It's not as complex as Dwarf Fortress, but still has incredible depth in gameplay that still surprises me after probably hundreds of hours. For example, after thinking for the longest time that the wallets on zombies were useless flavor items, I found out just recently that you can actually deposit their cash at ATMs and use a credit card to buy gasoline at gas stations. Playing cataclysm is having small discoveries like this every play session. Also the crafting system is so incredibly complex, except for advanced weapons and junk food you can probably craft every single item in the game yourself with enough dedication, starting with sticks and stones and ending at complex machining and chemistry. While sometimes complex tasks can get tedious, there always is a way to do things smarter and more efficiently. Once you figure out how the interactions with the game world are implemented, you can probably emulate most real world actions you could think of in any given scenario, like throwing your empty gun at an enemy's head or using a clothing rack as a makeshift melee weapon.

Sable is the teenage discovery of finding one’s identity through an open journey towards the yet unknown world. The conclusion of this ritual will be to choose a mask to forge your identity in.

Most of the masks (all of them?) are related to a profession, and are obtained talking by with people somehow related to, mostly exercising, such occupation. However, Sable fails to capture every single spirit of any vocation. It’s obvious that it would abstract an aspect of each job to make a simple model of it, but it forgot to try to capture the soul for anyone to get an honest investment on what the occupation really is about. A merchant is reduced to having enough money to earn the mask, a cartographer also relies on money without even needing to tell north from south, a machinist mask is not earned through understanding and trying a hand with machinery but through doing favors to lazy people (which is most of the population of Sable). The climber isn’t that much focused on climbing (since it’s mechanically too shallow to be of interest on its own) but on completing mediocre platforming sections. The concept of what even a guardian is would be hard to understand only with what is seen in Sable, the only “active” one I encountered trusted all the weight of justice to a complete stranger and even let the just arrived finger to point who should be imprisoned, without a proper defense or a clear case constructed, a very far image of my idea of a guardian. This shallow understanding of building an identity by putting on a mask of an occupation that you barely truly understand, but earned through enough credentials, could be understood as a critique. It isn't. Sable still trusts in its ritual.

I avoided mentioning this before, but why even define yourself as a vocation? One thing is that your job or your hobby is going to take a part of your life, be it by necessity or by decision, but at what moment the ritual to define your identity is to cover your face, your unique truth, with a clonic mask? Why take a journey on your own through the desert if the final say was going to be a pick from the predefined menu? Is this the most spiritual idea of identity in a world where old habits are supposed to be buried under the sand?

Sable thinks that understanding a place in a way that it can shape your identity is to be a tourist who must do a few errands for the people who don't want to move their ass. That discovery is solving a few early test puzzle levels from the most mediocre Zelda. It's not concerned about the people who live there, in how they think, in how they face troubles in any way that isn't crying to the first stranger that comes through the door. The desert represents what the game thinks is valuable of any of those places and their people, absolute nothingness.

I decided to not wear a mask and to not complete a ritual that cannot define me. Can a mask shaped identity even be found and be true? Can identity be found or is it an ever looking process? My final decision was to get out of there, out of the desert, out of Sable, to search for the identity through the hard way, through the only way, rejecting every mask.

I have no idea why a mod loader is listed here as a game. It feels kind of redundant to rate tModLoader on its own because that implies it comes with content out of the box. tModLoader isn't a game per-se, but rather a framework for 'actual' mods to attach to Terraria. And judging on that aspect, it does it perfectly.

I can remember for the longest time Terraria's lack of mod compatibility being a major counter-point for those who liked to compare Terraria with Minecraft. Now that the said lack of compatibility no longer exists, Terraria can now go from being an already great game of exploring and becoming an unholy powerful sun-of-a-gun conquering mighty bosses, to an almost perfect sandbox that has basically anything you darn well want (within reason).

Want to add just a tiny bit of content so you can get some proper use of your Moon Lord loot? There's a mod for that. Want to completely change how the game progression works so that its less frustrating and grindy? There's a mod for that. Want to experience (or re-experience) all the content that's exclusive to the PS3, Xbox 360 and 3DS ports? There's a mod for that. Want to utterly change the game front to back in such a way that it feels like you're playing Terraria all over again? There are tons of mods that do just that and more.

It's hard to put a proper review for tModLoader on its own because the kinds of content, and the quality of content you experience is entirely dependent on what you can find. The only major drawback I can find for tModLoader on its own is that it REQUIRES Steam to use. Even if you own -- say -- Terraria on GoG, you WILL need to also have Steam installed anyway for tModLoader to access the Steam Workshop, which is the main distribution source of Terraria Mods. So if you're one of the 3 people who game on PC and also refuse to have Steam in some form, this may be an issue.

