Fortuna, beloved

Using tarot-like readings as a mechanism to nudge countless elements of the story in different directions is a stroke of genius that I never tired of. There’s a strong sense of context developed for the characters and events here, and it’s used to great effect as it managed to whirlwindishly stir up all sorts of feelings in me. The resolution of my story was more chaotic and messy than I’d hoped, but it feels like there’s such a kaleidoscopic range of possibilities for where this game ends up that this isn’t actually a shortcoming in my book. A huge leap forward from Red Strings Club

Clive “Mine’s Bigger” Rosfield is the himbo hero Final Fantasy needed. I just wish the story and themes built up around him weren’t held together with elmers glue and scotch tape. In lieu of any well-articulated thoughts (DeviousJinjo’s writeup and the Insert Credit episode on this capture my feelings nicely), please partake of some stray notes:

There’s still some quintessential FF-ness here—I felt it most in the spirit of the cinematics and the moments when pretty people say pretty things to one another while rapturous music accompanies them—but I found myself sorely missing a substantial party dynamic or sense of exploration

From a character/writing standpoint, every single woman in this game was a mess of squandered potential (Mid being the possible exception—and aided by her distance from the spotlight)

The combat’s good fun but feels stretched thin over the game’s runtime; however, the boss-to-scrub-encounter ratio was seriously impressive

The villain is such a snoozy bag of nothing, but there's an amazing part where he affectlessly says "such foul attaint may not be sublimed through gainstanding" while going super saiyan...I don't think even Joyce could keep up with this guy

And to end, a dumb analogy:
Cid : FFXVI’s story :: a mother crystal’s heart : the rest of the mother crystal

Miles Edgeworth is the Char Aznable of video games, and I adore him



I read curse's killer review and my reaction was "oh I gotta pick this up immediately"

1. What a soundscape...that music...with those gun fx...with all those dumbos' walkie-talkie distorted screams and panicked one-liners (SHIT!!!)...not to mention that music...

2. The visual design of these levels is so incredibly my jam—lay my body to rest in these hallowed halls

3. I didn't realize how much your bullet time gauge restores on kills and went through almost half of the game severely underutilizing it, sweating and swearing at how hard each level was (and still loving every second). Then after I had that forehead slap moment it felt like I'd ascended to divinity

4. I heap mountains of praise on the idea of 1 gun = 1 magazine, and when you’re out of ammo automatically nicking guns off the ground (or sidearms right out of enemies’ holsters!)

oh and before I forget: holy god that music!

Lunar takes my prize for Pleasant Surprise JRPG, with a special emphasis on the "pleasant" cause this is nothing but an easygoing time all around. Everything’s nicely balanced; the magic and item economy is simple but designed such that I was regularly using both; the pacing of towns and dungeons felt just right

It’s a lovely little world they’ve put together here, with a surprising amount of detail. The translation is a bit sophomoric, but I didn’t mind as it also managed to pretty regularly put a smile on my face. And the voice acting is so atrocious that it makes the full circle around to being charming

There’s also some surprisingly forward thinking design decisions here that keep it from ever feeling sloggy too, like just saying nope to random encounters and allowing you to save anywhere anytime. And lastly, it’s amazing how much a simple thing like adding x-y positioning to your party and enemies in the turn-based battles can make even simple encounters much more engaging. Looking forward to the sequel

One of the more beautiful games I’ve played, and a thing that feels like it was destined to find me at this precise moment of my life, as I grapple with the recent passing of my dad. This gentle journey through the most bittersweet and bucolic post-apocalypse I’ve seen, armed with nothing but a camera, a field recorder, and a bicycle: this is what I needed

Everything in Season is poetry. The familiar world tinged with a hint of magic. The far-reaching thoughts of the main character as she opens her eyes to the life, culture, and history of her surroundings. The understated character work and voice acting. The richly layered thematic material. Here is a game deeply concerned with memory and loss, while always keeping a hopeful, if anxious, eye toward the future. I love the tone that’s captured here so much

Games like this often focus on their writing, their art, their vibes, but Season deserves recognition for the mechanics on display as well. Whipping out a device and capturing a moment feels effortless, and the world has been assembled with such fastidious care that every shot I took felt like a minor masterpiece. I cannot overstate how important this was. Compared to a game like Umurangi, where I rarely felt like I’d actually taken a “good” picture, Season made me feel like a photographic genius. The lighting and composition always fall right into place like magic. I walked away from this thinking “gee maybe I should take up photography!” (I won’t). And although at the start of the game I was worried that assembling the scrapbook might get old and tedious, it never did. I loved finding new ways to arrange the elements of each page, I loved the mix of open-ended and goal-oriented pages, and it was a really special moment to flip back through the whole thing at the end

And then there’s the bicycle: it was such a simple and rich joy to just coast across this world. I also loved how my fingers would actually get a bit tired when biking up hills from having to pump the triggers filled with DualSense tension

I was hoping for just a little bit more from the ending, but this is dangerously close to a perfect game to me

This review contains spoilers

I don’t think I’ve ever felt as sad while playing a jrpg as I felt when, after defeating the big evil of Dragon Quest V, I made a victory lap around the world, visiting old friends and allies, and called upon Bianca to find her exactly as I’d left her ten years earlier, alone and caring for her ailing father in a backwoods village. I rejected my childhood friend’s profession of love and married a rich girl I hardly knew cause she seemed cute and had a cute dog. I felt pretty grand about my decision for the rest of my playthrough, as her rich dad constantly showered us with gifts and praise. And I didn’t think about Bianca much at all

