Death Stranding has not left my thoughts ever since finishing it in early 2020, and oh man, what a perfect game indeed to start off that cursed year. Directorial legend Hideo Kojima once again flexes his eerie powers of prescience in his first post-Konami independent project, creating a fictional world that would, only a few months after release, reach unforeseen levels of resonance with a global audience suddenly thrust into the grim reality of having to deal with a historic pandemic under late stage capitalism. True, Death Stranding's base writing is an undeniably self-indulgent mess, but all the repetitive, on-the-nose dialogue in the world cannot distract from this game's downright therapeutic impact and exceptional effectiveness in communicating its central themes of isolation and connection through its singular world and mechanics. It also helps that the game is on so many levels tailored exactly to my emotional and aesthetic sensibilities—hell, this game even knows my specific interests in politics and science. Traversing gorgeous, lonely, desolate landscapes as a central gameplay mechanic? Post-capitalist economy based on solidarity and mutual aid? Particle physics references and metaphors permeating the entire game? CHVRCHES in the end credits? It's almost ridiculous how much this game panders specifically to me. But regardless of my personal biases, I wouldn't hesitate for a second to call this one of the most bold and forward-thinking gameplay experiences the modern AAA space has to offer.

I've been meaning to write a proper review for this for years (and I'm still planning to), but I think Hattori's review is pretty much spot-on, especially as a rebuttal to some of the more low-hanging criticisms I've seen floating around. It is pretty clear that Automata is the kind of game where you either vibe with the (categorically uncool, decidedly no-good) idiosyncrasies of its director Yoko Taro—world-renowned scoundrel and self-professed creator of "weird games for weird people"—or you don't. As for me, I'm not ashamed to admit that the tonal, thematic, and emotional registers explored in both of the mainline NieR games have pretty much conquered my soul. All-encompassing sadness interlaced with the grotesque and the absurd, but also full of heart and empathy where it counts—that's my shit right there. Incidentally, ⁠I was originally drawn to the world of NieR after spontaneously giving the Automata soundtrack a spin and just instantly clicking with it on a fundamental level—in fact, I'd say the music is such an integral and representative part of the experience that you can likely skip this game if listening to a track like "City Ruins" doesn't immediately make you want to fuck off to some forlorn corner of the world and weep for the soul of humanity. And trust me, weep I shall, seeing to what extent lewd fanart of the ostensible protagonist is stealing the public spotlight away from the actual, real star of the game: the Small Stubby Machine.

The medium of video games is uniquely suited for the adventure genre and over the years has taken me on more daring journeys than I care to recall, but only a select few of them I would describe as genuine odysseys, and FFVII definitely ranks among them. Although, truth be told, I might have never gotten past the opening hours of the original if I hadn't already played the remake and become attached to this charming ragtag gang of characters. What can I say, I sure as hell am glad that I was able to push through and look past this game's outdated (heck, almost antiquated) exterior. It may be tempting to think that FFVII's place in the video game canon can be entirely attributed to influence and nostalgia, a milestone in blockbuster RPG storytelling and game design that blew feeble teenager minds in 1997, albeit one that wouldn't hold up to modern sensibilities and has long since been surpassed by the countless successors that drew from its legacy. Nope, nope, nope, FFVII is still a good ass game in 2021, and that's not even considering its only ever-increasingly relevant political and ecological themes (but more on that in a moment).

Like a good book, FFVII may require some patience before unraveling its true greatness, or maybe some players (like me) just need some time to acclimate to its dated aesthetic, but either way, there is something timeless at the core of this game and the story it tells that elevates it far above the technical constraints of its era. Without going into spoilers I find myself resorting to stock phrases, but to put it simply: this game has a lot of charm, and it has a lot of heart. It also knows how to deliver its key story beats and how to balance tone and mood—when to be goofy, ominous, poignant, triumphant—all of of which the game can pull off as effectively as the best of them. It furthermore offers a well-designed RPG upgrade system that is fun to experiment with and keeps combat engaging, which, incidentally, features moments that are genuinely spectacular, such as the deliciously bonkers summon attacks. Can you believe it: a game from 1997 with goofy character models whose polygon count you can probably enumerate by eye, wowing me with its action set pieces in 2021? You best believe it. Oh, and have I mentioned that all of this is elevated by a fantastic soundtrack with some of the most iconic leitmotifs in this medium?

