Yeah, it's good. I love the characters and the little world it builds for itself. There's a very somber yet comforting feel to it all, especially the Refuge, my favorite part of the game. I also found that it handles its metanarrative elements with much more tact and grace than other similar indie games of the time, such as, say, Stanley Parable with its pompousness, or DDLC with its banality and overall shit quality. I'm glad to find something that gets these things right every once in a while, at least in my own eyes.

Knocked this out in roughly 5 hours total while waiting for my Twitter account to get unlocked. Not a long game at all, would definitely recommend giving it a try, especially for fans of other RPG Maker titles.

I finally did muster through Super Mario Sunshine after about three and a half years of leaving it on the backburner, and I must say I still don't get it. It's not all bad but it's like, not very fun to me at all. I found its best moments to be pretty decent, and put up against Super Mario 64 and Super Mario Galaxy I don't really think it stands a chance in most if not all fields. I did not gel with the aesthetic, controls, or level design nearly as much as in either of them.

The biggest thing that irks me about Sunshine, though, is it doesn't feel as open as it lets on. You can beat the game with a minimum of 50 shines (I completed it with 53), but rather than a basic threshold to close off the final level, like how you can get any 70 stars in 64 to reach the end, you are required to do all the first seven missions of each level. In order, too. You can't go out of order like you can in 64, you have to do mission 1, then mission 2, etc. This works fine in Galaxy because the level design reflects it better, it's already more linear to begin with in its design and progression. Sunshine's level design does not reflect its linearity, it presents itself as a lot more open and implies a lot more freedom than you're actually provided. The end result takes away the feeling of free exploration, and it begins to feel more like crossing off a checklist than finding things yourself and reaping the rewards for doing so. Some of these required missions are frankly quite awful as well. A few of the bosses (Petey Piranha 2, Manta) are super tedious and slow, and some other missions littered around are bordering on unacceptable. I could not locate any enjoyment to be found in the "chuckster" mission, for example, and there's just no way to get around it without enduring it. If you have a star in 64 you really hate, chances are you can just work around it, but such is not the case this time.

I figure you can warm up to this with enough playthroughs, but the first is deeply unsatisfying and unrewarding. A competently made and designed game for the most part, but mundane and unenjoyable especially in comparison to the high points surrounding it in the series. Why would I want to play it some more in order to warm up to it if the first playthrough was so consistently rough? I dunno, man. It just doesn't really make sense to me. I really see now why this seems to be the most divisive of the 3D Mario entries, and try as I might to enjoy myself during its runtime, I can't seem to do so often enough to really call it something I like as an overall experience. I'm just glad I at least have it off my back now.

I'm moving. I'm going through things. I'm scared.

I'm choosing what gets kept, what needs to go. I have so much to sell. I feel overwhelmed.

Today I gave away my Animal Crossing amiibo cards. I had a special binder I gave away, too. My friend and I, we couldn't help but paw through it.

Baabara was my first neighbor. Kevin was my first friend. I set his catchphrase to "bromeo," which pissed off my boyfriend to no end (and delighted me in equal measure.) I built a shrine of public works projects when Keaton left. I paid 17 million bells to a forum user for Eric. I wrote in my real world journal how much I wanted to cry when Annabelle left. She went to my sister's village - it wasn't the same.

The year I played Animal Crossing: New Leaf was the year I got and had depression the worst. I played 1,000+ hours of this game. I 100%'d it. There was not a square inch of my town that wasn't thoughtfully decorated. I had every piece of furniture, every holiday event item from every region, every piece of clothing. My house was immaculate, my museum a marvel. Places that I would legitimately enjoy spending time in. I stopped playing because I literally ran out of things to do.

I once spent 8 hours resetting my game because I was so particular about where Bianaca put her house and I refused to compromise. I didn't like the system of drawing my paths, so I covered them all with 4-leaf clover. I learned how to hack my 3DS because of this game. (Fuck you Isabelle, that bridge needs to be behind my house at an angle to get to the train station and like hell I care about your zoning laws. I OWN YOU!) Blue and gold roses, purple pansies, every square littered with opulences that made visitors describe my town of Merriam as a wonderland.

