I've heard a lot of people have faults with this game. Some of the characters are poorly written, the story doesn't make much sense, the gameplay can get repetitive, the fanbase, so on and so forth. But, all these people have forgotten a very, very important fact:

I am a lonely, gay furry.

Front-to-back, this game is literally flawless to me. To the point where it's not worth listing off all the reasons why. Music, characters, gameplay, art style, messages, story, everything. All perfect. My favorite game of all time, and one that I can confidently say changed my life.

I will grit my teeth and do everything I can to not draw comparisons to New Vegas, a game that is better than this on literally every front, and instead look at it as its own experience and as a sequel to Fallout 1 and 2.

Nothing you do in this game matters. Nothing. There's no choice that you make that ever has an impact on the story, you just walk a straight line to the end while the writers beat you over the head with their ideas and themes that they want to develop but never spend any time doing so. Bethesda is so terrified that you might not enjoy their story and world, so they trip over their own feet at every turn to make you connected, despite it being completely counterintuitive. A 20-minute long intro that takes you through the first 19 years of your life! Wow, don't you feel connected with your character and the places you see? Don't you love your good ol' dad? Oh no, the Vault is melting down (or something)! Aren't you sad about this? After all, this is where you grew up! I won't go into spoiler territory, even though the "twists" in the story really do not matter, but the examples I gave are just the tip of the iceberg of how much Bethesda grabs you by the back of the head and bashes your face into its story.

So, a lot of people who defend this game would respond to all of my complaints about the main story with a reasonable rebuttal: sure, it's not a good story, but the side quests and world design are pretty great. Alright, that's understandable, and I kept that in mind while I played, but I find that this isn't true at all. Side quests are more than the surface objectives, it's what they mean, to you and to the world around you. Fallout 2 had a quest that was nothing more than going across the street and buying a plow for a Vault City slave, and that had more impact on me than anything this game had to offer. Now, that isn't me being snarky and cynical for no reason, I'm offering it up to make a point; as much as FO3 tries, and it tries very hard, there is never a real connection with the player and the world around them because of how shoddily it's put together. Things exist and happen for no reason, characters are all completely flat, motives make no sense (when they're not blatantly aping the previous 2 entries), nothing in the game feels impactful to you at all. What's the point in me doing side quests if my reward is learning more about this poorly written world from poorly written characters with poorly directed voice actors? There's no sense of satisfaction, because my actions don't mean anything. My dialogue options are nothing more than "kind response", "neutral response", and "mean response". It's almost funny how the other games in the series have been critiqued for having Karma systems that mean practically nothing, when this game goes out of its way to flaunt its Karma system that has even less impact and feels even more phoned-in than the other games. I also want to mention, with regards to the side quests, that you have to find a great deal of them organically, via digging through the world for settlements. On the surface, this isn't a bad idea, but the problem is how segmented the world design is, on both micro and macro scales. Areas are unnecessarily broken up and labyrinthian just to make you have to find byzantine routes around, and said areas are thrown about randomly throughout the wasteland, with very rare instructions pointing you in any real direction. Not only that, but everything blends in visually to the point that you might glaze right over a possible area and side quests just because it didn't grab your eye. I never felt any drive to explore the wasteland because, outside of the quests having no meaning to me, it just never made me feel like the trek to find things would be worth it.

This shouldn't come as a shock, but all nuance and subtext in this is practically non-existent. Again, discounting New Vegas, compared solely to 1 and 2, it is genuinely impressive how much this game fumbles any and all meaning in its text. The Bible verse that is bludgeoned into your head relentlessly throughout the game is the perfect example of this; taking symbolism from the Bible, an incredibly symbolic and metaphor-ridden text, and playing it completely straight. The verse mentions water, and you're bringing water to the wastelands! Do you get it yet? Do you understand that whenever we bring up the water, we want you to think about how clever we are for choosing that Bible verse? Everything else in the game is the exact same way, absolutely zero subtlety and everything that could have even the slightest nuance being played completely straight and blunt. Wow, the guy who traps people in a simulation of the 50s is obsessed with the past and doesn't want things to change! It's so tiring. It is so, so tiring.

