles album that put the cap on a half-century of rock. (You could probably extrapolate this complete nonsense further and suggest that the corporate self-awareness of popstars popping up in Warzone and Fortnite mirrors the ironic MTV garage grunge of Kurt Cobain, but hey! - that would probably sustain an equally stupid Backloggd essay of its own.)

What makes Titanfall 2 rarer still is that it’s an ending to a now-lost artform that began with the same creator years prior. Infinity Ward may have respawned, but they were, at this conclusive point in time, the same unit of creation from 2003. Impressionism was started by guys like Claude Monet, but was drawn (painted?) to a close by Van Gogh, a conscious will that passed down a century, their art thankfully/tragically unaccelerated by lack of commercial interest. They say an artwork is never finished, but fortunately for us the future is far more financial than we originally projected - artistic movements can now be efficiently condensed into a decade of fiscal quarters. We can watch an artform rise and fall upon the plateau in the time it takes to finish a high school diploma, and that's neither a good thing nor a bad thing; just a thing that happens now. Let it be.

Sure, other militaristic first-person dual-weapon wall-running action shooters with automatic health recovery have come after Titanfall 2, but they're essentially invalid imitations, impressionist postcards that we pick up in the lobby of the Van Gogh Museum. They're the consequences of something that's gone for good. Never to return, for better and for worse.

If the Resi 4 remake was the sequel to the Resi 2 remake, here's your spiritual successor to 3.

I don't know anybody who wanted a remake of the deeply forgettable Separate Ways campaign. After the pleasant surprise of the 4 remake, I think most were just quietly awaiting more of that reasonably enjoyable content. It's maybe a little more faithful than we'd hoped. This is largely a story about Ada's journey from canon cutscene to canon cutscene. The appeal of this confident, elusive spy, run into the ground as we see her do all the same shit as Leon and respond to an on-screen hookshot prompt as she sees him choked by Mendez. She must think this guy is a right fuckup. Every time she bumps into him, he's shit outta luck.

Look - I like Ada. She's a fun idea, and a good wildcard to toss into the mix after the wholesomeness of the Resi 1 cast. She makes a rotten protagonist, though. Her whole appeal is tied to popping up out of the shadows to turn the tables at the most exciting moment. Watching her do all the standard civvie Resi shit is rubbish. She's supposed to be above mixing herbs. Giving her a canon campaign (Assignment: Ada does not count) was a tacky idea to make the PS2 port look cool. I wouldn't be surprised if Mikami put God Hand into production entirely out of spite for it.

- ̗̀ New ̖́- Separate Ways also attempts to address a problem with the main campaign; the annoying fans who pointed out a couple of memorable omissions from the original. They're back, sweaty, and waiting for your applause.

Ada's secret agent role encourages the team to lean harder into everyone's favourite new aspect of the remake; THE STEALTH! Yup. Get excited to enter more rooms with ganados facing the wrong way for ages. There's a whole bunch of them here. Ada also gets some Spy Vision shit, where she can make footprints glow blue to solve a couple puzzles. It's nothing. Don't pretend you've got an idea, Resi 4 remake DLC.

The campaign does pick up after a brutally dull opening. It isn't a complete slog throughout, and as pandering as they often felt, the old Resi 4 bits did make me smile a couple of times when they were brought in as a surprise. There's a wee coda at the end that leads into 5 a little more cohesively too. I'm not telling you not to play it, just that you totally don't need to. The best addition here is easily Ada and Wesker in Mercenaries, but you get that as a free patch anyway.

The Resi remakes have been Capcom's safest bet for chasing the Triple A crowd for the last decade. Monster Hunter and Street Fighter have a lot of fans, but they're not appearing in the "Similar customers also bought" tab when you put The Last of Us: Part I in your cart. I'm sure they want to keep going, but I don't know if they can confidently put as much money into a 4K Steve Burnside model. They might be stuck pandering to the hardcore fans, and I really can't get excited about a faithful remake of 0. I don't know. Is it worth speculating? This is me writing a lukewarm review because I was let down after the high standards set by the Resident Evil 4 remake. We're in unprecedented territory, here.

