I remember renting this game from Blockbuster back in 2008 when it came out, and on the way home I had to shit so fucking bad that I was begging my Mom to drive home faster. I literally was in a half-standing stance in the backseat pleading with God. A moment that makes you truly realize time is a construct and that 5 minutes isn't always just 5 minutes. It was the kind of sweaty, painful, and restless experience that you never forget; I couldn't believe I didn't shit my pants.

Anyway, I remember that experience more than this game because it was so bad. You know a game sucks if even as a Sonic-obsessed kid you just have no interest in it.

The magnum opus of the franchise in my opinion. More zombies, more ammo, more locations, and more bosses. It does everything right while going bigger than RE1. The design of the RPD is near flawless in enemy/item placement and navigation flow. The sewer and labs are less exciting but quick enough to get through that there's no time to get tired of them. The zapping mechanic is very light but still cool nonetheless, adding extra layers and variation for replayability.

I don't replay games often but the classic RE games are fantastic at encouraging it while keeping things fresh and fun. It scratches an itch in my brain going through this with the prior run's knowledge; being able to zone in on single-pixel corners for specific items and beat the game in two hours makes you feel like a human cheat code. Zero complaints other than maybe the puzzles being toddler-esque fit the square in the square hole kinda stuff.

I loved the first one and felt like it had a very strong emotional core while fully understanding the character. There was still room for narrative improvement though, and I really hoped to find that here. The technical prowess on display is awesome to play around with, but after the new sheen wears off, you're left with a game that is largely a derivative, stripped down version of the previous two entries, in both story and gameplay. Miles and Peter play exactly the same, and combat being so gadget focused feels like the spider was taken out of Spider-Man. Bosses are HP sponges that exist to pad playtime and tire you of the combat mechanics.

The story being so incredibly fast-paced and haphazard gives no breathing room to let tension or attachments grow, really hurting the thematic focus of second chances and redemption. The weaker narrative makes the relatively simple combat and checklist-esque structure feel repetitive quickly, especially considering most people have gone through 30+ hours of it already in past entries. There are a few moments where the writing begins to stand out, and some side content is better integrated into the world, but it just never takes the full narrative leap or shows any teeth like the first game to make you truly care about what's going on.

This is gonna sound super lame, but this game is really important to me. The Starforce series had a really troubled time and was absolutely full of flaws until the 3rd game, but there was something special here that deserved to be refined.

This game really helped shape my identity around the time I played it when I was younger. The multiplayer aspect and the story, while shallow at times, especially for an older audience, really resonated with a depressed 12 year old me trying to grow into a concrete personality with hobbies I no longer wanted to be ashamed of. I thought it was so cool how (while never explicitly stated) Geo clearly had similar issues; his journey to accept and learn how to rely on others and healthily cope with his mental struggles really connected with me. I also find the continuity impressive in that his personality genuinely grows throughout each entry.

Gameplay-wise, I like that it switched up the MMBN style. There were a lot of missteps, but there was a decent amount of innovation to make the transition to 1 row feel fresh and not limiting. The net felt much more alive than some of the BN games but ultimately wasn't as strong of a world due to being an overlay of the real world.

The second game went on to hurt the series rather than improve it in the writing department especially, and then the third was almost perfection. The series was unfortunately cancelled right after. I would kill to see a revival after the team really hit it home with the third game.

I think about this game every day and still find myself humming the Traveler's Theme; Andrew Prahlow's soundtrack is a wonderfully composed piece of art that moves in ways only music can do, whether its to convey comfort or instill fear or the idea of something bigger than you. As an experience, I can confidently proclaim I've never played another game that deeply affected me in the way Outer Wilds did. As someone full of anxiety and existential dread, the core tenets here were made both to sooth and directly confront the inevitability of life and its end.

Gameplay-wise, being a metroidvania where the upgrades are straight to your brain makes revelations and puzzle solving feels incredibly rewarding, since your own desire and anticipation is what fuels progress. You're dropped into this world from second one with all the tools necessary for success. The game constantly rewards you for being curious, while instilling a renewed child-like wonder at the universe alongside a primal fear of the unknown. The execution is flawless, and really evocative a completely fresh and unique experience.