With as much as I rip this game to shreds, and believe me, it deserves every ounce, I have to reluctantly give it one compliment. Bethesda did a pretty good job at adapting the Fallout visual and gameplay style to a 3D world, with little details thrown in like Vault layouts, certain weapon and world models faithfully recreated, even the dialogue you tell your companions being similar to the games previous. But, I don't know how genuine of a compliment "you managed to follow the exact footsteps your predecessors laid out" is.

To wrap things up, I want to make my points as clear and concise as they can get, because I know I can get wordy. Bethesda is so terrified at the player not interacting with the story and world "correctly", that they strip away all impact that the player's choices have. This leads to interactions being flat, emotional moments feeling forced, and a general feeling of unimportance. To borrow a line from my friend who I played this game with, you are not the main character of the story; your dad and Doctor Li are, you are on the sidelines spectating the entire time. Your choices have already been made for you, you only get to decide what words will be used. This is the core issue with this game, and what leads to the world being inherently uninteresting and as a result, everything that happens to, and because of, the player feeling like they lack any influence.

"It's like... Bethesda is a bakery, and the visual designers do the frosting, while the writers make the cake. And the writers can't bake a cake to save their fucking lives, so the only thing the visual designers can do is make it look really nice on the outside and hope you don't notice how bad the inside is. It's not their fault that the end result is unenjoyable, they did the best they can." - aforementioned friend

Every bad thing you've heard about this VN is probably true. They play to tropes way too much with little payoff; what is an incredibly interesting character at times is too often used as the butt of a tsundere joke, another character makes perverted, unfunny comments, and the main character is too high on his own fumes for most of the game that he comes off as a pretentious jackass even when they're trying to not paint him as such. The dialogue is overly verbose, which could be a side effect of poor translation for all I know, but it makes for some exhausting conversations at times, and it takes an absurdly long time to get started, with the first two or three chapters being potentially grating to someone not willing to put up with the overly trope-y characters. And, while I wouldn't call it transphobic, the way it handles a certain character's gender identity is questionable at best. Now, all that aside, what's good about this game?

Literally everything else.

There's some of the most lovable and fun chemistry between all of the characters here, whether it be banter at thinking each other to be overdramatic or having to help someone understand quantum mechanics with strings of yarn. They all play an important role to the story, everyone is so essential in their own unique way, even ones you never expect. There's a certain pink-haired girl who I absolutely loathed in the beginning only to find myself having incredibly strong feelings towards her situation, and even relating myself to her story. No one feels like they're there just to move the plot along, they all feel like integral parts to the overarching narrative and it's just fantastic. However, the true gem of this game, without a doubt, is its examination of time travel. It does such an amazing job at introducing scientific theories and how things function in-universe at the perfect intervals in the story so that it makes sense when things start getting more and more complicated; by the end of the game, half of the dialogue is just science stuff, yet I was nodding along, not once thinking it didn't make sense. All the rules are crystal clear, there never feels like any huge contradictions or shoddy logic; even if something doesn't immediately make sense to you, the game will help you understand it and presents it to you in a way that will wrap your head around it. Beyond just the science, it's also an incredibly intriguing look at fatalism, changing the past, the butterfly effect, playing god, the dangers of losing our humanity, and so much else that makes the time traveling much, much more than just a plot device.

I was going to give this a 4/5 due to my aforementioned issues with pacing and tropes, but the final chapter really elevated my feelings for the game and left with a beautiful message that rendered some of my previous concerns completely obsolete. It's some of the most compelling sci-fi storytelling you'll get your hands on, and I really recommend it to anyone interested in a humanistic approach to the wonders of science.

El Psy Kongroo.