G3 B3 G4 G4 A4 G4(held) F4 E4 (rest) D4 E4 D4 C4

I spent so long writing that song and it still comes to mind so easily. (The first D4 is actually a wildcard in-game, but it’s a D4 when hummed correctly.) It worked so well as a chime entering a store. I remember how Pashmina always squeaked singing the first D4. It felt like such a wonderful anthem in so many ways for so many of its uses. I was always taken off guard when visiting another town with a different tune, and always felt so natural and at home whenever I came back to it.

Do you know how invested I was talking to that little hedgehog at the sewing machine until I became her friend? Knowing nothing about this franchise, not knowing that she was a series staple gimmick? I was ecstatic.

When Reese had a special on sharks I was at the island fishing sharks all day long.

The amount I loved these little animal critters is legitimately Fucked. Up.

Seriously.

It seemed so natural the stories that sprung up in my mind. Al and Ceaser were the weird gay couple that were ugly but happy. Cookie bullied Rhonda into moving, and then left herself when there was no one to control. Pashmina had her eye on Kevin, who only had his eye on the ball. Julian was the cool friend I didn't think I deserved to have, and Henry left because he felt the same way.

When they sang Happy Birthday to me I near bawled my eyes out. Because for as touching and heart-warming as it was to have these little spirits sharing love for me, spirits that I had loved so much, I was still, in the real world, alone and playing my 3DS on my birthday.

That's the real rub of the magic and terror of Animal Crossing. Magical because you feel real emotions. Terrifying because you can see the code. They're puppets. Dolls. Elaborate and adorable, but predictable - and you still love them all the same.

But they're kind. They're understanding. You can hurt their feelings, blow them off, mess up their yard - and they'll still write you letters when they live next door, give you presents, and stop by your house to see what you're up to. Maybe each individual interaction is annoying, or doesn't register as important. But in aggregate, those emotions stack up. Each time they give you that piece of fruit you were looking for. That rare piece of furniture that completes your set. Each time they change outfits into something so stupid or so cute that it sticks in your brain. You feel real little things. Imperfectly perfect little moments seeded in time enough to weave in with the passage of time in your real life.

When I had insomnia, Static stared at the moon with me. I remember naming my town at my sister's graduation party. I remember my parents watching the New Year's ball drop on the TV and then looking at the fireworks in Merriam. I remember sitting at the kitchen table when the town was covered in snow for the first time. I remember hunting for beetles at Tortimer Island while dying of summer heat at my uncle's place in Arizona.

I have memories. Good ones. Real places, real emotions of these happy little animal people. And yet these little animal people are not. fucking. real.

Somewhere on a back-up hard drive or a laptop I lost the charging cable to, I have the save data for the perfect date of Merriam. A day in May in a particular year. Where the hydrangeas are in bloom, and the weather is perfect, and everyone who is supposed to be there, is there.

Do you know how raw and cringe it is to talk about loving anything about this game? Like, if you don't understand the appeal of this series, GOOD. Be healthy. Have self-respect. Everyone over-shared about New Horizons because the pandemic ruined everyone's sense of shame. But loving this game is not good. It's not healthy.

At the same time.

That grammar is hiding a lot. Was loving this game healthy for me? No. But was I healthy? Would I have been healthy if I hadn’t been playing this game? Fuck no.

You need time to get invested in Animal Crossing. Real world time that you do not get back. Real world time that is, in fact, a valid currency for trying to make connections in the real world. The potential opportunity cost for getting "the most" out of Animal Crossing is wild.

I hated New Horizons because I could tell the villagers didn't want to be my friend. They wanted to be Instagram fodder. But maybe that is for the best. Because that recontextualizes the appeal of the game to being something that you show off to other humans. That the Animal Crossing aesthetic is there merely to facilitate a shared experience with other people of how you've played with your lego set.

I'm going to miss my friend. I'm putting my life into boxes. And now I get it, that once your life is in boxes, it's too late for anyone to change your mind, too late for your mind to even matter. You can't not go.