Throughout the time spent in Outer Wilds' galaxy, you learn that it's best to just let go of your fear and take chances, as while dangerous, most things in it bear no ill will. In that same vein, a core theme that really resonated with me personally was the importance of cherishing the calm and quiet moments as something special. In a game filled with so much mystery, tragedy, and vast loneliness are also very tender moments that reaffirm you aren't alone.

It's obvious every single aspect of this project was a labor of love, and it payed off astoundingly. Despite the melancholy and abject horror inherent in a narrative on this topic, Outer Wilds makes its final message one of resounding hope and acceptance in the smallness of life; of our place in the universe and its importance through personal connection and just being, rather than due to a grandiose plot destined for us. Curiosity is a beautiful thing but It's okay if we don't understand everything, we were never meant to. It's a warm embrace at the end of the world, and that's something I can't put a price on.

“We do not have much connection, you and I. Still, this encounter feels special. I hope you won't mind if I think of you as a friend.”

Very conflicted with this; I enjoyed my time with it and am in love with the aesthetic but it may be too derivative for its own good. The save points, Nowhere location, even the general plot outline are virtually ripped straight from Silent Hill with little variation. I'm very familiar with the genre but the 6 item limit here feels restrictive and poorly designed to tedium, especially with the addition of re-spawning enemies (who are annoying obstacles more than tension ratchets), and very limited full-kill items ala REmake.

The game clearly wants you to replay it to make better use of this tool kit, I just didn't really have any desire to jump back in after one playthrough. In the end, I'll take any well produced retro survival horror we can get, and Signalis is definitely on the better end despite my issues with it.

Truly a landmark in gaming. For every complaint I have, there are two or three things I love. I played Primehack and had an enhanced FOV since the original was so narrow, so I can't comment on any original hiccups in that department. The map and world design is incredibly atmospheric, with every new area feeling like a visual treat, Phendrana Drifts in particular. Prime is a commendable transition into the 3D space for the franchise, and it being the first attempt makes all missteps easy to forgive. Backtracking is a little rough (maybe just me but I never felt like I totally got the hang of which elevator went where without double checking), the mid-game feels unfinished (you fight 3 bosses, play for 5 hours, and then fight 3 more at the tail end), and some weapons feel underutilized (I barely touched the super variants until the Metroid Prime fight) but it's a blast and really retains the feel of a 2D Metroid game at its core, with platforming as a main focus.

With a standard first time playthrough being around 10 hours, it never overstays its welcome. I personally enjoyed the artifact hunt, as it forced me to run through every area one more time to find collectibles and feel how much stronger I'd become. It was cool having "oh shit, that was there this whole time!" moments littered throughout as I collected them.

X is a near perfect platformer. It moves along with an absolutely astounding soundtrack, phenomenal theming, and progression-based upgrades driving the game. The weapons all feel fun and useful, which is something the classic series really struggled with on the NES.

X is a game all about improving, and the player growing alongside X feels so fluid and natural that it's hard to beat. Sigma is difficult final boss that leads to the kind of catharsis you can only get from games like this once you finally get that last hit in. My only change would be to have the dash be default.

I fucked this game up. It took 30 hours but I whooped it's ass. I will never stop looking for reflex/rhythm games to struggle through and then brag to my friends who give zero shits.

Super Hexagon is one of my favorites. It's incredibly simple, but really effective at drawing you in. It's one of those gems that lets you see yourself getting better with every "GAME OVER. BEGIN." until you can finally go through Hyper Hexagonist empty-minded, entranced by the screen's speed and chilling to the OST like you're Neo. The game really is just an esoteric form of meditation

This is actually a well crafted, difficult co-op game. It's a cool experience that really forces you to engage with whoever you're playing with, and isn't just a cute gimme game for one person who plays games and another who's never touched one before. There are similarities to Getting Over It, but with Bread & Fred, you aren't actively fighting against the controls to win.

There are a lot of accessibility options if the game feels too frustrating, and it's quite rewarding being in total sync while mastering the simple mechanics the game throws at you. There are some intense moments of frustration when you realize a pitfall takes you so far back but the game doesn't begin feeling prohibitively difficult until the last section or so. What ends up hurting it most is the length considering how simple the mechanics are.