What made 7 great with some added stuff from Wii that makes this feel like the definitive Mario Kart, which is obvious, but still. There's a reason it's been the standard for 10 years now, there's not much else you can do that this game hasn't done. Great roster of maps both base game and DLC, remakes are consistently good to great (Coconut Mall is a rare exception), character lineup is good but definitely some weird choices (zero people wanted 5 Babies and also WHERE IS CAPTAIN FALCON), but the obvious winner here is the gameplay. Every bit as smooth as you'd expect from a 7 follow-up, plus anti-grav allowing for much more dynamic map layouts and the return of ramps just make this so much fun to play. I went through the entire roster of non-remakes with my friend and it was some of the most fun we've had in a while. A+ game, even if there are a couple aspects from the older games I prefer. Only slightly.

Is it dated? Yes.
Is it goofy? Most definitely.
Are the other RE games better atmospherically? Probably.
Do I care? Absolutely fuckin' not.

This is a blast from beginning to end, with all the stupid charm of the original games amped up to 11; cheesy one-liner after cheesy one-liner, zombies with machine guns, a Napoleon cult leader, it's all just so damn good. The escort missions don't suck, the gameplay is basic but so rewarding, the pacing is surprisingly well-done for a game like this... just talking about it all makes me want to drop what I'm typing and replay it.

My main fault with the game is that the feedback in the boss fights is really poor, and you're kinda left aimlessly shooting, but... man, I can't knock points off for that because it's still just so fun. Plus, it'll only take you at most 2 or 3 tries before you realize what to do, so it's not that bad.

With all of the different styles it goes for (and pulls off), this thing just oozes with shlocky, Evil Dead-esque charm from start to finish, and for that, I can't not love it.

Story of my life.

This game should not exist.

It does not feel like there was ever a time before Resident Evil 4, yet it certainly feels like we are all living in its aftermath. To say that this game is "confident" with its design might be the biggest understatement I've ever written. It doesn't feel confident, it feels like concrete rules of game design being rebuilt right in front of you. It takes as many cues from the series' roots with its core gameplay philosophies as it does rail shooters a la House of the Dead with its perpetual forward motion and linear map design; "every room feeling like something new." I've seen this game described as a new age of Resident Evil, a reinvention of the series, ushering in the "action era" of the series, but I think that's selling it short.

Auteur theory is something that I am personally at ends with, as I do think there are creative visionaries who leave a thumbprint on all of their works, but it still feels like I'm drastically reducing the tens, hundreds of people involved in game development to merely support for the big name. That being said, one must be impressed by Shinji Mikami. I can not comprehend practically inventing the survival horror genre with the original Resident Evil, help heighten action games to a new level with Devil May Cry, returning to a classic to iron out the few flaws and give it a good spit shine with REmake, and finally flip the gaming world on its head with Resident Evil 4. With that out of the way, there are some design choices from both REs 1 and 4 that I'd like to highlight: your inventory, and decision making.

When I think of RE1, I'm instantly reminded of the dread it induces with its strangling inventory and how key it is to trim all fat possible and keep only the bare necessities, lest you end up with an essential item left behind due to no free space. In every sense, RE4 manages to keep its iconic inventory management aspect, but only after completely overhauling it into something that has never, and probably will never be outdone. At an entry level, it's simple: rearrange items to fit the space; a Tetris-esque minigame in your downtime. But the more you play, the more your inventory feels like more than just a bag of options, it's a flash reminder of your entire arsenal. As much as I love the 2023 remake's decision to map certain weapons to the D-pad (a very comfortable feature), I find that it takes away from a certain improvisational aspect the game's combat has. You go into a room, you're surrounded by enemies, and after you shoot a few rounds to get the baddies swarming you off, you open your inventory; clarity. You think about how many enemies are in the room, how many shots you've put into them, when your last Merchant visit was, your ammo for all weapons, your grenade count, upcoming sections (if you're a returning player), and so much more, with one button press. And the only reason you have that moment of lucidity is because the game reminds you of your entire catalog, decorated in whatever order you prefer the most. Not only does it allow you to have satisfying click moments of everything fitting into place, but it lets you test your own speed, swapping between grenades, pistols, shotguns within seconds to sweep away enemies. Then, once that room is cleared, you collect all the ammo you've got and run another stocktake, mentally preparing yourself for the next encounter, just one small gear in what makes this game play like clockwork.