It feels like whoever came up with this wrote the full production plan when they were 8. Titanfall 2 is about running across walls, doing slides and being best friends with a giant robot. There are hallmarks of linear, cinematic American action games that I don't typically have much taste for, but the game is so robust that you're typically doing the wildest stuff entirely of your own volition. The creativity and vision behind each new setpiece really justifies the instances where the campaign needs to limit your freedom, too. It's a bit of a buzz to see a game so clever being so riotously dumb.

It's also worth bearing in mind that the single-player campaign is only really an extra. Titanfall's primary focus is on its online multiplayer. There wasn't even an offline mode in the original game, which audiences had a strong distaste for at the height of Xbox's yuckiness in the early 2010s. Its mechanics weren't established with a story mode in mind, but you'd never guess that from playing it. Respawn Entertainment was founded by ex-Infinity Ward staff, who had plenty of experience with elaborate, cutting-edge setpieces through the Modern Warfare games. Titanfall 2 is them challenging themselves to show what they can accomplish without the restraints of the Call of Duty franchise or Activision's investor-focused release schedule. They show they can make Valve-quality games. This is the kind of campaign I'm still dreaming Nintendo will make for Splatoon someday.

Titanfall 2's ideas are wild. One level takes place on an elaborate manufacturing line, constructing houses that you take cover in, as they're carried down the track, turning on their sides and upside-down as they have new walls and objects welded on by giant machines. Another has you explore a ruined facility, shifting between two different time states at will, using either the past or present version to open secured areas or erase wrecked debris in your path. It does these things so slickly, you can't begin to imagine what's going on under the hood, and the campaign never takes a break to do a sensible idea.

My main reason for replaying this was as a spectacle piece for my Steam Deck. I've had the thing for over a year now, and Titanfall 2's just been a thing I've come back to every now and then when I've felt like an FPS. It's very silly that handhelds have gone from the 3DS to something like this in such a short space of time. I can't imagine myself ever going back to a console version either. Not unless they patch-in gyro controls, anyway. How did I ever play this with analogue sticks alone? There's so much movement and distant enemies all around you, it's impossible to keep track of targets without intricate, instinctive control over your subtlest actions.

I haven't dabbled with the multiplayer since the PS4 version. I'm aware it's just as good as the single-player. I just don't feel it would be respectful to come into PC FPS servers on a handheld. Certainly not years after launch, where it's just the hardcore fans still trucking on. Like attending a funeral dressed in an inflatable duck costume.

Titanfall 2 is frequently very, very cheap, and even cheaper if you're not someone who thinks Star Fox Zero has pretty good controls, actually, and you're happy with a gyroless PS4 copy. Even if it really doesn't look like your thing, you probably ought to give it a try. You don't want to look like the guy who was too clever to have ever seen Terminator 2.

Very glad I took a chance on this. Really loved it. I don't get to replay games as much as I'd like, especially when they're big new AAAA releases - but I realised right near the end of this that since I'd replayed every mission before completing it (sometimes multiple times) I'd essentially played this twice already. Just goes to show, you should always make your repetitive tedium optional, folks!

So yeah, it got its hooks in me completely. I even got into the customizing. And I'm eager to see how the alternate story branches go. A great game! I played a whole new game on my Playstation 5 and I loved it! How often do you get to say THAT?

A fascinating little oddity that feels more like a fan's student project than something John Carmack himself created on his week off, but it's nonetheless a decent way to waste away a 3-hour conference call if you want to round out your Doom bibliography.

This is probably the closest thing we'll ever get to experiencing Carmack's legendary Dungeons & Dragons campaigns, and it's amusing to hear what dialogue written by him sounds like - clearly the funniest things he can conceive of are unicode string formatting oddities and luddite computer-users failing to follow basic security protocol.