Having said all that, there's certainly a discussion to be had about the credibility of anti-capitalist messaging in a commercial product that had a total production cost in the range of $100 freaking million (the most expensive game ever at that time), or of anti-colonialist messaging in a game that uses fantasy animals as a metaphor for indigenous people, or of environmentalist messaging in a game that, while mostly steering towards a principled eco-anarchist argument (people should put an end to extractive capitalism and build a better society in reciprocity with nature), occasionally strays dangerously close to eco-fascism as well ("humans are the virus" and hence need to be culled on a global scale to enable a viable future for the surviving few), but given this entire minefield of potential pitfalls, the end result still somehow manages to hold it all together surprisingly well, and it certainly constitutes one of the better examples of radical politics in a blockbuster video game. Not sure how much of all this was just a happy accident or the result of principled if imperfect conviction on the side of the authors, which is why it will be particularly interesting to see where Tetsuya Nomura and co. are taking this new remake series. It must be said that the original kinda dropped the ball with the very ending of the game (it technically hinges on how you interpret the post-credits scene, though director Kitase seems to have (jokingly?) confirmed the "bad" interpretation in an interview), and the remake seems to be aware of this issue and is now hopefully building towards a better conclusion. That said, as an overall experience I would still rank the original game above last year's shiny first installment of the FFVII remake project. I love the remake for its sheer spectacle and bold take on the very concept of a remake, but it's got considerable pacing issues that prevent it from being the GOTY contender that it could have been. The original's pacing is oftentimes rightfully held up as one of the game's strongest points, so I really hope that the upcoming remake installments won't feel the need to drag out the rest of the story as much as the first part (which only covers the Midgar section).

I want to end this with a quote from Nier/Drakengard director Yoko Taro, taken from his GDC 2018 talk on the concept of freedom in video games: "To make people feel a sense of freedom, what's important is not volume—freedom is felt the moment that the perceptions held by the human mind are expanded." You start by giving the player a false impression of the game's limits, only to then expand on those limits. FFVII does this most noticeably in its transition from Midgar to the prototypical open world. You traverse the world of Gaia in the form of a miniature world map with simplified representations of places to enter, and while this surely blew people's minds back in the day, to me the entire thing just seemed hopelessly outdated, pitiful and barren when I stepped outside of Midgar for the first time. Only for my perception of the world to be expanded again and again. By the end of the game I was actually impressed by this game's world design and enjoyed my time traversing it, can you believe it? Though I guess having an overworld theme as sublimely beautiful as FFVII's main theme probably helped as well.

PS: If you're wondering about my username, it's actually a reference to the Aria manga by Kozue Amano. I've always been aware that there was also a character with the same name in FFVII, and while I can't say I actually ended up spending a lot of time with this game's Cait Sith (who was actually my least used party member), I did find it interesting what they did with this character in the story.

This game filled me with such pure glee and delight that I honestly couldn't stop smiling for an hour straight. That said, I'm afraid the controls are kinda iffy, making it hard to recommend this from a pure gameplay perspective—though I do love how mechanically adventurous it is for such a short title. If only this had the tight gameplay of something like Thumper, it would likely be a five-star contender. In any case, while I may not see much replay value in here, I will fondly remember my brief time with it. In fact, after finishing this game for the first time, it felt like it added a minimum of ten years to my life expectancy—pretty good bargain if you ask me...

I was hesitant to buy this on release for several reasons—promotional material that made it look like a grimdark misery fest, notorious working conditions at Naughty Dog, the usual ignorant gamer outrage fueled by echo chambers and incoherent YouTube rants masquerading as critique—but the first game was important enough to me in 2013 that I legitimately wanted to see how Joel and Ellie's story would play out, so when Part 2 finally went on sale, I bit the bullet and somehow managed to free up 90 GB on my PS4 to install this beast. Anyhow, what follows is by no means a formal review and more of an assortment of quick thoughts on the game at hand.

Firstly, it goes without saying that on a technical level, this is every bit as spectacular as I was led to expect. The meticulous attention to detail, the stunning performances and animation work, the breathtaking set pieces, the tangibility of the game world, the almost complete lack of performance issues even on my humble PS4 Slim (I experienced one crash, one glitch, and only two areas with notable frame rate drops over my 20+ hour playthrough), all of this points to a developer staunchly committed to its premier spot at the industry's technical frontier. Unfortunately, this perfectionism comes at a human price, and I would have gladly waited three more years for this sequel if it had avoided the whole crunch issue. I'm not happy about rewarding this kind of work culture and increasing the dividends of Sony's shareholders, but I'm also skeptical of the idea of voting with your wallet and think that exploitative labour conditions need broad structural change more than my individual consumer choice. (That said, I don't view the sentiment that there is no ethical consumption under capitalism as a get out of jail free card to be a reckless consumer, I just think there are more impactful choices I can make.)

Moving on to the narrative, let me start by saying that everything related to Joel here was executed in brilliant and entirely consequential fashion, and that everyone of the 55k clowns who have signed that laughable petition for Sony to change this game's narrative from the ground up is a spoiled baby who wants nothing but lazy and toothless fan service. The most important thing a sequel can do is evolve past the first installment while also meaningfully reflecting back on it, and this is exactly what Part 2 is doing. There is certainly a lot of valuable, thoughtful criticism that can be leveled against this game, but the inane bullshit that Gamers (TM) will regurgitate to avoid having to engage with anything outside their tiny comfort zone only serves to drown out those legitimate criticisms. I know that mocking Gamers (TM) is low-hanging fruit, but jeez, this has to stop, this art form deserves so much better than that.