Adding onto that, I'd like to cross-reference this excellent review by SimonDedalus, wherein the game asks of you "how do you adapt to it putting you in a cage with Wolverine." It may sound silly on the surface, but the tensest encounters (a great example is the cabin in 2-2) in this game are, in my opinion, its shining moments. Sure, it's fun to pop the heads of enemies from a mile away with your rifle, but being trapped in a room not much bigger than you are and having enemies strapped with maces, cattle prods, crossbows, claw hands, or rocket launchers with nothing but the weapons you have and an ever-evolving game plan in your mind is what separates this game from the Resident Evil entries that would follow it. There's no expression of skill in mindlessly mowing down zombies, which is why this game never offers you that. The infected are tough, and you're doing yourself a disservice by just plugging away at them. Switching your styles and adapting to what the game throws at you will not only keep you well-stocked with ammo, as the "AI director" likes to throw a variety of ammo types at you to balance using guns you like while also keeping your gameplay fresh, but also reward you with a richer, deeper understanding of the game's combat and possibility for what could only be described as "combos" in the RE world.

There's more to talk about, of course, but I really think those two factors hone in what makes this game an immortal entrant into the pantheon of video games. Sure, I could talk about its effortless stylistic switch-ups, or its wonderfully cheesy B-movie charm, or its superbly satisfying and iconic sound design, but those are all just the church built on the proverbial "rock" of masterclass game design.

This is the best game ever made, in fact, I'd like to raise it up a peg: I consider RE4 to be an artistic achievement in humanity's name, and we are lucky to coexist alongside it in time. If you are a game designer, this game should light your head aflame with creativity, and if it doesn't, keep playing until it does. Even if you're not a game designer, the sheer strength and confidence in every aspect this game has should be enough to instill anyone with the faith in themselves they need to create something special of their own. If Shinji Mikami can do it, if Leon S. Kennedy can do it, if Capcom can do it, if Resident Evil can do it, so can you.

I mean really, have we succeeded in the field of psychological themes in video games past this point? Every single detail is so planned out despite it all feeling incredibly casual, and it all acts as a reflection of every one of the main character's subconscious. And, like, yeah, everyone has said this, but seriously, it's every detail. Corpses wearing certain clothing, certain camera angles on characters, what seem like innocuous props for a scene having perfect thematic purpose for being there, the interactions between James and the others, it all flows perfectly from one scene to the next as a downward spiral into one's own psyche. Beyond that, this game deserves all the praise in the world for handling topics like familial abuse, sexuality, bullying, suicide, and morality with more finesse than a vast majority of contemporary games claiming to do so. James, Angela, and Eddie don't feel like mouthpieces to show how "caring" the developers are, they feel like real, tangible people who are going through their own struggles the same as you. Perfect game, perfect story, perfect characters, perfect atmosphere, perfect music, passable combat, and maybe my vote for best video game ever made. It really doesn't get much better than this, man.

It's time for me to face the music.

I decided to replay this game for the first time in almost a decade, successfully aiming to get a true 101% completion, colored bananas and all. This game really means a lot to me; it's the first game I remember really getting into, I have a ton of vivid childhood memories of going through it at various ages and learning more and more about it, it's partially responsible for making me a furry, and I've always been ready to come up to bat to defend it from the naysayers. Sure, it's dated, but it's still good, right? ... right?