The game lacks the trademark early-iD attitude that came from guys like Romero and Tom Hall, but I don't think there'd be much room for dumb hijinks or Alice in Chains MIDIs in a turn-based RPG for Java flip-phones. I'm tempted to check out DOOM II RPG and Orcs & Elves now and find out if there's any other fun to be mined from the "Doomguy's Etrian Odyssey" format.

animal crossing finally concludes its slow and steady descent into a list of chores served alongside a heaping helping of bread and circuses. the experience of playing new horizons is closer to playing a dead mmo than it is to any sort of zen-like getaway game.

animal crossing has always had a nasty hook monster but it is no longer lurking around the small town, showing its face to you rarely and at a distance. now, it has picked up a beach-front property and firmly moved in. it is now the most important resident, and by god, if you do not play by its rules, you are not going to have a good time.

this is the greatest game of all time

never played it but its fucking named dave the diver
ur kidding urself if im not giving this at least 4.5 stars from the get go
im gonna name my kid after dave
the diver will be their middle name
even if it's a girl they'll be named dave idc
if they come out as trans i wouldn't care either, they're gonna be named after the greatest game of all time

that ive never played
god this is awesome

SPLATOON 3 - YEAR ONE REPORT

There's probably no game that I'm more "into" than Splatoon. There's games I like more, things that have been and gone, but Splatoon is its own scene. A subculture, and a massive push of energy from a new generation of remarkably talented Nintendo devs. Building on the lessons taught by the Marios and Zeldas, but it's a socially conscious online shooter that embraces new players. I love that while other monolithic multiplayer icons were collaborating with movie studios to promote a new release, Splatoon was collaborating with the Japan Agency for Marine-Earth Science and Technology, to encourage fans to take interest in the real-life species of aquatic creatures that the games take inspiration from. It's also a refreshingly progressive title from a safe, Japanese family brand like Nintendo, with its embrace of street art, Octo Expansion's overt anti-racist themes, and 3's abandonment of gender classes. It's quite encouraging to see how much a young queer fanbase have adopted the game as a positive community, in contrast to hostile, masculine spaces like Call of Duty and Gears of War. I think it does a great job of representing contemporary Japanese pop culture too, showcasing regional pop idols as fun, positive icons that fans can bond over, and not the icky, fetishised exploitees that the west tends to view them as. There's just a lot that Splatoon does that I think is really cool, and I'm consistently supportive of it.

It's a shame then that Splatoon 3 doesn't really seem to have as much of a voice as the previous titles. The energy seems to have diminished somewhat. Whether through complications with the pandemic, a less experimental, more efficient design structure, or developer burnout, I don't get as much sense of direction with the new game. Map designs seem reined-in and conservative in their approach, while previous games were introducing new mechanics and distinct playstyles with each new drop. Deep Cut haven't had the same impact as the Squid Sisters or Off the Hook, with the game's DLC allowing oldheads (me) to regress into Splatoon 1's Inkopolis lobby, largely ignoring the direction of the new title. New seasons bring back maps from previous titles, many of them from Splatoon 2, which players could access just as easily on their Nintendo Switch already. It just seems to have plateaued. Splatoon isn't pushing at the boundaries anymore. They're digging up nostalgia for games that came out a few years ago.

I don't think it's dead, though. There's encouraging signs that Splatoon 3 is still just finding its shape. Deep Cut's three-piece presents a fundamentally different dynamic from what's come before, presented as petty, bickering bumpkins from a smaller town, and it's great to see how that's been incorporated into their new track, Big Betrayal (their biggest banger so far). Their disappointingly restrained performance at Nintendo Live 2022 seems to be behind them, and I think their next concert could be a lot of fun. At time of writing, Deep Cut's Splatfest is currently in session, with the winning member seemingly becoming the leader of the group. I want them to stick to whatever the result is, and I think it would be a lot of fun to see Shiver's resentment if she has to take orders from either of the other two. While I moan about how relatively regressive 3 has been, I will die a hardcore Squid Sisters devotee, and it's been great to see how much the new game has catered for those who got invested in Callie's disappearance before 2's release. I want the series to continue to present them as the icons who started all this, and 3 has largely been following the trajectory I'd hoped to see, in that regard.

I just feel very precious about Splatoon. There was a time when each new development felt like a step into the future. How exciting it was when Camp Triggerfish first dropped, with its multiple base territories converging in central hot zone. Even as a Team Order voter, I feel concerned about Side Order's revisionist theme, turning its back on the significance of Splatfest results. If we were going to see both the Chaos and Order timelines anyway, what was the point in taking part in the Final Fest? It doesn't seem like the kind of move Splatoon 1 would have made.