As much as I loved experiencing this game for the first time, I couldn't help from having the playthrough be held back by the classic jank that plague a lot of platformers around this time. Some worlds are wildly better than others, and with that comes a lot of annoying things (mainly the theater level).

With all of that aside though, there's still a good game underneath some of the janky and dated stuff. The story is unique, characters are funny, and it's got a creative art style that really draws you in. I can't wait to dive into the sequel assuming that they fixed most of the problems I had with this one.

This game should be the poster child of a game ‘getting in the way of itself’. What I mean by that is, the actual combat encounters and card based gameplay is top tier and genuinely so enjoyable. I loved setting up a round to just sweep through the enemies while constantly having my attacks refunded - so satisfying when it all just works.

The flipside on this is that between these great missions that have you doing a cary of objectives and countering many different enemy types, is a terrible cringe inducing Disney Channel Show for tweens.

It honestly felt like they couldn’t work out the demographic for this game, as part of it feels like aimed at older people who like slower strategy games, and the other part feels like it was made for kids who grew up on Iron Man firing off constant zingers for a couple movies in a row.

As I found out in my Need for Speed review, I really have less patience for this kind of dialogue and game setup than what I thought, and ultimately it marred my experience and interrupted the flow of the game enough to make me shelve it.

My advice, play this muted and go watch youtube while you spam through the dialogue between the excellent missions and gameplay.

[~1.5hrs in]
First and foremost, let me begin by saying that Trico is both adorable and terrifying. It's like an XL Bully that you want to befriend; you stroke it cautiously, yet cannot ignore the possibility it may randomly snap and tear your face off at any moment. The game, though beautiful in design, does a spectacular job of no hand-holding whatsoever; I've already got frustrated enough to Google how to get past a section because the hint kept telling me to climb, but I could not find anything to climb. Turned out, I didn't need to climb; the hint was misleading to say the least. The path so far it has been relatively linear, unsure if that's how it remains throughout, but exploration feels faux organic - it seems like you're following your own intuition and figuring it out, but there really is no other way to proceed so eventually you're always going to end up being correct. The game has a constant tension, like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop... or my companion to maul me... I'm intrigued, but by no means blown away.

[4hrs in]
Did not finish. I'm regrettably abandoning this title already. The concept is nice, Trico is cool and the premise of training him like some kinda alien dog is novel... but my god are the controls janky and the environment repetitively bland. Jumping, climbing, and even running is frustrating - it's not smooth at all. And the gameplay is just not fun. I checked the IGN walkthrough to get a sense of how long the game is and after seeing I'm only on Part 5/14, I can't be bothered to endure that much more of this. I have way too many other games on my Backlog to find time for.

My experience with this game has been weird. I wrote about my 3:00 AM ramblings from a launch party with a couple friends, heard some of the terrible plot points from my sister, and now have skipped past that pesky middle part where the game supposedly lives to beat Ganon for my friend who can’t flurry rush to save his life. Have I earned Completed status for this game? I technically had the controller in my hand both when I earned and completed the quests “Defeat Ganon” and “Save Zelda”, so… good enough for me!

These thoughts were written on that friend’s request and concern the last two hours of the game, so full spoilers and all that. Just like last time, no drafts, I’m only spending one evening thinking about this.

I feel like to give context to my thoughts, and to get this out of my system: I loved Breath of the Wild. I toyed with writing a review of that game before Tears of the Kingdom came out, because cultural osmosis was making me think about it again. My first playthrough, two weeks before the game’s official release, was as easy a 5/5 experience as I’ve ever had. But in trying to articulate what I liked about Breath of the Wild, I realized I didn’t want to talk about it. I had a real, human experience with that game that I don’t want to share with anyone, even if I knew how to describe it.

The problem with having a human experience with a piece of mainstream culture is how rivers erode. I never found the horse god in my 120 hours with Breath of the Wild, I never cooked a recipe more complicated than a hearty skewer, I never broke a horn off the flying dragons. But once the game came out, there were some people whose entire experience with Breath of the Wild was catching horses, cataloging recipes, and hunting everything that moved. Suddenly I had tons of knowledge regarding this world of Hyrule that I’d never gained myself. But because I loved that game and that world so much, I didn’t guard myself, because how often do you get to connect with others over something so personal and joyous? So the act of remembering “what is Breath of the Wild?” conjured a memory that was less pure, less mine.

