Why do we continually find ourselves drawn to the Resident Evil series? What enduring qualities does this franchise possess that make it withstand the test of time, earning widespread acclaim for both new titles and remakes in recent times? While it's true that not every entry in the series has garnered universal acclaim, the franchise finds itself in a robust state today. Why is that?

These questions nagged at me as I found myself laughing at the conclusion of the Resident Evil 2 remake. It sparked a reflection on the storyline, making me realize that there's more to our love for it than just the plot. I believe the answer is rooted in a couple of things. Primarily our sense of discovery. There is nothing more exciting than unlocking the secrets of each room. Survival, immersed in impenetrable darkness, propels us to grope our way through, searching for an escape. Additionally, the game's brilliance lies in the meticulous combination of items in our inventory. No other game has compelled me to be so diligent in arranging and utilizing items to navigate challenges.

Besides all that, there's more I can point out - like the puzzles, the awesome look of the remake, and that intense atmosphere. But what really makes this franchise shine for me is not the tangled story or the one-dimensional characters. It's that thrill of discovery, the survival instinct, and the clever resource combining. Oh, and one more thing that always gets me – they're short. Short and sweet, just the way I like it.

P.S: By the way, I accidentally breezed through this game in assisted mode and ended up with a C rating like a total noob. It took me a whopping 12 hours just for Leon's storyline. Please, let's keep this between us.

My fascination with medieval games is rarely fully satisfied. After struggling once more to progress in Kingdom Come: Deliverance—my sense of direction lost within a mere 15 minutes of wandering around some obscure chicken village—I stumbled upon A Plague’s Tale: Innocence and decided it was worth a shot. What a pleasant surprise!

Crafted on a modest $10 million budget, this relatively short game provided me with more enjoyment than most titles in recent months—especially in contrast to the $300 million disappointment of Marvel's Spider-Man 2. A Plague's Tale: Innocence drew me in with its palpable atmosphere, heightened by Olivier Deriviere's music. Well-developed characters and a consistently dynamic narrative immersed me completely in its world.

Frequently, I found myself captivated, gazing at the hauntingly beautiful landscapes of a world in agony, unfolding before my eyes. A battlefield, where catapults were engulfed in the relentless dance of flames, surrounded by grim heaps of the fallen. In a desolate village, the last remaining pig stood as a somber offering for the uncertain future of humanity. Terrifying silhouettes of knights loomed in the narrow streets and corridors, a constant reminder that escape was an illusion.

A Plague’s Tale: Innocence has undoubtedly secured its place among my favorite games this year—a captivating and impressive experience that I wholeheartedly recommend to all enthusiasts of the era. Seamlessly weaving a compelling narrative with stunning visuals, it leaves an indelible mark on any gaming connoisseur.

The emotional ending took me completely by surprise. I found myself tearing up, an experience I hadn't encountered with any other game.

At first, I found myself frustrated, cursing, and grappling with the new mechanics, leading to numerous deaths. However, once the characters crossed paths with the knight Arnaud, everything started to click, and my experience turned around. The game's world drew me back in, and I was able to navigate the challenges with newfound ease.

With incredible visuals, an emotionally charged story, and a thematically cohesive experience, A Plague Tale: Innocence and A Plague Tale: Requiem will linger in my memory for a long time.

I acknowledge my belated entry into the conversation, and I'm aware of the potential cliché in praising this game. However, I cannot help but express my admiration for how the atmosphere of Hollow Knight skillfully transported me into its magical world. The music, the design, and the dystopian salvagepunk elements collectively create a sensation of playing in a realm beyond the accepted boundaries of civilization. It truly feels like a place where the Pale King made his final stand against the relentless onslaught of chaotic disintegration.

While I haven't delved into other metroidvania games, I dare say Hollow Knight stands as the pinnacle of its genre. It consumed 50 hours of my time to reach the end, albeit without facing the Radiance. Now, here lies my quandary. The more I explored the game's lore and pondered its intricacies, the more I detected an unsettling aspect surrounding the mid-game introduction of the dream element. I didn't care to fight extra bosses, nor did I have any interest in the gods and the arena.

Aye, there's the rub. Hollow Knight is an intimate game, and the sense of loneliness and isolation is an integral part of the world. Therefore, any attempt to increase the number of bosses and introduce unnecessary complications for the players, just for the sake of it, feels immature—especially in contrast with the restrained style that prevailed before encountering the moth.

I don’t want to fight Radiance. Not just because it’s hard, but because it feels like a violent twisting of the arms. You don’t get the true ending unless… you find the dream nail and upgrade it, spending more hours on silly tasks instead of playing the game you enjoyed so far. I don’t need stupid gods and mythology for this abandoned world because that’s the point – it is abandoned, there are no gods, everyone is alone unti this melancholy knight comes around and starts helping. Like in a Kurosawa movie. The knight should remain a stranger, and The Hollow Knight should stay his possible future.

I started the game on one of those nights when I was browsing the entire PS Store and couldn't find anything appealing. I tried ten games one after the other, but none suited my mood. I wanted something fast-paced and dynamic that I could start playing immediately, without long dialogues or cinematic pretensions. Tales of Kenzera: Zau turned out to be exactly what I needed.

Colorful and visually pleasing, the game can easily appeal to gamers like me who aren't necessarily looking for a big challenge. Most of the time, the game feels like a walk in the park, except for the 1-2 moments where it forces you to run from some danger without giving you time to get your bearings (like the lava chase at the end).

However, there are a few drawbacks. The combat units lack variety, with only 4-5 different types to destroy. Additionally, it feels lazy when the game makes you go through a level twice - once in one direction and once in the other.

Overall, I'm satisfied. It gave me a a sense of healthy disengagement that only a solid 6/10 game can offer.