Anyway. On the level of a realistically told, uncompromising character drama and mood piece in a post-apocalyptic setting, both parts in this series are honestly about as good as it gets. Part 2 is certainly more flawed than the original, but this comes with the territory of being also a much more ambitious work, and at the end of the day, I am tempted to take ambition that largely succeeds over a shorter and tighter package, even if the former carries some uncomfortable flaws with it. TLOU2 is certainly not a literary masterpiece or anything, but it definitely is a lot more nuanced and layered than the countless online caricatures of this being a simplistic "violence is bad!!" morality tale. Granted, director Neil Druckmann talks a lot in interviews about how this game's central themes revolve around "cycles of violence", but Naughty Dog is known to be a highly collaborative studio with significant artistic autonomy granted to its developers, who often bring their own ideas to the table. Besides, although I'm someone who is considerate of authorial intent, I don't let it dictate my own experience with any given text, and to me, the whole cycle of violence thing feels more like a vehicle to drive home what is really at the heart of this sequel: the question of whether Ellie can forgive Joel for his lie at the end of part one. The ending makes this particularly clear, and when viewed from this lens, I started to gain a deeper understanding of Ellie as a character and why she made a certain choice in the final act of the game that I'm sure most people (including me) found baffling at first sight. (Not to downplay Abby's role in this game, whose section is arguably even stronger than Ellie's first half, but I don't feel compelled to write anything about Abby right now. No doubt a daring choice from Naughty Dog and one that largely paid off.)

So, while I think the character drama here is excellent, the real problem with this game lies more in the political subtext that this drama is embedded in. There is a great Vice article examining this game's problematic handling of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in more detail. There are few things I appreciate more than the ability to examine complicated issues with genuine nuance and perspective, but I always have to roll my eyes when such an attempt at nuance reduces to a centrist "both sides bad" position, and this game is no exception with regard to its depiction of its two rival factions. However, while significant enough to be impossible to ignore, this aspect of the game still felt more like a side show to the character and mood-driven core of the game, which is why its impact on my overall reception is somewhat measured. Moreover, the lazy moral equivalence is largely limited to the aforementioned political embedding, whereas the juxtaposition between Ellie and Abby is definitely more principled than that. While initially both characters share a lot of similarities, their paths notably diverge in a way that makes it clear which path is preferable.

As for being a supposedly cynical, grimdark misery fest, here the game actually positively surprised me as well. While I'm not a fan of monolithically miserable works where characters suffer just for the sake of suffering (one thing I was very apprehensive about ever since I saw the first footage of TLOU2), I do think that a bleak narrative tone and atmosphere can have certain cathartic and therapeutic qualities under the right conditions. This game does indeed largely fulfill those conditions, as I do think it uses its overwhelming bleakness not as an end in itself but to foster empathy and humanity in a sincere fashion, plus it features just enough genuinely touching and earnest character moments to avoid being suffocatingly grim.

Another common criticism is that TLOU2 is a heavy-handed attempt at shaming the player for indulging in video game violence, but this indicates a lack of understanding of the different types of interactive protagonists that are possible in this medium, which I would roughly categorize as player-as-author and player-as-actor. Games that belong in the former category typically feature branching narratives and/or protagonists with sparse writing in order to let the player project their own fantasies and moral ideals (or vices) onto the character. However, the games in The Last of Us series belong firmly in the second category, telling linear (in terms of player choice) narratives with a fixed, canonical cast of characters, akin to traditional narrative media. Yes, you can do amazing things with player agency and interactivity that are not possible in film and literature, but not every game has to do that. If a developer wants to make a mechanically straightforward stealth TPS interspersed with absurdly high quality cinematics and a heavy focus on written characters, by all means, they should go for it. But this also means that this is very much Ellie's story (and Joel's, and Abby's), not the player's. So, no, the game is not trying to shame you for enjoying its very own gameplay (which is excellent) and the virtual violence that comes with it; it is critiquing its characters for the real violence they inflict in the fictional universe they inhabit (and whether there is value in that depends entirely on what the larger narrative wants to achieve). This has always been my understanding of games like The Last of Us, and accordingly at no point in my playthrough did it feel like the game was using its interactivity to question my moral character. This is something for each one of us to investigate for ourselves while reflecting on the story just witnessed, not from the act of playing it. Give me a stealth shooter in a different context and I am likely to consider a pacifist route for my playthrough. In this case, however, I was naturally compelled to play in-character as Ellie and go on a violent murder spree, because that's the story being told here, and I wanted to stay true to it and see where it leads.

I don't have much to say about the LGBTQ representation in this game; it certainly leaves room for improvement (with one particularly questionable narrative choice), but overall I'd still consider it a step in the right direction and a significant plus for the game. I don't see how unequivocal condemnation here is anything other than an attempt to keep up with this game's immense hype and toxic discourse. Yes, throughout fiction there is a long history of queer characters being condemned to horrible fates for being queer, but don't confuse the grimness of the world of The Last of Us with a continuation of that history. There is one (out of three) significant LGBTQ characters here who plays way too heavily into that trope, but the character itself is still written in a meaningful and reasonably layered way, not to mention that the final destination is a resolutely positive and affirmative one.