Fun fact, I have not read a single game review written by a person paid to review new video games since Breath of the Wild! I did not read a single contribution to that near-perfect Meta Critic score that I respected! Even though at the moment, Breath of the Wild was my favorite game of all time!

I promise this is relevant for Tears of the Kingdom. Because for the last few years, I have been content to not think about Breath of the Wild as much as possible. I really wanted to preserve that feeling of mystery, that knowledge that I could still connect with something in an all-encompassing yet largely emotional way. (Tears of the Kingdom’s terrible cryptic marketing helped; I barely believed that game was real up until the year of its release.)

But the thing about Tears of the Kingdom, the bee that will not get out of my bonnet, is how much this game is so bone-headedly opposite in ethos from Breath of the Wild. I don’t think most people will notice because bones of Breath of the Wild are still under there, but all art is elevated by the connective tissue, the engineering that turns ideas from concepts into metaphysically tangible objects. To see Breath of the Wild taken apart and reassembled to be more but significantly lesser… sucks. Not just because I would have loved for another easy 5/5 experience, but because those touches of familiarity, those notes being played again but off-key, tear into my cherished memory of Breath of the Wild and force me to think mechanically about how it worked and how it worked for me. Which I really didn’t want to do!

Like, I know now that the combat’s borked, the weapons degradation system was a novel but ultimately flawed idea, the enemy variety was lame, the side quests were mostly pointless, the world was mostly empty. And the DLC was a complete joke compared to what people thought they would get out of it, (but probably because the meat of it probably went on to become this game instead!).

I know all of those things now, regarding Breath of the Wild as a piece of software, and I do not give a single flying shit. It’s not like those flaws didn’t exist in my playthrough. But during those two weeks of 2017, the fantastically unmatched trailer, the best tutorial level in 3D gaming, the art direction, the music, were all enough to more than make up for its flaws. Because what worked harmonized, and the harmony was fresh. It's exceedingly difficult to talk about one element of Breath of the Wild without talking about everything else, because the game was thought of from the ground up as a series of systems. Everything about the aesthetic, gameplay loop, level geometry, and story were designed to accommodate those systems.

In a way, playing the final gauntlet of Tears of the Kingdom was the perfect microcosm of articulating the vague, off-vibes I got from the beginning of the game, because it showed me how unaware and contemptuous Tears of the Kingdom was of the delicate balance of those systems at Breath of the Wild’s core.

(Setting the scene for game's end: we need to dive down a hole, run through a maze, fight through a few waves of enemies, then fight Ganon and his four phases.)

To begin with, why was there black goo that could permanently seal my hearts? That I couldn’t get back with healing items? For just, walking on the ground? What kind of experience is that trying to make me have? It doesn’t synergize with any other flavor of gameplay loop that Breath of the Wild is built on. At best, I could imagine drinking potions to counteract it like an environmental hazard, but if those existed my friend hadn’t made them. Regardless, it’s emblematic of the most artificial way to “increase difficulty” there is.

But why the need to increase difficulty? To make combat more thrilling or tense? Since when has Zelda been good at that? Since when has the Switch run the Breath of the Wild engine at 60 fps to justify trying to be Elden Ring for a moment?

The answer to those last two questions being “never” meant that getting to the final gauntlet to fight Ganon required just… running past rooms of enemies. It felt so lame, but it also felt like the only way to be playing the game correctly. What possible reward could there be to warrant engaging with combat in this scenario in any way? For new weapons? For new crafting materials? It’s the end of the freakin’ game! I’d only need those if I fought those enemies and broke my weapons and…

Oh. So that Fuse ability was multiple thousands of programmer man-hours spent making a new system that papered over the broken and un-fun weapon durability system, did nothing to stop the resultant hoarding and avoidant behavior of discerning players, but did add more resource juggling conveyed via terrible overworld fiddling in place of what should have been a crafting menu! Got it!

So I run past everyone in the awful maze to get to the awful gauntlet, and why hello, Link has a bunch of friends here to help! Great! Why is the button to use their abilities the same as trying to pick up the weapons and crafting materials? Why does the goat woman have a mech suit that takes one accidental button press to clamber inside, but two button presses to clamber out of? In what world could using her bullshit be better than my own, when being astride her mech suit makes me a target 5x bigger and still susceptible to permanently losing my hearts?