Splatoon 3 is still the best place to play Splatoon today. The pre-match practice lobby and skippable Anarchy Splatcasts make it a much more inviting option on your Switch's home menu, and the active season rewards keep active players invested in returning regularly. It just doesn't feel like we've really got the game it's supposed to be yet. It's safe, and that's not something I value in Splatoon. I want them to see the big swings, and weird experiments without worrying about the impact to its established playerbase. I know a lot of people who bought it at release, and I think I'm the only one who hasn't dropped off playing it regularly. I know what this team can do. I'm telling them now's the time to do it.

I've marked this as Shelved, but I might be back on it as soon as tomorrow.

Radical Red is for a certain breed of person. I've never got on with "competitive" Pokémon, it does absolutely nothing for me. But I read about RR and found its sales pitch really interesting. What if Fire Red was balanced to be played like competitive pokémon, had a bunch of QoL upgrades that made team building much easier and streamlined, and also every fucking Pokémon ever was in it? Oh, and also, it's hard as all bloody fucking shit. That's RR!

And, to my surprise, I enjoy it! It's making me think about Pokémon in a way I never have before, considering statistical builds and specific roles within my squad (tanky walls, status effect stallers, sweepers etc)! Which is cool! I like running into boss characters, failing miserably, and then having to go to my Boxes and figure out ok, who's going to substitute nicely here to beat this fud? Do I give up a mon in slot 1 to set up for a sweeper to come in and just wreck house? That's fun as fuck.


But it's also far too hard. Fuck off Giovanni you absolute cunt, take your Mega Evolved Kangaskhan with you.

How familiar are people with Ridge Racer? I'm still a little peeved about how thoroughly the internet mocked Kaz Hirai for his enthusiasm in 2006. I've seen a lot of people discovering Type 4 in the last decade, and it's been very gratifying to see the newfound appreciation for it, but that's not all Ridge Racer is. After 5, the series took a dramatic turn - A big magnetic drift. They adopted nitro boosts and dumbed themselves down quite considerably. I don't think it's something to resent. It's became more of the wild arcade racer that many thought they were getting when they first heard about the games, and I enjoy it too. I just think it's worth clarifying that the bulk of the series is fairly distinct from the one that's in vogue at the moment.

Ridge Racer 2 (or Ridge Racer*s* 2, as it's titled, slightly more helpfully, in Japan) is something of a soft compilation. Every PS1 Ridge Racer track appears here, alongside a couple from the arcade-only Rave Racer. Like Mario Kart's retro cups, they've all been pulled into the new style of ridge racing. Think of it like a Tekken Tag Tournament or Mortal Kombat Trilogy, but for stylish Namco racers. After spending months tied to PS+'s ludicrously expensive Premium tier, Namco have finally opted to make their retro downloads available as individual purchases on PS4 and 5. Go check. You've probably got a freebie or two if you were excited about this stuff back on the PS3. The PSP emulation comes with some presentational quirks, and you're forced into a smoothing filter that diminishes the 2D assets, but the thought of Bandai Namco executives seeing new income from Ridge Racer enthusiasts should allay any frustration caused by blurry Tower of Druaga logos.

Where with Ridge Racer 1 (the actual one, not the thing they called the first PSP one) it's debatable whether or not you actually want to drift, drifting is the very core of New Ridge Racer. Do a drift and it builds your nitro boost meter. You can put up to three nitro boosts in reserve before you determine when's the best time to use them. Simple courses with long straight sections make boosting a bit of a no-brainer, but narrow, windy tracks are constantly building your meter, and push you to boost in some risky moments. You rarely feel too out of control in New Ridge Racer, as there's always a bit of guiding hand making sure you don't fall too far off the main racing line. Again, it's dumbed down, but that's justified by how quick and complicated the races can get.

Something that may deter fans of the older games is that the newer ones are huge. There was a time when a game consisted of one or two tracks, and the ability to play Time Trials were the big bonus. Before writing this, I completed 48 cups, varying in length from 2 to 5 races each. And those early ones were very slow and easy. It takes dozens of hours before you get to see how fast and exciting the game can be. It's a serious time investment, and I wouldn't blame you at all for turning to the instant action of the PS1 titles instead.