The pacing gets a lot flak, which is not entirely unjustified. Mechanically the game is super tight, but the core gameplay loop is indeed very repetitive and occupies a large chunk of the total play time. I still largely enjoyed the gameplay sequences because the game really succeeded in immersing me in its post-apocalyptic atmosphere and because I largely appreciated the meticulous level design, but even so I think this game could have been about five hours shorter (others might argue for ten hours).

Last but not least, Naughty Dog really went above and beyond in terms of accessibility options here, which is also covered in Game Maker's Toolkit excellent 2020 accessibility retrospective. This was actually the first time I realized that I could use some of these options myself for quality of life improvements, so I disabled all button mashing quick time events because that shit fucking sucks. Credit where credit is due, here Naughty Dog really did an unambiguously great job, raising the bar in a way that ought to become an industry standard (especially in countries that still lag behind in this area, such as Japan, which is a damn shame because they obviously make some of the best games).

I don't need a closing paragraph since this is not a formal review, but the tl;dr boils down to this: TLOU2 is a technical masterpiece and ambitious character drama that gets a lot of things right as a sequel to the original while also being bold enough to explore new territory, though it must be noted that the game is tainted with bad political subtext, moderate pacing issues and some mixed but still largely positive and valuable LGBTQ representation. Also, Gamers are babies, more news at eleven.

Scratch my old rating, I'm bumping this to 4.5 stars now that I have completed my playthrough on hard. The pacing of this game is still undeniably fucked (especially compared to the original), but it's significantly less bothersome the second time around.

The thing is, I was so enamoured by the world, story, and characters of this game that I binged my first playthrough in a matter of a few days, which takes a poorly paced game and makes it even worse. Being forced to fight a million bullet-spongey bosses and having to go through the many blatantly drawn-out and uninspired connecting levels that bridge the game's more interesting areas and set pieces hence frequently felt like a chore to someone like me, eager to advance the story. Moreover, it took me quite a while to befriend this game's combat system on my first playthrough, so the damage was already done by the time I had really started to appreciate it for what it is. But with the gameplay being a much stronger intrinsic motivator for my hard playthrough, I at least enjoyed most of my combat encounters this time around. Doesn't mean I don't still want to have a word or two with whoever thought it a good idea to bloat these levels with boring filler obstacles that are always repeated three or four times over. Even the mostly enjoyable banter between the characters couldn't entirely redeem some of these levels for me—I mean Christ, I'm half-convinced that these slow ass robot arms are a subtle form of psychological torture, and you'll have to trudge through this area three fucking times (not even counting mandatory backtracking) for 100% completion.

One thing that I'm also not too hot on is the game's insistence on sluggishly "cinematic" character controls (outside of combat, that is), and, tied to this, the overabundance of physical loading gates that require painfully slow animations to overcome. Moreover, there is a constant struggle going between this game and the player over who gets to control the player character, and while the frequent transitions between cutscenes, semi-controllable sequences and fully controllable sequences are remarkably smooth on a visual level, the controls often lag behind, leading to many moments of delayed responsiveness (aka the mortifying ordeal of pressing a button with no in-game response). Constantly being forced to slowly walk or jog is very annoying as well, which I suspect might also be partially tied to loading issues, but maybe the developers were also afraid that the player would simply rush through their carefully crafted environments. Alas, they worried in vain: as someone who can spend hours in photo mode, I absolutely love to slow down in games and enjoy the beautiful scenery and atmosphere whenever presented with the opportunity—but I just don't want to be forced to do it through sluggish controls. Relatively realistic character movement can be appropriate for certain types of realistically told, cinematic games like The Last of Us (which also intrinsically pulls this off better), but when it comes to bombastic action titles where your character performs outlandish acrobatics while wielding a sword the size of a snowboard, I vastly, vastly prefer the smooth, quick, elegant, responsive controls of something like NieR: Automata.

So far these control issues are related to non-combat sequences, so let's look at the other side of the coin. As I said, I ultimately enjoyed the combat enough to play this a second time, intrigued by the additional gameplay constraints on hard that really force you to master the combat and not rely on item spam. Either way, I'm happy to say that Remake is for the most part an outstanding action title. Turns out that using abilities in bullet time is a surprisingly effective (not to mention visually spectacular) synthesis between modern action game sensibilities and the active time-based roots of the original title. Changing between party members in real time also adds a welcome layer of variation and tactical possibilities that I greatly enjoyed. That said, while overall I do love the combat here, it effectively capitalizes on its excellent premise only about 80% of the time. Unfortunately, the devil is in the details, and so the remaining 20% could still feel really stupid and frustrating even the second time around: there can be way too much annoying stunlock, dodging oftentimes doesn't feel as effective as it should, the camera and lock-on mechanics can feel rather clumsy at times—nothing fundamentally broken, but still in definite need of further refinement. Also, it would be nice to have savable, character-specific loadouts to avoid manually switching Materia between battles. A whole lot of time spent in menus in this game.