Going through those cards, reminiscing of which ones were my favorites, my sister's favorites, remembering the hours we spent cloning flowers - it made me realize how Animal Crossing gets its hooks in you. How the connection to the real world's time gets you invested, but there's no closure. You can always come back. Most of your villagers will still be there and know who you are. Your furniture will be just as you left it. So not playing means there's always the possibility of coming back, and things being a little different, but capable of being the same. But here, with these cards, I had a tangible thing to hold in my hands, in the real world. Unlocked memories. Recreating the paths I walked in that town for months. Something I could make peace with. Something I could give away. Something to pass off at the end of a season.

As I spoke with my friend, I let myself talk honestly about what these little dudes had meant to me for the first time aloud. Because I could trust him to understand what I had been going through. What it meant for me to be that invested. What I was really telling him with these silly nonsense stories. Because he had played New Horizons the same way. And he knew that when you can honestly describe how something made you feel, in a way that previously would have been so vulnerable, you've truly moved on. And I needed to know that I wasn't still the person who lost a year of his life and redirected it into Animal Crossing.

I had to take them back. He can keep the binder and Diva and the dozens of strangers who mean nothing to me. I needed to keep the cards of the villagers who were with me at the end. At the end of playing pretend. Of when I ran out of ways to play. I'm still missing Static and Zucker and Pierce.

Maybe there isn’t shame in using Animal Crossing for what it was. A bridge, a crutch, a reminder of what kindness and friendship looked like in a time where those were in short supply. Don’t we sometimes use real people the same way? Aren’t some real friendships just as shallow, but mean just as much? Few friendships last a lifetime, the same as few games are played forever.

I don't want to move. But I can't not move. I have to forgive myself for the people I used to be. I have to find grace in seeing what I learned from the experiences I would never wish on myself again. Including my ability to love Animal Crossing.

(This is a rewrite of my first ever review on Backloggd! For posterity’s sake I’ll leave up that review here, but I don’t love it and I’m writing this review as an improvement on what I wanted to say back then.)

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Before I played In Stars and Time in November of 2023, I played the proof-of-concept version, START AGAIN: a prologue a whole year and a half earlier, in April of 2022. I usually don’t play demos, especially not paid demos, but I’d been following this project based on the art style and I felt like it was something special. I liked the prologue well enough. It was charming and I was drawn to the characters. The prologue starts in medias res as the party prepare to defeat the “final boss”, the King, at the end of their JRPG journey. The catch is that the protagonist, Siffrin, is stuck in a time loop and nobody else in the party is aware. Despite this, Siffrin resolves to carry this burden alone, and to use this ability to defeat the King without worrying his allies.

My one big issue with this demo was that, although I liked him as a character, Siffrin’s decision to bottle up his feelings and keep the time loop a secret made no sense to me. It seemed contrived that he wouldn’t, even once, experiment with the time loop and tell his allies about what was going on. If it caused any issues, it wouldn’t matter – he could just loop back and START AGAIN. After the demo, I was a little disappointed but still hopeful the full release could turn my opinion around.



As the full release approached, I grew really excited. I’d been following the dev’s monthly dev logs on Steam up to release, and I bought the full game in the first week after it came out, a rare event for me. I finished it in 6 days, binging it between study sessions for my upcoming exams. I was hooked, and by the end of the game, In Stars and Time had fully recontextualized the demo.

Siffrin didn’t tell his party about the time loop because he loves them. He didn’t tell them because he refuses to be vulnerable.

When I played the demo I saw these characters from my omniscient point of view as the player, as little pawns to command in whatever way would progress the plot. Siffrin’s refusal to open up felt like an arbitrary obstacle put in place by the creator as if to say “but then we wouldn’t have a plot, would we?” But Siffrin isn’t the player, and he isn’t aware he exists in a video game. To him, the rest of the party aren’t pawns; they’re his allies. His friends. His family.

What’s more, Siffrin is incredibly repressed. He’s reserved, happy to nod along in the background because he believes that placing himself as the centre of attention will lead everyone to hate him as much as he hates himself. He sees himself as inherently less valuable than others, and takes the time loop to be his chance to martyr himself in service of his family.