It's really hard to tackle the many issues this game has, so to get it out of the way, I'll talk about the good. As to be expected from Rare, it's incredibly charming. All the characters are so vivid and full of personality, from idle animations to falling screams to their weapon choices, everything really sticks with you and makes you smile throughout the entire game. The art style is very fun, managing to create such colorful and varied scenery with the N64's limited ability. Although, hands down, the best aspect of this game might be its sound design. Grant Kirkhope is one of the true gaming composing legends, and he once again proves it in this game. All the sound effects are so memorable and playful, and the music consistently goes crazy hard, especially the boss themes. The gameplay, while repetitive, does have some really fun moments; I love all the minecart sequences, some of the puzzles are really clever, and in general the levels are surprisingly atmospheric and rich for such a silly game. However, cracks are going to show if you stay in these levels for long periods.

There are three major complaints I see towards this game: #1 is that there's too many collectibles, #2 is that it's too segmented, and #3 is that it relies on mini-games too much. I would like to actually defend the first point, I think the amount of collectibles works perfectly from a level-to-level basis and really never feels like it's overbearing, unless including all colored bananas. 5 Golden Bananas for each Kong (which is really 4 + finding an enemy), 5 Banana Medals, 2 Banana Fairies, and a Battle Crown. Sure, it sounds like a lot when you write it down like that, but it flows fine in-game and doesn't leave too many sloggish moments. However, complaint #2 is not something I can defend at all. The game is too segmented. Full stop.

Having a game be linear and segmented is not necessarily a bad thing, e.g. Ocarina of Time, but the problem in DK64 arises from the unbelievable level of backtracking that you have to do if you plan on collecting everything. There are numerous levels where teleport pads are used just to bring one Kong to a room they otherwise could not have gotten to just to shoot a balloon and gain 10 bananas. It doesn't feel fun or satisfying, it just leads to a slow trek back to a Tag Barrel to swap for the one Kong you need, teleporting to the room, shooting, and walking all the way back to continue with the level. There are also a lot of occasions of one room having to be entered and exited with multiple different Kongs, which while seeming clever at first, just leads to a very repetitive and stale experience where you go in and out and in and out and in and out of the same room with very little difference. You're not seeing 5 different rooms, you're seeing 1 room 5 times, and it gets grating. Luckily, there is a romhack that mitigates some of these issues, allowing you to swap Kongs at almost any moment, which significantly cuts down the backtracking. You would think that would be a major solution, and I will definitely admit that it helps a lot, but it still doesn't solve everything, specifically...

Complaint #3, too many mini-games. Yes, yes, yes, and yes. I don't remember the exact number, but I believe the total amount of Golden Bananas obtained solely through Bonus Barrels is over 25, if not over 30. That's not a small amount, especially when you consider that some mini-games are only used once, which means the rest are repeated over and over. Some are fine (Kremling Kosh), some are tedious (Stealthy Snoop), and some make you want to crush your controller in your hands (Minecart Mayhem). Overall, it's a lot more negative than positive, and you just keep seeing them, all the way to the literal end of the game, you will see mini-games. But the thing that really bothers me, the thing that really pushed me over the edge and made me realize a huge flaw in the design, is how the mini-games are used. Occasionally, it's something as simple as hitting a switch and then going into a Bonus Barrel; it's basic, sure, but that's all it needs to be. Other times, a Bonus Barrel is used as a supplement for a regular Golden Banana for solving a puzzle. Really think about this: they're giving you the opportunity to gain a Golden Banana, rather than just giving you the Banana. It sucks away so much of the enjoyment of figuring something out, having your "a-ha!", and feeling the satisfaction of hearing the success sound effect, just to see a Bonus Barrel pop up. If I wasn't going for 100%, I would've absolutely skipped most of them.

That's actually something I felt during a lot of this playthrough, and I feel an accurate summation of the game's flawed design. There is some great stuff in here, and the layouts of the levels themselves is pretty consistently good, but so much of it is bogged down by how tedious and grindy 100%'ing it is. Normally that wouldn't be an issue, but it's a collect-a-thon game, a genre that actively encourages you to go out of your way and search every nook and cranny to get every possible thing you can. Unfortunately, doing that here leads to an actively worse experience than if you were to just play the game "normally" and be willing to give up when a Banana just gets too frustrating to unlock, if you're okay with not having every number be maxed out, every slot filled. That's the biggest takeaway I can give for this game: it's a collect-a-thon where the best possible way to play is to not collect everything.