As for the game's sights and sounds: obviously spectacular. Killer soundtrack, stunning vistas, seemingly infinite animation budget, some of the best damn lighting I have seen in any game. Yeah, there are some texture issues here and there, but they rarely distract from the overall impression.

I'm not interested in discussing the story in any depth here, so I will only briefly touch on a few things. Firstly, of course the premise of a tight-knit group of earnest resistance fighters (who are also all sexy bastards) opposing an authoritarian, ultra-capitalist regime is totally my shit. The plot may be a bunch of fucking nonsense, but that is hardly important, because as long as you have interesting themes, characters, and worldbuilding to ground your plot, disbelief can be easily suspended. I'm also very much digging the tonal shifts between the game's over the top theatrics, joyful frivolity, and occasional moments of quiet beauty (the rooftop stroll was possibly my favourite moment from my first playthrough). Lastly, I'm actually quite fascinated by the meta-narrative that is interwoven here. Clearly, this part features a ton of setup for some big departures awaiting us in future installments, and while this could still potentially end up in disaster, for now I am cautiously optimistic, given the immense effort that Square is pouring into this remake saga, coupled with the genuine care and understanding this first part has already displayed for the original characters. I hope that the upcoming parts will continue this balancing act of deconstructing the traditional remake while also staying true to the original game, so that we ultimately end up with two complimentary versions of FFVII. Faithful, high-quality remakes like Bluepoint's 2018 Shadow of the Colossus are certainly nice to have, but in general I think that treating remakes as an opportunity for meaningful evolution and commentary is a more worthwhile direction to go for this art form.

Anyway, could have been an easy 5.0 star game without all the aforementioned caveats, even top 10 material.

It's not hard to see why people often call this a love-it-or-hate-it game, but I personally fall more in the love-it-and-hate-it camp.

God, where to even start. This is by far the most conflicted I have ever felt about any piece of fiction. Subarashiki Hibi, or SubaHibi for short, is an undeniably weird, beautiful, insane, unique, ambitious, fucked up, and, for some people at least, powerful narrative experience, albeit one that is bloated with overindulgent shock value, severe pacing issues, redundant dialogue, pointless fanservice, vastly inconsistent writing quality, moments of embarrassingly bad taste and just an overall tactless and heavy-handed treatment of sensitive issues like bullying, sexual violence and suicide.

And yet, in spite of SubaHibi’s large number of drawn-out, mind-numbing, nauseating low points, there is still a certain layer to SubaHibi that resonated strongly enough with me to push me through this near 60-hour mammoth. But before I can get to the positives, I first need to elaborate on my criticisms with it, because that's the first thing anyone needs to hear before deciding whether to plunge down this particular rabbit hole or not.

Firstly, I don't think my harsh criticisms of SubaHibi can be the swept under the rug on the grounds of this being just some sort of pulpy throwaway visual novel, as it very clearly begs to be taken seriously as an ambitious work of art, and hence I will judge it accordingly. Maybe some hardcore VN readers will praise SubaHibi for blending trashy eroge material with serious artistic ambitions, but to a first-time eroge reader like me with no particular interest in the medium, those two aspects of the game were in frequent conflict each other, leading to an oftentimes dissonant experience.

Look, I knew full well that this game was going to feature some depraved shit down the line, and I certainly don’t have anything against artistic works exploring difficult topics per se. But it is hard for me to buy into the excuse that the excessive amount of cruel/shocking/vulgar material here all exists in service of a greater artistic goal—and yes, there is a limit to how much of that content a story can sustain, even if the end goal is to make the positive moments seem more powerful in contrast. SubaHibi features multiple scenes of severe sexual abuse and excessive bullying that are depicted in excruciating length and detail, oftentimes with very flimsy to non-existent narrative justification, being neither crucial to the plot nor offering any new insights into the game's themes or characters. The game doesn't even try to hide that many of these scenes only exist for the sole purpose of generating cheap thrills—be it to shock unsuspecting readers or to pander to people who bought it primarily on the promise of an eroge with fucked up sexual content. Why else would there be a scene recollection feature where you can only revisit the hentai scenes, and why the hell does that include the fucked up rape scenes?

To illustrate my point further, let me compare SCA-Ji's SubaHibi to an acclaimed Japanese pop cultural icon of similar emotional weight and thematic ambition, Hideaki Anno's anime series Neon Genesis Evangelion (which evidently played a huge role in influencing SubaHibi, although never explicitly referenced). Beneath surface appearances, and to oversimplify a bit, both of these works share a similar premise, using grand, insane, convoluted narratives with downright apocalyptic stakes (real or imagined) to tell deeply personal and introspective stories about the difficulty of connecting with others and the pain of living in an existentially uncertain universe. However, both are also about finding the courage to persevere despite how hard everything can get, emphasizing the importance of reaching out to others and revealing a firm belief in the possibility of a better future. The difference between these works, for me at least, is one of authenticity. While Evangelion succeeds very powerfully in making me feel like the immense pain it depicts is coming from a real place, one shared by the author and specifically woven into his work as both a form of self-reflection and a sincere desire to reach out to others, SubaHibi very often feels like it is fetishizing trauma more than anything, using it as a narrative tool to either shock you into submission or make you horny depending on how fucked up your tastes are.