48 cups might sound like a lot of content. That's really stretching it. There's a lot of variants of the same tracks throughout. Some open up a slightly different route. Half of them are just the same tracks played in reverse. Most of them are just the same races played at different speed classes. A lot of cups feature a line of variants of a single track over and over again. It gets samey and repetitive. The game starts to wash over you.

A lot of this can be understood when you remember that this is a PSP game, back when they thought handheld games had to be different from home console ones. The idea of just making proper games and offering a power-efficient sleep mode hadn't quite caught on yet. Ridge Racer 2 was designed for commuters, in a pre-smartphone world. It's supposed to be the bit of Ridge Racer you play to kill time, slowly chipping away at it until you finally get the grand reward of some compressed PS1 intros in a gallery. The difficulty curve is very gentle, never threatening to make you sweat. It's still fun. Just tame. It's not a criticism I'd level at Ridge Racer 6 or 7. After many hours of introductory races, those games eventually become thrilling. Here, even the post-game content that's too hard for me is just kind of plain.

It serves a different purpose from the Ridge Racer games that people are passionate about. And as an £8 app on your PS5 home screen, it serves that purpose pretty well. It's a big slab of Ridge Racer for whenever you want to play that. Unlike Type 4, you're not locked into little stories, worrying about which placement you need to unlock the right cars. Unlike the first couple games, you're not getting exactly the same 20 minute experience every time you turn it on. This is a more practical option. There's even a "Custom Tour" mode that creates a cup for you based on how much time you have to play. If you're a series fan, there's good reason to pick it up. It doesn't have the unique quirks or atmosphere of those earlier titles, and it feels purposefully genericised, but that's fine. Big tub o' Ridge Racer you got from the wholesalers. Eight quid. Bargain.

Resident Evil 4 has become a touchstone. Its years of enduring relevance and constant ports have obscured what it actually is; A 2005 GameCube game.

I recently did something I'd meant to do for years. I invested in my GameCube. For far too long, it's been ignored. A novelty device that had been made redundant by the Wii and Dolphin. The only reason to keep it was the far-off potential of maybe buying a Game Boy Player for the thing someday. I finally did it. And I got one of those expensive, aficionado-grade CSYNC RGB SCART cables after using washed-out third-party composite shite for years. It's all come flooding back.

In its day, I would have happily declared the GameCube to be my all-time favourite console. There were better games available for other systems, but after their first couple years, there was little sense of direction to the PS2 or SNES. They were too concerned with going after the audiences that the Xbox and Mega Drive brought into the market. The GameCube was a proud Nintendo console. They'd spent the N64 struggling to release any 3D games at all, and the bulk of its biggest hits were made by foreign companies who'd already got practice in 3D on PC games and Amiga demoscene stuff. By the GameCube, they'd caught up, but they weren't just going to trot out predictable 3D sequels. Everything had some weird, ambitious new twist that set it out. Metroid was first-person, Zelda was cel shaded and focused on expressive character animation, and Mario was, bizarrely, a game about spraying water in the tropics. Nothing was what you expected it to be, but seeing how frequently those games turned out well, it was thrilling. They completely earned my trust. Whatever stupid-looking mistake they announced, I was pretty sure it was going to be incredible by the time I actually played it.

One of their most exciting initiatives at the time wasn't in their own projects, though. It was in their third-party relationships. They'd dropped the ball with Japanese developers in the mid-nineties. Their demands were too limiting, their hardware was too complex and expensive to work with, and they'd become complacent in their dominance after the NES and SNES. Sony stepped in and ate their dinner, encouraging experimentation and allowing publishers to print games as they sold, rather than committing to bulk orders of thousands of expensive cartridges. Demographics took a back seat, and games became more of an expression of the creator's will. Nintendo must have been raging through this all of this, because by the time they were ready to make the GameCube, they were willing to pay out big to acquire exclusive Metal Gear, Final Fantasy and Resident Evil. That gave us Twin Snakes and fuckin' Crystal Chronicles. But Resi? That was a good investment.

Maybe not commercially, but culturally.