Do I still like this game? Yes, I do. It still means a lot to me and I really can't even say it's terrible, but it is horribly flawed and its dated design will most likely only continue to age worse and worse as time goes on. Who knows, maybe there will be a collect-a-thon revival in a few years and people will come back to love this. Would be cool. For now, though, it remains as a massive guilty pleasure for my inner kid, while the adult on the outside is suffering headaches from doubling back for the 5th time looking for the last green banana bunch.

Coming back to this game and getting it feel so rewarding. I tried a few months ago and put it down around 4-1 due to it feeling too unforgiving and frustrating, with not enough moments of satisfaction afterwards, but even then I knew there was something special about this game. Now, I'll admit that it is a near impossibility to not relate this game to the members of the lineage that it spawned, especially with this being the last one I played in said series, but it really is mind-blowing just how much right they got from the start.

I've made it no secret that Dark Souls 1 is by far my favorite entry in the Soulsborne collective, and I made the foolish-in-hindsight error of praising it for concepts like bloodstains, messages, summoning, etc. while never acknowledging that this game did it first. I knew it did, but I wanted to believe that "oh, this is some archaic version of the TRUE VISION that is DS1"; I could not be more incorrect. While it is true that the later games in the series did polish up a lot of various aspects, the core gameplay and soul (no pun intended) of the series was exquisitely laid out here. Infinite retries, big boss battles, XP currency, the multiplayer aspects, all of that started from this. I know I'm repeating myself a lot, but it is genuinely unbelievable that so many unique and now iconic mechanics in video games were done perfect in the first attempt. But enough waxing poetic about its history, how does it hold up on its own?

Demon's Souls takes an incredibly interesting and subversive look at the concepts of "levels", with everything feeling simultaneously extremely segmented yet also open and fluid. The five worlds you're given are all wildly different from each other, some experimenting in verticality, some experimenting with status effects and different elemental damage, each one having not a gimmick but rather a theme that makes them all super memorable and unique. As an aside, it's also really cool to see the flickering wisps of level design ideas that would go on to be recreated in later games. The individual segments within the worlds also switch things up between each one, with the layout of said levels being absolutely superb. The leanest cut of meat possible; every walkway, every set of stairs, every top and bottom of every single room is crafted with the express intent of "the player will go here for a reason", there is positively zero wasted space. The use of shortcuts, while regrettably a little sparse, also makes thorough searching and emptying of every level that much more rewarding, for you may be able to save yourself some extreme repetition should you fail at the boss. Speaking of bosses...

It seems as though the biggest turn-off for this game for a great many amount of people, specifically Souls fans, are the bosses being "underwhelming". Well, yes, but it feels a bit unfair to say that considering this was the first attempt at doing boss fights in this style, especially before the shift away from having the runback to the boss be part of the challenge. Now, I'll admit that I do prefer the quality bosses we got later on after the reduction of said runbacks, but that doesn't mean these are "bad", they just strike a different tone. It's a comparison many people have made, but they feel more like the puzzle bosses of Zelda games, except here they serve a slightly different purpose. Here, they're checkpoints, the things preventing you from seeing the rest of the world you're in, and that factor alone gives you the motivation to beat them. I wanted to see the rest of the Tower of Latria, which made me all the more determined to beat Fool's Idol, despite the demoralizing taste of failure and remembering the required runback. But, seeing what awaited me made it totally worth it, which retroactively adds to the challenge and satisfaction of beating these bosses.