To mention a few more specific things, here are three content warnings you should be aware of. Firstly, this game features a nauseatingly homophobic depiction of a gay side character, invoking the absolute worst stereotypes of gay men as sexual predators that come to mind (whereas, incidentally, the lesbian hentai scenes are portrayed in an excessively romantic fashion, clearly because male audiences can jack off to this). Secondly, SubaHibi is creepily obsessed with the idea of fucking your sister. Or rather sisters. Both the younger and the older. Imouto and onee-san. (While a certain relationship is technically not of biological nature, it is unambiguously implied to be sisterly in spirit). Which leads to my third point, the game features a downright pedophilic incest scene somewhat late in the game, completely ruining a central relationship and probably making you want to throw up inside. Your only options are to skip through the scene in question as fast as possible or simply quit the game entirely, but I suspect by that point most readers will choose the former option after having already invested so many hours into the story and wanting to know how everything plays out.

Anyway, at this point I'm kinda tired of letting this game frustrate me any further, so let's move on to some positives points. That said, I would be surprised if what I have written so far has not already convinced you that there is no way in hell you will ever spend any time or money on this game, which, to be honest, is probably for the better. Nonetheless, as someone who has already followed the rabbit hole to the end to see where it leads, I feel obliged to report both the good and the bad.

I will start with two points that don't require elaboration but should be mentioned regardless: firstly, the soundtrack is quite fantastic. The more sentimental pieces and piano ballads in particular are absolutely spectacular and sublimely evocative, but many of the more casual or unsettling background tracks are also very strong. Another plus is the art: character sprites and backgrounds are of generally high quality, with some of CGs being quite stunning in fact. The flagship CG with (part-time) protagonist Yuki framed against the towering sky is an all-time favourite.

The narrative structure of this game is as brilliant and ambitious as it is ridiculous and convoluted—in a good way—featuring a captivating sense of mystery, masterful foreshadowing and a perspective-shifting style of storytelling that takes Rashomon to its logical extreme. Unfortunately, the characterization and character development ranges from fascinating to idiotic: the heavyweights in the cast are mostly great, but many supporting characters can generally be filed under one-dimensional, empty-headed, wholly dehumanized stereotypes.

Either way, one of the best aspects about this cursed visual novel is the way it draws so much inspiration from a myriad of external sources, both Western and Japanese, including poetry, literature, philosophy and otaku culture. Importantly, this game's heavy reliance on intertextuality does not rely on mere empty name-dropping (although it certainly does some of that too), as SCA-Ji manages to seamlessly incorporate a whole wealth of material into SubaHibi's narrative and themes, on both micro and macroscopic scales, in a way that is synergetic and genuinely impressive. This may sound contradictory to my earlier, unfavourable comparison to Evangelion, but here I'm talking about the experience at large, not just the depraved shit. Obviously the whole rape torturefest aspect of SubaHibi only occupies a minority of the overall reading time, otherwise I would have never gotten through it. For example, one of the most fundamental influences, and cited many times throughout the novel, is something entirely unexpected: Wittgenstein’s Tractatus-Logico Philosophicus. In fact, the Tractatus forms the entire basis of SubaHibi’s core philosophy, which I must say I found quite powerful and resonant, though more for its poetic rather than intellectual merit. A quote from A. C. Grayling's Very Brief Introduction to Wittgenstein I think hits the nail on the head and equally applies to SubaHibi's philosophical ambitions as well:

"The vividness of Wittgenstein's metaphors, the unexpected examples and turns of thought, generate the sense that something profound is being expressed in his writings. Wittgenstein is in some ways a poet. Once one has sifted his texts and has ceased to be dazzled by the brilliance of metaphor and the poetical quality, once finds much less argument, and very much less definiteness in the crucial conceptions, than is expected in and demanded from philosophical inquiry. This is disappointing. But perhaps the value of Wittgenstein's work lies as much in its poetry, and therefore in its suggestiveness, as in its substance."

Dedicated fans of SubaHibi sometimes characterize it as a 2deep4u philosophical treatise, but for me at the heart of it all lies a simple but life-affirming message about the ability of two isolated souls to reach out to one another in a meaningful way, which is rendered particularly powerful because of this game's hyper-obsession with themes of death, solipsism and the limits of one's own cognitive world. On a meta level this conviction regarding the possibility of meaningful interpersonal bridges is also extended to the author and the reader (as well as art and audience in general), but I think I'll let you explore the rest for yourself. Let me just say that I do think the manner in which it approaches this topic does have a kernel of profundity, though more on an intangible level that is hard to articulate (which I could say ties into the game's exploration of the limits of language, but may as well just be attributed to my insufficient writing skills).