I’m reminded of Jacob Geller’s video Time Loop Nihlism, wherein he talks about Deathloop and the way replaying a game desensitizes us. The more we play, the more we’re able to abstract NPCs from living, breathing people into gameplay systems. Our immersion fades with each repeat as cause and effect become predictable. This was the mindset I had playing the demo.

In Stars and Time actively subverts this idea. Siffrin refuses to allow nihilism to overtake him. Sure, if anything happened to a family member, he could reset the timeline and fix it. But in that moment, in that present moment, his family would suffer, and that suffering would be real. For the same reason we wouldn’t kill a person even though they’ll die sometime in the future anyways, Siffrin won’t let his family come to harm even though he can reset the harm they suffer. The time loop is his burden and his alone, and he will do everything in his power to allow his family to be happy for as long as he can.

In Stars and Time is repetitive. You will repeat the same dungeon over and over for the game’s entire runtime. You will fight the same enemies over and over. The same bosses. Siffrin’s family will repeat the same dialogue again and again. You will find the same items scattered throughout the dungeon. You will walk between the same rooms in the same layout looking for the same keys to progress. There are plenty of quality-of-life features to reduce frustration; you can loop to specific areas in the dungeon after dying, you can skip seen dialogue, and Siffrin retains levels between every loop while his family retain their levels at checkpoints within the dungeon. But, no matter what, you will repeat the same events over and over. You will be sent back and forth, and at several points you will progress to a certain point in the dungeon only to realize you had to do something in a now blocked-off area, forcing another reset. The ludonarrative is excellent and encourages the player to experience Siffrin’s frustrations alongside him.

This is why Siffrin’s character arc is so compelling. The whole game, he does his best to protect, long past the point the player has. Every so often he’ll make a major breakthrough, and his enthusiasm is extreme. This is it! He’s figured it out! That enthusiasm soon fades as his plans inevitably lead to more and more dead ends. Even Siffrin has his breaking point, and his growing disillusionment with the repetition, the monotony, makes him a fascinating tragic protagonist. I won’t say much because of spoilers, but the toll the time loop takes on his mental health, compounded with his poor self-esteem and inability to show vulnerability, make Siffrin an amazing and relatable protagonist.

I could praise everything about this game if I wanted to, but I chose to focus on Siffrin because his characterization is central to what makes In Stars and Time so engaging. I love its characters, its world-building, its music, its everything. Please, if what I’ve written above is at all interesting and you can stomach the repetition, you owe it to yourself to play In Stars and Time.

for all its messy sci-fi tangles and caustic irony and sprawling mythologizing this felt raw and tender in a way that kind of really hurt. doubles down on the eminently alien as a ruse to make its naked human ugliness more potent when the time comes, presenting a scenario where the essence of all stress, tension, and threat is mundanely, terribly, crushingly adolescent at heart

a wealth of increased design hospitality baits a hostility that draws from acrid power dynamics, self-destructive altruism, loss of autonomy, strained health, and the uniquely miserable feeling of being a fucked up teenager. that its concluding act leads with its most insincere, grating posturing only to directly pivot into end times earnestness makes for one of the most convincing tonal portrayals of angst and isolation I can think of

instant teencore classic (deeply affectionate)

So far in this series, we have had a trilogy of frustrating, yet wonderful games on the NES (all the problems with Simon’s Quest aside), and two handheld titles that weren’t quite perfect, with Castlevania: The Adventure in particular being extremely flawed, but for what they were, they were pretty effective as the first handheld titles for the series. Oh yeah, and there was also that one arcade title as well, but shhhhh, we don’t talk about that game in this household. Now, after this slew of titles, it was about time that this series was brought to the next generation of systems, with Masahiro Ueno being up to the task, not only deciding to make the game less frustrating in comparison to previous games, but also making a game that would be a remake of sorts of the original Castlevania. So, after two years of development, Super Castlevania IV was released to the public, and has since been praised and enjoyed for many decades to come.