I've held off on talking about this, since it's so subjective, but good lord is this game beautiful. Sure, maybe not in the "traditional" sense (ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵗᵘᶜᵏ ᵗᵒᵒ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ᵗᵒ), but it has a wistful, half-forgotten feeling to the art style, like a canvas that's been hung up in a gallery for a long, long time. It's faded and worn, but in a way, that adds to its melancholy. The architecture feels like a perfect blend of the familiar medieval and the dream-like uncanny, often stepping between the two at a moment's notice, which adds so much to the thick, foggy atmosphere that completely blankets this game. That atmosphere alone is what really sets this game apart from the rest, not just the (rather overstated) Soul Tendency system or the Archstones; I've made the "playing a painting" comparison to Dark Souls 1 many times, but I feel like this game might encapsulate that feeling better. Seeing 3-2 made me feel like I was seeing something that's never been done before or since in video games.

Not much else I can say. The main thing holding this back for me is just the clunk being a bit too much for me to want to come back to as often as I do the other games, and builds being much more strict, but I think that aspect adds to the weight of your adventure and purpose in the game's world. Though, I can not stress enough, even if I think other games provide this gameplay style in a more refined and replayable way, this game has a feeling to it that none of the others come close to; a feeling strong enough that it outweighs nearly all the negative feelings I have towards certain parts. A very special game made by a team of very special people.

It's mind-blowingly racist to the point of 1920s-style caricature.

But it's RE4 with co-op.

The pacing is all over the place, leading to sections that feel overly dramatic for no reason and a short length that you really notice.

But it's RE4 with co-op.

The plot has too many infodumps that, while interesting to the worldbuilding, lead to even more pacing issues to have you stop in your tracks and read a file on a computer somewhere.

But it's RE4 with co-op.

Sheva is a terribly underutilized character with a lot of squandered potential, and in her finished state, really only heightens the accusations of stereotyping.

But it's RE4 with co-op.

The inventory system is a massive stepdown from the previous iterations in every way, feeling overly strict a la the classic games without having the tension of said strictness, nor the satisfaction of creating an arsenal of weapons by rearranging your inventory spaces.

But it's RE4 with co-op.

The bosses range from boring to actively infuriating with their lengths, most being conceptually great but suffering from being overly long and tedious, with some being so mechanically strict that you'll find yourself getting hit through no real fault of your own.

But it's RE4 with co-op.

Also, there's Wesker.

TL;DR if you don't want to read my incredibly pretentious, artsy nerd review: If you think you'll like it, you will. Play it regardless.

Reviewing, describing, and even just talking about a piece of media to someone can be difficult sometimes, since tastes are always different and what could be a positive for one person is a negative for another. It's impossible to view something in a wholly objective light, because even that can be skewed by personal views. Now, of course, this is known to anyone who's tried their hand at speaking to something's strengths or weaknesses, especially on a public platform like this. So why bring it up? Simply put, because this game's traits are so subjective to the core that it would be completely out of my hands to even attempt to try and speak from a non-biased point of view. That being said, this game is all about overcoming seemingly impossible odds, so let's try.

Pathologic is a challenge. Not just in the sense of the game's notorious difficulty, but in the way that it acts as a reflection of how you specifically would go about solving problems with no solutions and deciding on things that can not be decided on. The game sometimes even resists your choice, by giving you dialogue options with no clear "right" thing to say, as compared to other games that tend to give you the options of "good, bad, or neutral" with no deviation. Of course, it's all just a game, so why does it matter? Why does the inability to say what you want to say affect you at all? After all, it's not you, it's just a character. But, try as you might to suppress the feeling, you still feel that twinge of pain when you end up saying something that hurts a character in grief or suffering. Why?