Anyway, in conclusion: while this game will often make the reader feel miserable and disgusted and has absolutely no shame in putting its characters through tremendous, largely pointless cruelty, I wouldn't go so far as to say it has no love for its characters or the player. SubaHibi simply takes the idea of emotional range to its extreme, for better or worse. (Truthfully, oftentimes for worse.) It goes through extraordinary lengths to end on a resolutely positive and uplifting final note, but unless you have an alarmingly high tolerance for excessive depravity and cruelty, you are unlikely to emerge from this experience without feeling seriously conflicted about it. Ultimately, I think the most revealing praise I can give is that, despite its enormous length and plethora of shortcomings and low points, SubaHibi was still worth it in the end. I will miss it and I will cherish it, as much as I will curse it.

Incredible, one of the best survival/exploration games I have played. A lot of people seem to get low-key horror vibes from this, which is understandable (godspeed to players with thalassophobia), but I was mostly just in awe this entire time. The atmosphere is to die for, the underwater scenery is breathtaking, the gameplay systems have just the right amount of depth without being convoluted, the sense of player progression is continuously strong and contrasted nicely with the increasingly bizarre and hostile deep sea biomes, even the writing and scenario are impressive. I wish I had a PC to play this, however, because the game has a few frame rate and asset pop-in issues on the PS4 Slim. Even so, this was a winner from start to finish, a source of countless, unforgettable moments of confronting the unknown.

A visually stunning and highly polished fanmade reinterpretation of Perfect Cherry Blossom with an impressive amount of fresh new patterns to boot. The music is pretty great too, even if not quite on the same level as the original. The soundtrack consists of both Touhou remixes and original works and has a very different vibe to it, lacking the dizzying energy of ZUN's compositions and replacing his signature trumpet sound with a more string-based approach and traditional Japanese instrumentation, in line with the game's main setting. The difficulty level is a bit more relaxed compared to the original, but I can't complain since Lunatic is probably still out of my reach. Also, rejoice if you love the sound of grazing as much as I do, because the hitboxes for grazing here are enormous. (Though needless to say, this inevitably lowers the skill ceiling for scoring.) My only serious complaint is the pacing: clocking in at 40 minutes, this is a good 5-10 minutes longer than PCB, which I don't think is entirely justified and can make starting a new run a somewhat uncomfortably large commitment. Regardless, this is worth buying at full price for the visuals and atmosphere alone. It feels like visiting the most enchanting and mythical Japanese cherry blossom fireworks festival ever!

There is a great detective story buried here, starting with a seemingly straightforward Yakuza murder case that spirals deeper and deeper into a web of wild, far-reaching conspiracies. But Jesus Christ, there is just too much padding. This didn't need to be a 30+ hour game. Ryu Ga Gotoku Studio's design philosophy is way outdated at this point; except for the pretty neat friend system this game is actually a noticeable step down from Yakuza 0 in terms of overall design (the latter being my only other point of reference from Yakuza mastermind Toshihiro Nagoshi so far).

Although I have a lot of love for Yakuza 0 and even Judgment to some degree, I'm not sure how much more time I will be spending exploring the studio's other titles. No matter how good their storytelling may be, if they truly want to retain my long-term interest, they need to show progress on the design front as well. Judgment is definitely an attempt to break away from their formula, but it's a superficial effort at best. Despite some new gameplay elements tailored to the detective angle this game is going for, you will still spend most of the time between cutscenes engaged in quickly tiresome street brawls and the occasional minigame. Unfortunately, the lack of a story-driven campaign attached to any of these minigames is yet another way in which Judgment feels like a step down from Yakuza 0. Moreover, Ryu Ga Gotoku is simply uninterested in providing interesting combat mechanics and enemies, hoping that the over the top heat action cinematics alone are enough to keep fights engaging. While these cinematics are indeed quite priceless, even the most outrageous ones get stale after the umpteenth time.

This is true for the game at large. The overall presentation absolutely kicks ass and Kamurocho feels alive as ever, but it really cannot sustain a game of this length. You've already seen what there is to see after the first few hours (especially if you're already familiar with the setting from the Yakuza games), so from then on the vast majority of the game will have you running up and down the same few streets, beating up the same few goons around every other corner just to progress the story. The characters are mostly cool, Yagami is a badass protagonist (in his own, aloof way) and Kaito is the perfect ex-Yakuza sidekick. Sadly, the few female characters that exist are relegated to obnoxiously misogynistic supporting roles, serving as either bait, glorified cheerleaders or tragic murder victims.

So yeah, these are some very generous 4 stars I'm awarding here. Gotta give credit to a game where smashing random people's bicycles and maintaining a constant stock of Jack Daniel's are your most powerful combat tactics.

