Banjo-Kazooie is the platonic ideal of a video game to me; all throughout its assortment of colorful levels are opportunities to see and learn new control modes and special moves for its title characters to interact with the game world, either asking you to use them skillfully or cleverly to earn the next jigsaw piece. It can sometimes be unclear what to do next, and a game with this level of variety is obviously not going to be 100% perfect (ah, a refreshing game of Concentration awaits around the corner), but despite those shortcomings, Banjo-Kazooie is nevertheless so well-paced and courteously laid out that it maintains its appeal where many other 3D platformers fall short. Loads of secrets, too!

Anodyne is happy to leave you with the impression that it's a quirky little trip (and deserving of appreciation/analysis on that front) but also very willing to reward observation; its mechanics are simple for a top-down action game, and it tells its story in bits and pieces with wide gaps for the audience to fill in on their own. Combined, these aspects result in a campaign that's practically free of filler material, assuming you like what's on the surface to begin with and are willing to trust that the game knows what it's doing. I personally did on both fronts, and I now consider it one of my favorite games of all time.

Realistically, there are dozens of better racing games than this, and the Kudos system is easy to exploit, but I still have a soft spot for MSR as wide as an ocean. The racing action itself is different enough from modern games (more focused on incremental improvement than overtaking opponents) and fun enough on its own to immerse in, but at least one full star of this score goes to how its ingame radio contains a Sonic R's worth of sappy original songs by vocalist TJ Davis and composer Richard Jacques.

I'm a fan of rhythm games of all shapes and sizes, but StepMania specifically has a place in my heart for how it takes the concept of the full-body rhythm-game genre and effectively removes several barriers the money-hungry and churn-heavy videogame industry has put on it. Where Rock Band produces DLC for a playerbase limited by diminishing hardware supply and Just Dance locks its content down behind streaming servers, StepMania has an endless amount of stepcharted songs to experience. Want to play? If your PC has a keyboard, you're good to go. Want to make a chart? Take an MP3 and plop some arrows down in the ingame editor. Want to dance? You can buy a USB soft pad for $20, buy something better from a third-party manufacturer, or build your own using an online tutorial. It's a model that's possible only through the tireless work of a dedicated community, and it ensures that floor-mat dance games will still be played long after StepMania's contemporaries have shut down.

Danganronpa's story is unashamed to be silly, and there are plenty of holes you can punch through it. Some characters have motivations that make absolutely no sense (it's kind of necessary for a Lord of the Flies story to happen), there's risque fanservice at inappropriate story moments (why does the camera need to be there?), and some chapters are flat-out misguided in what they try to teach (the case just before the rec room opens up is a notorious offender). Even so, the story as a whole is still great at communicating its motif of hard lessons, introducing you to essential qualities about its cast, and encouraging you to view those qualities in contexts that might completely change your perception of their value.

The make-or-break of it comes down to what you're willing to forgive, and whether you view its specific brand of silliness as a strength. I love when voice actors ham it up, so Monokuma utterly stole the show, and many of the other characters are just as dynamic and well-performed. I found the trials to be exciting, too; I only referred to a walkthrough in situations where I felt like I knew the answer and I needed to figure out how to communicate it to the game, and I think that's the way to go.

Watch Dogs 2's campaign is secondary to the experience of roaming around its simulated Bay Area, getting into impromptu adventures, and interacting with its people. IMO that's a good thing, its story is centrist pop-culture snark roleplaying as leftist hacktivism; in my experience it doesn't diminish from the fun of moving around and finding new things. It's also greatly helped by the personality of its main character, which shines through even if you treat the story as background noise.

It's been years and the game still hasn't exhausted its mechanical value for me. Sometimes I'll fire it up with the goal of seeing some new scenery, racing through the wilderness, taking some selfies, finding a nice outfit, or inconspicuously ruining the day of some demonstrably awful person. Whether by accident or not, this game is great at supporting the generation of these stories, and it seems like it'll be a while before anything comes out that does a better job.