This is considered to be one of, if not THE best, game in the entire Castlevania series, and when you play it, you can definitely see why. I myself wouldn’t consider it the best game in the series, as there would be several games made later down the road that I would say I enjoyed a lot more then this game, but don’t think that I am saying this game is bad, because that couldn’t be further from the truth. In my opinion, this is what I would consider the PERFECT rendition of the original Castlevania, and it is executed flawlessly in practically everything that it sets out to do. Yeah, it is kind of a step back when compared to Castlevania III and the features that game introduced (which is understandable, but still), and some of the bosses can be a huge pain in the ass, but none of those things ruined my experience with what is the perfect way the Castlevania series could have entered the 16-bit era.

The story is… basically the exact same as the original Castlevania, which is completely fine, as you really don’t need a big story to get you into the action, the graphics are absolutely fantastic, not only having the perfect look for these gothic environments, but also having fantastic atmosphere, which can even be seen as early on as the intro cutscene and the title screen, the music is GODLY, with plenty of original tracks along with remixes of classic themes, and there are some real head-bangers to be heard from this, the control is… I’m not ready to gush about them just yet, we will get to them eventually, and the gameplay is a pretty good evolution of the classic formula, while keeping things mostly familiar for those who are coming from the previous games in the series.

The game is your typical 2D Castlevania title, where you travel through many different side-scrolling levels, whipping many different gothic monsters along the way, gathering hearts, sub-weapons, and items to help you deal with the many baddies seen throughout, and taking on many larger-then life bosses, with the bosses themselves having great variety, either being classic monsters we have seen before, or new types of monsters with their own gimmick. Yeah, the game sticks closely to the original formula from the original Castlevania, which is kind of a letdown, again, considering what Castlevania III brought to the table, but what makes up for this is how the game manages to take this formula and perfect it.

Playing through the game overall does feel a lot less frustrating then that of the original game, with there not being too many instances of cheap damage or deaths that you will encounter. Now don’t get me wrong, this game is still pretty damn hard (after all, it wouldn’t be a Castlevania game if it was easy), but a lot of the hardships you will encounter can be taken care of pretty easily, and you will feel responsible for the damage you take and deaths you suffer… well, most of the time anyway. There will be several bosses, especially towards the end, where you will have quite a difficult time with them, as they are relentless, but thankfully, with the help of the unlimited continues, they shouldn’t take too long for you to take down once you learn their patterns.

One of the defining features of this game, and one of the reasons that I absolutely adore it, is with the control. This game has the BEST control scheme out of any of the classic Castlevania games, and I wish the future games would’ve stuck to, but hey, at least we have it here. For all of the previous game, while the control was enough to get a hang of, it was still pretty limited, with a very stiff movement and being unable to change your jump in midair. Thankfully now, despite still have a somewhat stiff movement, you can change your direction in midair while jumping, as well as do things like jump onto stairs to help you get through places faster. It may not sound like much, but it does help out a lot, making the pacing much faster, and giving you an edge up over the enemies. And speaking of getting an edge up over the enemies, this also goes into your whip, which is the best that it has been and will ever be in any of these games. Not only does it still pack a punch and have a great length, especially with the powerups, but you can also whip it in 8 different directions, as well as being able to… flail it around like an idiot, for some reason. I don’t need to explain to you how helpful this maneuverability and attack range is, allowing me to get plenty of hits and kills in on enemies that, if the attacking was the same as the original game, I would never be able to do easily without some damage.

Overall, despite some slight hiccups to be found here and there, this is definitely the best entry in the Castlevania series so far, and one of the best in the entire series. If you were a fan of the original trilogy of games, or you want to experience the series but don’t know where to start, then I would highly recommend it, as I guarantee that you will have at least some fun with it. I can’t even think of an ending joke this time around, the game is just too good. Go play it. NOW.

Game #254

Second Castlevania game I tried after SotN, and a damn good one as well. Controls very, very nicely, and from the looks of the previous games this seems to have toned down the frustration levels significantly, though of course I'll have to see myself. Atmosphere, music and detail are all incredible too, making it yet another one of those early SNES titles to to a great job showing off what the console could do. Both of these games give me a wonderful impression of both the earlier and later Castlevania series, and I'll definitely be sure to check out more.