Because in this super fun end game, you can’t use any healing items from the moment you descend through to the first three phases of the Ganon fight! Like, why? Why is the game forcing me to not engage with the cooking system? When that was encouraged as a viable way to solve problems in the tutorial Great Plateau in Breath of the Wild? I never cared about cooking, but I knew it was an option!

So after getting through the gauntlet the first time and facing Ganon with four hearts, I cursed and reloaded and realized the best way through was to… continue running around the arena and wait for my friends to kill all the enemies. Because there was no incentive to engage. The cost was a permanent handicap, the reward was… weapons and crafting materials? When the game was going to force me into using the Master Sword as a default in the next room?

(I just want to take a moment to comment how lame all the Breath of the Wild monsters looked with goo on their face and extra crafting materials glued on their heads. Having all of that nonsense shoved into my face made me feel like I really hadn’t missed anything jumping from the tutorial sky island to down in the depths, and that made me sad.)

Fighting Ganon sucked in a way where I could tell the game really, really wanted me to be flurry rushing and parrying his blows. Bro, if your clones and my friends are dropping the frame rate this bad, in addition to getting in my way of being able to fucking see, you do not get the right to design your combat encounter around precision and timing. Again, I had not played either of these games much since 2017, but I was able to get him within an hour. So he was doable, but his fight so clearly demanded a specific play style, and that rigidity really bothered me. The whole initial appeal of Breath of the Wild was the absurdity of fighting him in your underwear with a stick on fire! Where was the option to be a complete dumbass instead of a self-serious “badass”?

I think that dichotomy and policing of tone is really at the core of my complaints. Because the wild possibility set contained within Breath of the Wild was broad and deep enough to get me invested. Did it warrant the emotional investment I gave it? Fuck, all video games are a waste of time, if you want to be an ass about things. Life’s pointless if you break it down to the time you spend commuting, sleeping, doing dishes and laundry. Humans are a tube, and it’s up to you to find the reason why you keep filling up to empty into the toilet. Art’s purpose is to suggest what that reason might be, to convince you that wasting your time engaging with that art instead of your reality can be the reason to live through that reality. Random chance plays a part - I’ve out of nowhere cried at YouTube comments I read on the wrong day - but I argue the quality of a piece of art is how intentional it is about convincing you of the lie, that you can find something of true value both within and within yourself if you give it your heart and time. Breath of the Wild was a cultural moment because it has proved through its staying power how good it was at drawing people in and getting them to invest.

And you know what? Tears of the Kingdom is straight-up coasting. I feel zero shame talking about Breath of the Wild for so much here instead of reviewing it on its own page, because Tears of the Kingdom absolutely failed to get me to invest.

Part of that is because what was fresh in 2017 is not fresh in 2023. The Breath of the Wild aesthetic has been so badly imitated from so many people that the color scheme alone can make something look cheap. Breath of the Wild was excused for its flaws in the context of its time. It was a Wii U port for christ sake, we had no idea if the Switch was capable of better! But now we have years of seeing the Switch fall behind while freakin’ Genshin Impact HD-ified them graphics for mobile phones. But trapped in its own legacy and forgetting the reason that aesthetic worked so well, Tears of the Kingdom tries to fudge it, to evoke that same spirit with different colors and the same brush. It doesn’t work! Yellow is not freedom! Green is not the sky! The colors you picked for Hyrule don’t work when we’re sky diving and deep cave spelunking, and the fixes you tried just broke the spell the original had on me!

And honestly, Sky Islands are a terrible game play idea! Stop trying to make it happen! Either you have grounded gameplay, where the sky island-ness is lost when you make the planetoid large enough to be a Super Mario Galaxy level, or you can freely fly around in 3D space. But if you can fly in 3D space, the sky island becomes an obstacle as much as a destination. (As someone who played Star Fox 64 as their first video game, flying in 3D space kinda sucks! If a game exists without an incredibly clunky grating transition between flight and ground, let me know!) So of course the sky gets sparsely populated, like it was in Skyward Sword, because humans just do not have enough thumbs for 3D movement and camera control and character action combat. Anything with more versatility than an arcade shooter is unlikely to rise above the status of a very niche gameplay character study.