Mikami's discussions with Nintendo won him over to their vision of the industry. Before long, he was joining Miyamoto on stage to announce that Resident Evil was now a GameCube-exclusive franchise, reviving the abandoned N64 Resi 0 project and personally directing both a remake of the original game and the much-anticipated Resident Evil 4. Later, he'd also reveal his "Capcom Five" initiative, announcing GameCube exclusives, Viewtiful Joe, Dead Phoenix, P.N.03, killer7 and reassuring the audience that Resi 4 was coming along well and would be "scary than ever before". Mikami jumped head-first into the biggest logistical nightmare of his life. Slowly, the realities would creep in, and sacrifices would need to be made. Exclusivity promises would be discarded, P.N.03 would be rushed to release and Dead Phoenix would be scrapped entirely, but it didn't matter. All he really had to do was make sure Resi 4 would be the best game in the world. And by god, he did it.

I remember the day my pal's US import copy arrived. The European release wouldn't arrive until months later, and here we were, playing this game from the future. It totally felt like that. Enemies would duck and weave as you took shots at them, inventory management was now fun and compelling, and every 15 minutes the game would take some unbelievable new turn. You barely managed to get past the introductory village, but then you were fighting a giant, crushing houses underfoot, and an enormous lake monster, and then the standard enemies sprouted tentacles out their heads. It was a breathless experience, and every time you thought it was wrapping up, it introduced some mad, elaborate new section that you couldn't wait to jump into.

This review follows my first post-remake playthrough. The obvious differences between the two games are all entirely granted, and there were minor ommissions I totally forgot about (did you remember the Dark Souls/Deathtrap Dungeon swinging axe room?), but there were still substantive discoveries on top of that. It doesn't seem like nearly as dramatic a leap from the classic formula now. It's a perspective shift, progression is more nakedly linear, and the puzzles are barely even a part of the game, but it's old heavy Resi. Pick your spot, plant yourself there, and fire as the monsters close in. The knife button feels like such a welcome addition to the classic formula that they put it into the DS's Resi 1 remake, and instantly made it a bit of a pain in the arse to go back to earlier versions. So much of that old Resi appeal is here.

For all its wild contraptions, setpieces and ludicrous characters, the original Resi 4 is surprisingly restrained in its presentation. No, honestly. Quite often, large sections of the game - full of memorable little ideas - will play completely without music. The sound design's carried by the oozing tentacles, clanking suits of armour and shotgun blasts. Even when there is music, it's often subtle and atmospheric. Percussion and wailing. It's important that the things in the game feel impactful through everything layered on top. You always know how powerful this stuff is, even when there's flaming barrels and exploding towers all around you.

I also think the level design choices are consistently better in the original, too. Rooms are designed so you're always presented with a route through during hectic encounters. If you're supposed find a crucial puzzle piece when tensions are high, the structure and camera will make sure it's presented clearly to you. It's not so overt to be patronising, but not so obscure that you'll die over and over as long as you're not completely freaking out. It's just a cracking game that takes consideration for the breadth of players who will be getting through it.

I've often argued in favour of QTEs. Instances of direct engagement during elaborate action sequences that couldn't be fully realised within the limitations of regular gameplay. That's a fairly haughty position on the matter. Really, I like QTEs when they're in games that are happy to have a big laugh with them. Ryo Hazuki dodging the football, and that. At one point, you're shown a "RESPOND" prompt to lay Krauser with a retort as snappily as possible. They basically put the "TRENCHANT INSIGHT" button in this. I can't imagine that making Resident Evil 4 was even slightly as much fun as playing it, but there's moments in here that just make me picture the hysterical disbelief at the studio as they were put together. "Fucking hell, we can't seriously be doing this" - "Aye, we're fucking doing it. Come on." Even today, Production Studio 4 veterans are still laughing about the giant mechanical Salazar statue. As much warmth and good humour as there was in the remake, it was a people pleaser. I have so much more respect for the original's wilful disregard for its audience's demands.

It's also clear how well engineered the game was around the GameCube. I won't argue with anyone who say they can't go back further than the Wii Edition, but the button layout is such a good fit for this controller. Those face buttons almost seem like they were engineered with Mario in mind, but they never made a GameCube entry where you held B to run. Leon Kennedy's here to pick up Nintendo's slack. Those big triggers feel so great as you steady your aim or draw your knife. All the fiddly wee buttons are dedicated to the more intricate, cerebral actions like inventory and partner management, while all the lizardbrain shit is right under your fingers' resting spots. I haven't conducted the survey, but I don't think the folk who love this game the most are the ones who first played it on the PS2.