Blanket statement, I know, but I truly don't know of another piece of media, of any type you choose, that could match the immersion this game provides. It's been described as Kafkaesque in many circles, and while some would say that term has been beaten into meaninglessness, I would say that there has never been a better piece to file under it. From the kickstart of being thrown into the deep end of a situation you barely understand, to the suffocatingly oppressive nature of the town around you, to the dream-like architecture and dialogue of certain characters, it wraps you in a tight, engrossing cloth, not letting up until you either quit or beat it. This immersion is what makes everything in the game so meaningful. The realistic disease makes you dread even going near sick areas or carriers without proper protection, your ever-present physical needs don't feel like something tacked on to further the "survival" aspect of the plague, but rather something more devastating to you than the plague itself. By pushing you to your physical, mental, and emotional limits, the game forces you to make choices that cut deep and make you look at yourself when it's done. You don't want your best friend to die, but if you die, then it's all for nothing, both as a character in the game and as a player.

Eventually, you'll have to kill off your desires to save everyone or to even fully protect yourself because you just don't have the choice, not because the game didn't provide you with it, but solely because it provided you with the choice. Everything you do has consequences, minor or major, sooner or later, and it makes for an experience in which even your own inventory management can be seen as a choice, depending on the circumstances. The game lets you act exactly how you want to act, yet somehow simultaneously refuses to budge from how it wants you to play, again reinforcing its confusing, mind-warping tone that never ceases until you quit resisting and play your part. But then that begs the question, how do you feel about playing your part?

The lore of the game, while not necessarily its focal point, is something I would feel ashamed of not at least bringing up. It is so meticulously carved out throughout the game that, despite me completing it, I still feel like I only know a fraction of what there is to learn. The Steppe's history, its traditions, its meanings, almost everything is not handed to you, but rather something you pick up through finding out for yourself. The logic of the town is revealed slowly as time moves on, in unnoticeable increments; rather than having a revelation, a moment of clarity, you steadily build up your knowledge of how the people around you function and think until eventually, you feel as though you're one of the town's own, living and breathing right next to them, furthering the game's grasp on your mind in the best possible way.

I feel as though I've exhausted all I can say without going into spoiler territory, which is not something I want to do, I'd much rather try to sell you on the game by praising its brilliance and pulling you in to try it than to spoil the experience of learning the world for yourself. I want to end on this note, though. If you play it and you don't finish it, that's alright. If you play it and you don't like it, that's alright. If you don't even want to play it to begin with because you hate every detail about it, that's alright. Some things are challenging to get enjoyment out of, and it's only human for you to not want to go through hardships, especially one as optional as a game. I don't view myself as better for finishing it, and I don't view you as worse for giving up or avoiding it. However, I do ask that you try. Even if you think it's too much, keep trying. It took me over a year to finally beat it, and I could not have been happier to see it through to the end. Everyone deserves to experience the reflection this game provides, and seeing it through to the very end is an incredibly rich, rewarding experience.

Some scattershot thoughts I wanted to tack on and found no place to do so naturally:
- The imperialist themes are incredibly well-done and were a huge driving factor in how i dealt with certain situations
- This might have the best sound design in any game; the soundtrack itself is fantastic but the constant incomprehensible noises from around the Steppe are so effective
- I deeply care about the worms
- I don't think the ending(s) was fantastic in a vacuum but in the grand scheme of the game, I think it works perfectly
- This game occupied my brain for the entire time I was playing it to the point where I was struggling to sleep, thinking about how I would survive the next day once I played it again
- I really, really hope the other two routes come soon, this is already a near-perfect game as it is, having the other two would earn it a spot in the hall of fame

"MGS2 is the smarter game, but MGS3 is the better game." - my art teacher

Can't think of a better way to put it. I don't think this is as thematically rich an experience as 2, but I believe it's a much more emotionally rich one. Truth and lie, friend and enemy, us and them, all lines are blurred throughout the entire game, which leads to one of the most impactful climaxes to a story I've seen. Outside of that, the game itself is a very fun experience, with many different ways to think outside the box to solve your problems; my personal story is using a shaky rope bridge to drop a body off the side by running past it.

There's a sad irony to the fact that a nearly 20-year-old game this linear allows you to experiment and find your own solutions to a degree that many modern games boasting the same don't even come close to.