The great irony of my going on that tangent is me remembering my sister showing me a hover bike, which she summoned out of nothing and seemingly could use anywhere, that let her fly past a giant chasm. My brain could not help calculating how long that would have taken to climb in Breath of the Wild, seeing all the design choices that were made for scaling from one side or the other, and then dying inside seeing how it was all pointless. Because how could I invest in this game world when the major mechanic of justifying the game world’s whole existence could be completely invalidated? I cannot overstate this. Hyrule existed in the way that it did so you could climb it. People idiotically complained about “where are the dungeons” in Breath of the Wild when the whole damn map was a dungeon more dungeon-y than their nostalgia-goggled memories. The gameplay loop of climbing, distraction, climbing, reward was so good at invoking investment because it was all completely divorced from traditional video-game-y systems. You did not get points for climbing walls. You were not timed. The rewards for clearing enemy camps or finding korok puzzles sucked. But they were proof of your own triumphs for your own goals. Does that exist in Tears of the Kingdom? It can’t, not in the same way. I can’t not think about how pointless something is if a game shows me a goblin way of doing things. I have to be really invested and subconsciously role-playing to not optimize the shit out of a good time.

So having not been invested in the world of Tears of the Kingdom, I could plainly see how bad the writing was at soliciting my emotional investment on its own merits. Let me be clear, Zelda games have always had bad writing. They have always been good games in spite of their writing. Breath of the Wild had the illusion of better writing by only having a setting, a pretense, but not a plot. An old man wishes for you to save his daughter, and you piddle around until you do. Since you can do this whenever, everything is optional. Since everything is optional, everything you do contributes to your goal. Since everything is tied to your goal, and accomplishing the actions of the gameplay loop is fun, everything feels like it is endued with meaning. So you can invest, in the game, in the world, in the "story."

Tears of the Kingdom foolishly listened to people who complained there wasn’t more story. Guys, the Zelda team don’t know how to do anything you think they should be capable of writing. Everything happens via magic. There are no rules. Lore, timelines, whatever - words, mist, piss in the wind. But worst of all, in this game’s case, their understanding of how to cater to whims is to somehow get more basic and less creative while trying to expand on what lives in this game’s world. Ganon getting horns and a club to look like a stereotypical oni is like… guys. Demise was a terrible character design! Get as far the fuck away from that as you can! You can go in any direction you want with the epithet The Demon King!

I just can not get over how goofy and stupid those dragon designs are. Also reeling that Zelda’s final contribution to the final fight was to be a glorified elevator to try to make diving combat work. It just kinda confirmed for me how much it sucked! It felt so lame to watch Ganon’s dragon googly eyes not watching me land on his patiently waiting head. If this becomes either of their Final Smashes in the next Smash Bros. I’m gonna scream.

(Is it even worth ripping apart the stupidity of Zelda’s time travel shenanigans in this one? Her dumbass decision to eat a rock to become a dragon to grow a sword over the course of 10,000 years, instead of, I dunno, spending a lifetime trying to find another way of doing things before sacrificing her humanity? Maybe eat the rock as a last resort when she’s about to die of old age as a final hail mary? Maybe ask the Great Deku Tree if he has any ideas, a cousin maybe? Ask for a seed to plant a new one on a remote island somewhere?)

I was so mad (again, commensurate with my investment of 7 hours total of this game) when the ghosts of her great-great-grand furry and some other magic lady were able to change her back? And give Link his arm back?? Implying they could have done that at any time??? Because I think Zelda would have been damn useful fighting Ganon earlier once we found her dragon form to get the sword stuck in her head!

When Purah showed up in the final cutscene to just, hang around while ghost furry goat dragon woman died, (and no one shed a single tear (guess no one cared?)), I saw exactly how much respect and care this game had for getting me to invest in it. Because the hundred year old loli from the first game had been upgraded to legal waifu status, granted main character status, and got to be here, at the end, relevant to nothing that was happening. Hoping to engage me because I thought she was hot or something. All as the soundtrack did the most embarrassing oscillations between Tears of the Kingdom’s nothing-burger of a main theme, Zelda’s lullaby, and the Legend of Zelda Main Theme in a desperate attempt to make me feel something. To claw out some meaning from emotional connections to games and worlds that weren’t this one.

No identity. No meaning. No point. $70, game of the year, in all the contempt that implies.

A Crack in Time is a prime example of money being poured on a skeleton that is yet unformed. There is no level design. Combat was hilariously, tediously boring even on Hard. The story is nonsensical, retcon-y ameature-hour drivel. But the generic level concepts are rendered with incredible detail, the character animations are the best in the series so far, and the comedic timing with Dr. Nefarious has been honed to greatness. Controlling Ratchet feels smooth and satisfying, and his rocket boots are a great addition to the series. There’s just no substance to support all the elements that are real works of love, a truth that makes me laugh in frustration.