There are undeniable drawbacks to the 2005 release, though. As good a display as you can manage, you're still not seeing that lasersight when you're aiming more than 10 feet away. I'm not going to argue that loading screens and a mid-campaign disc swap make this version better, either, though they do warm the spot in my heart reserved for "Real Game Shit". Man, play whatever version of Resi 4 you like. You're not seriously considering buying the GameCube version if you're not already inclined to love it.

If you obsess over the creative process that brought these games to audiences, there's an appeal to getting as close to the source as you can. For the cultural touchstone it's become, there's a coherent logic to why, after multiple retreats to the drawing board, that this would be the game that would finally receive the "Resident Evil 4" title. How the action genre had progressed in the decade since the PS1 original's release, and Mikami's devotion to Nintendo's vision for the industry. It was always a mad gamble, and shifting market trends meant it stood as something of a martyr for the Japanese games industry for years after. Japanese audiences would drift away from consoles, western influence would radically shift the trajectories of big studios, and outspoken developers would be silenced as publishers chased US money. Nintendo had been right, though. They knew the strengths of Japanese developers, and with the Switch, global audiences are finally starting to side with them again. They were right. Mikami was right to side with them. And Resident Evil 4 is one of the best games ever made.

After finishing Arcade Paradise recently I was thinking about the arcade experiences I had in the past which are a rarity now.

Fighting games never went away and beat ‘em ups have had indie revivals here and there but light gun games that’s something that really doesn’t exist outside of their “evolved form” of VR shooters.
Konami and Sega killed it with this genre in the arcades with games such as: Point Blank, Time Crisis, House of the Dead, Virtua Cop, Silent Scope… who remembers Police 24/7? That game blew my mind at the time, a decade ahead of the Kinect.

The point in time I remember most about these were when the light guns came into our homes and offered “arcade accuracy”. Sure there were N Zaps and Meancers but the Playstation and Saturn eras, that was when for me it clicked the most.
Now as far as Arcade cabinets go I’ll take Point Blank over most, I also wouldn’t disagree with anyone who said Time Crisis was the king of the light gun games but for me my time with the Saturn and Dreamcast holds that place in my heart if not my head.
House of the Dead and Virtua Cop were series I played with pals to death, ports that were good even without guns because of the depth and ideas these games were bringing during this period.

All of this brings me a little further in time to the Wii and this game.
As CRTs started to disappear and flat screens and HD ready were the craze, light guns were no longer the plastic accessory people wanted - it was guitars.
Nintendo though, always stubbornly staying behind the curve were a shining beacon for the man who wanted to point a gun at his screen and the Wii and the zapper accessory if you wanted still allowed that to be a possibility.

I could continue to talk about other titles, the failures and successes, the ports and the strange tie-ins but I’m here to review Ghost Squad.

Ghost Squad is probably best thought of as a spiritual successor to Virtua Cop and much like the time of the Saturn, it’s really second fiddle to House of the Dead but for me is the heart over head choice.
There are only three levels but Ghost Squad loves to play with its arcade stylings by bringing variety in a lot of replayability.
Multiple routes add different directions and game play elements to missions where sometimes you’re not simply shooting terrorists but uncuffing hostages, disarming mines and more.
The more you play the more routes unlock and the more you play those the more weapons you unlock to change up play styles.

Ghost Squad on Wii goes as far as to add a Ninja Mode which replaces the protagonists, enemies and even some of the scenery with Ninja themed items, throwing stars and all.

To hit the credits in Ghost Squad takes maybe fifteen minutes, and that’s a complete guess because it flies by and is such a laugh you’re not checking your phone to see the time.
The alternate routes aren’t all as exciting as each other and sometimes feel as if they make little difference but really it doesn’t matter, you’ll be coming back to run through again and wanting to tag in some friends.
The game doesn’t take itself seriously, the villains feel like they’re pulled from B-rate action flicks and the voice acting matches with its terrible bluntness.
To think too deeply about this game would ruin it. It is more about how it feels and it is frictionless and joyful.

Ghost Squad is pure and it is fun. It’s not an all-timer stand out in what games should be and isn’t the best argument for why light gun games should still exist, but what it is, is a bloody good time.