Although The Last Guardian is definitely plagued by unfortunate frame rate issues and some mechanically clunky bits (in line with previous efforts from Fumito Ueda), overall I would still consider the conclusion to the legendary Team Ico trilogy pretty damn underrated and probably even a minor masterpiece. For one thing, I'm just immensely impressed with Trico, the level of verisimilitude here is worlds beyond any AI companion I've seen in any video game. While I can certainly understand other people's frustrations with Trico's occasional unresponsiveness, I was surprised by how much patience I had with Trico. It genuinely felt like I was gradually bonding with a scared animal that needed me as much as I needed it, making it difficult for me to be mad if Trico didn't always immediately obeyed my commands. And of course, the breathtakingly gorgeous, fully realized and brilliantly interconnected game world is a true marvel to behold and stands testament to a team that has mastered the art of virtual architecture. I don't have much more to say; I suppose I could keep on gushing about how much I want to have those Ueda aesthetics injected directly into my veins, but I'd rather leave you with a nice little video essay by Jacob Geller, confidently titled The Most Beautiful Moment of the Generation (though it goes without saying that I strongly encourage you to finish the game yourself before watching that video).

With its humble origins as a Master's thesis that eventually matured into the best possible iteration of the (arguably narrow but not inherently contemptible) Annapurna ideal of the Artistic Indie Title, Outer Wilds is a milestone in curiosity-driven game design and an utterly brilliant marriage between the sheer cosmic awe of 2001: A Space Odyssey and the warmth of a cozy campfire on a clear summer night. The heavily physics-inspired design of the game world and the way it incorporates these numerous interlocking mysteries that all point towards something much greater feels genuinely boundary-pushing and is something that no one with even a passing interest in the medium should miss out on.

While I don't want to evoke the impression that this game is only for physics buffs such as me (it is every bit as much for people into archeological exploration or simply great adventure game storytelling), I do want to emphasize that the game's fidelity towards its real-time orbital physics simulation is downright incredible. I highly recommend the excellent videos by Noclip and Super Bunnyhop to learn more about the game's scientific background once you've completed the game (it's best to go into it as blind as possible). This is genuinely fascinating stuff to me—it's safe to say that never before have I wanted to talk with a development team about the technical details of their work as much as in this case. I even respect the game's enthusiasm for the wilder side of modern physics, and while its portrayal of quantum mechanics quickly maxed out my Quantum Bullshit Detector, I didn't really mind that the game's use of artistic license was doing more heavy lifting in some cases than in others, thanks to its overall more than solid scientific foundation and highly creative use thereof. In fact, Outer Wilds's (somewhat misguided) conception of the uncertainty principle was incorporated so brilliantly into one of its many bizarre and exotic locations that it ended up as one of my favourite moments in the game.

With this physics preamble out of the way, there is another aspect that I quickly want to discuss here. Namely, people who have a low tolerance for frequent deaths should probably get a fair warning before trying this game. I've seen some players mistake Outer Wilds for a relaxing adventure game, only to then become frustrated when confronted with its harsh setting. Expecting this to be about relaxed exploration would be a vast disservice to what the game is actually going for, but this point requires some nuance and elaboration, so bear with me for a second.

Death comes quick in Outer Wilds. Many of these deaths I personally found to be very memorable and genuinely amusing, such as crashing into the sun while still learning how to properly fly my spaceship. The controls are a bit tricky, particularly because the game fully respects momentum conservation (meaning accelerating in any given direction for a certain period requires an equal amount of deceleration to come to a full stop again), but the game provides sufficient flying aids to make mastery of the ship well within reach of the early game. But having said that, of course a few of the deaths in Outer Wilds did nonetheless manage to frustrate me at times (and I say that as someone who considers FromSoftware their favourite developer). Particularly problematic are the handful of platforming sections in this game, which, due to the tricky movement controls, can lead to more setbacks than necessary. Moreover, there will also be players who will find the game's time loop mechanic to be an additional source of frustration, since the time limit it imposes might result in a stressful experience that clashes with their idea of a relaxing adventure game. Although I can somewhat sympathize with that perspective (I too had similar apprehensions at the very beginning of the game), overall I loved the time loop mechanic and consider it an essential ingredient in what makes this game so special.

I need to reiterate that Outer Wilds is not trying to be a relaxing adventure game, at least not exclusively. It presents a universe that is cold, bizarre, hostile, and uncaring. Its apocalyptic premise is very much intended to make you feel stressed out... at first. The point is, however, that amidst all that cosmic hostility and indifference, you can always discover these small niches to relax, to appreciate the majestic beauty before your eyes, to roast a marshmallow while one of your fellow space explorers is strumming a cozy tune on their banjo. The game wants you to let go of the idea of doing everything at once and instead realize that it's okay to take an occasional break and marvel at the wonders of the universe despite (or because of?) your limited time. And if you fail every once in a while by flying too close to the sun or comically crashing into a planet? It's not the end of the world! (Of course, in a delightful bit of irony, it sort of is.) The important thing is to keep at it. Persistent progress is key. Whether the resulting experience is stressful or relaxing depends in large part on your frame of mind.

I'd be lying if I said that I had reached a state of Zen-like harmony with the universe by the end of the game; of course I also had my little frustrations every now and then, even in the late game. But by and large, I was able to embrace the game's philosophy and adapt to its rhythm, which I don't expect will work out for everybody, and that's fair. For me, however, the end result was a truly awe-inspiring and unique video game experience that still lingers on my mind long after having reached the ending. And, oh boy, what an ending indeed!