Trying to describe the frustrations of A Crack in Time are akin to when Amazon asks you to provide photo evidence of a package not being delivered. The Ratchet Wiki has lists of planets, hidden trinkets, and side missions, just like many other Ratchet games. But unlike other Ratchet games, where you needed to prod and explore levels to find secrets and rewards, aCiT puts its trinkets out in the open. It puts checklists on map menus and tells you what you’ll find on a planetoid before you land there. The story-critical planets are incredibly linear experiences, but filled with bombastic NPC pyrotechnic displays meant to hide how little the game is asking the player to do.

It feels like a war is happening within the soul of A Crack in Time, as if it doesn’t want to be a Ratchet and Clank game. First off, it splits the two up immediately, meaning Ratchet cannot high jump, long jump, or glide, meaning Ratchet’s platforming levels can only require use of a basic jump. Clank’s moveset is even more limited, but also becomes the primary vector of aCiT’s platforming half of its shooter-platformer genre designation. As a result, both halves feel like watered-down experiences. I expected this split was a tutorial mechanic to ease players into the full Ratchet & Clank moveset, but by the time they reunited, it was time for the final boss.

During the third time the game made me fight a hydra tank, (but this time two at once! Without re-balancing their moveset from their being fought one at a time!), upon Ratchet’s dramatic death animation, I said, out-loud, “This is so boring!” with a sincere laugh. Because the idea that I was bored, contrasted with the visuals on-screen, was absurd. A war between cartoon aliens was happening around me! Space vikings and robot dragons were dancing underneath an exploding disco ball! I had a gun that opened a portal to a tentacle monster named Fred!

But none of Ratchet’s weapons made enemies react in different ways, so all of them were equally useless, their utility externally decided by how much they depleted an on-screen enemy health bar. Enemy shots could reach Ratchet from across the map, far beyond what could be shown on screen, so the level’s layout didn’t matter. There was nothing for my brain to do but jump when it saw a flashing light, and hold down the shoot button.

Luckily the shallowness of the gameplay gives me some room to comment on the story, which is weird. I was going to say it is entirely without women, since none of Ratchet’s females from previous games return, but then I remembered it introduced a whole species of Valkeries that Ratchet kind of genocides. Like, villains from previous games have had ambiguous cartoon deaths to come back later, but the dialog of aCiT says that Ratchet just straight-up killed these ladies. It’s very weird.

Women are so absent from aCiT that it ends up actually feeling kinda gay? We meet a friend of Ratchet’s dad who is real sad that Ratchet's parents are dead. He really loved Ratchet’s dad. Carries around a locket with a picture of them together. But we never learn Ratchet’s mother’s name?! Googling “Ratchet’s mom” brought me to the most hilariously depressing wiki entry I’ve ever seen, where the only thing we know about this woman is she was shot dead in front of her husband? And Ratchet never shows an ounce of curiosity in learning anything about her?? Like her name???

Dr. Nefarious and Lawrence are both excellent cartoon villains, but come from that great Disney tradition of queer-coding their love of evil theatrics and drama. So much so that my head tilted when an in-game news report referred to them as “partners.” Maybe that word didn’t have that connotation in the year of this game’s release. Or maybe it did, and the makers of this game just had no idea what they were doing with queer representation. Like, there’s an armor vendor who looks like James Stephanie Sterling and is very queer-coded, wearing pink, and having an affectation associated with gay fashionistas. But since his role is so minor, no other characters interact with him, (even Ratchet!), so his inclusion almost wraps back around into unironic positive queer representation? I’m sure he was meant to be a joke, but then the only joke could have been “lol a gay alien.” But, since there’s no mockery, no punchline besides a faithful recreation of a fat gay alien, it’s not a joke, just inclusion. This hurts my brain.

I guess it had to have been meant as a joke because Captain Quark is back and spends a good third of the game in terrible drag. I hate him so much and there is no space for him in any of these games past the first. He bloats and worsens every game he appears in. As I’ve said before, I will give 5/5 stars to the first Ratchet game that lets me permanently kill him.

In my rating system, 2 stars represents an average, C rank game, and although I enjoyed parts of it, A Crack in Time is a solid C-. The art direction has aged amazingly, and Dr. Nefarious is wonderful. I did not have zero fun playing this game. But my god, it would have been possibly an improved experience if all the gameplay was stripped and turned into a walking simulator GRIS-style. At least then its shallowness wouldn’t distract me from its strengths.