But once I’d saved the world I stormed back into her life for three whole minutes, just enough time to march my beautiful wife and adorable kids around her small log cabin, to foist a comically cruel situation upon her in which all she could do was mutter a few more words of praise for me and my perfect family, words I’d heard a thousand times already. And then I was out the door and flying away again on a dragon god’s back, without having asked a single question about her life or how she’s holding up. I didn’t even let her keep the sabrecat we rescued together as kids (a rescue that was her idea no less). I just kept him imprisoned in my monster wagon instead and forgot he existed

Dragon Quest V taught me that I’m an evil far worse than any demon lord

Incredible game though

Immortality won’t stop you pondering what lies beyond

There are plenty of gripes I can level at this game, even issues that were ostensibly present in the last one but only started bothering me this time around (looking at you, combat camera). It took way too long for me to get fully invested in where it was going, but when it got me, it felt like I’d been socked in the chin by mjolnir and flung into the heavens

These games understand what makes European mythology so intriguing. These gods walking among mortals are so tangible and fleshy, often literally covered in a layer of grime. They seem so human as they walk and talk, Kratos and Freya preciously inching their way up a rock face one handhold at a time, only letting their leap-fifty-feet-in-the-air weirdo selves out when in direct confrontation with monstrosity or one another. It’s knowing they have that inner weirdo that gives the quiet parts such power and menace. Despite being so close to human, they still reek of otherness, each with their spider’s web of agenda and history, each sitting dragon-like on a hoard of esoteric and arcane knowledge

Santa Monica does a laudable job of evoking these things in the atmosphere of their cinematics, writing, and performances. The single-shot might be a superfluous gimmick when considering the game as a whole (if you’re gonna do it commit to it, and find a way to ditch the traditional equipment/skill menus, tutorials, lore dumps, etc), but it’s a worthy decision for the cutscenes, shackling themselves with a constraint that necessitates such meticulous staging and rhythm, and thereby giving this game a style and language that fits the subject wonderfully in my eyes

All that said, I’m so glad they’re not making another one of these

Favorite video game moment in recent memory: Harry Mason walks into a hospital room. The important thing about this room is a picture frame on a bedside table. But if you accidentally press the interact button while facing a little more toward the bed than the picture like I did, Harry thinks aloud: “A bed?! What’s it doing here?”

…you’re in a hospital, Harry…

I love this guy. I love this game. I want someone to make a game today where the whole thing looks like Silent Hill’s CGI cutscenes

Possibly my favorite dialogue I’ve seen in a game. To draw characters so richly with such a short runtime is inspiring. And the use of Big Text made me so happy. Why does Big Text make me so happy?

SF2 offers a lesson in the impact of small design decisions. Mechanically, this game is identical to its predecessor; however, the developers nudged up the speed of the messages and battle animations (and allow the player to speed them up a little more by holding down a button) and this makes a world of difference for the game’s playability. Improved balancing and boss encounters also help. The only thing that felt like a step backwards was the humor, or relative lack thereof. This one has a frank quality to its translation that’s amusingly endearing, but I just didn’t find myself chuckling aloud frequently the way I did with the first

Through dumb luck, I happened to be nearing the end of Eco’s The Name of the Rose when Pentiment released and had no idea how perfect of a companion piece the game would make for the book. Both are medieval murder mysteries centered around an abbey famous for its library, both feature liberal use of words such as “scriptorium” and “compline”, and both thematically treat with the ethics around the dissemination vs the guarding of knowledge, the wavering line that divides dogma and heresy, and the push and pull of progress and tradition

Sawyer and the rest of the creative team behind Pentiment, however, do far more than enough to prevent their game from being derivative. They acknowledge the influence right at the outset by literally presenting the player with the first page of The Name of the Rose (albeit in Latin) and then signal their intent to use that influence merely as a launchpad by asking the player to erase the page in front of them

What follows is a dazzlingly constructed tale in which you see a small town and its inhabitants meaningfully evolve over time (why do more games not do this?). While it may lack the erudition and depth of Eco’s prose, I think it manages to pull together a more intriguing and satisfying narrative, a particular accomplishment given how much player choice factors into the storytelling. The difficulty of pulling off this kind of branching writing does show its seams here and there. There were instances where the player character would react inappropriately to a conversational tidbit based on what had already been heard earlier. There was also the occasional moment where I’d start a conversation with a specific purpose in mind only to not have the right dialogue options available to pursue my desired line of inquiry. And sometimes salt would then be sprinkled on top by my getting parleyed into a corner I did not want to be in. But even while cursing I had to admire the way there was no “undo” action available and I had to just live with my regret. Not enough games indulge in the feeling of regret

Anyway, Pentiment succeeds wildly. Great game. It’s a shame Norco also came out this year so I can’t give Pentiment my best narrative GOTY

[Every year my buddy starts a “year in review” thread where a bunch of friends and friends of friends share their favorite things/experiences of the year. Since I played the entirety of FFXIV over the past 10 months, I wrote a piece about it and figured I’d copy it here]

…Legs weary from a day spent in the chocobo saddle, I reclined on a bench in the heart of a town tucked cozy away in an ancient forest and watched a man named Daddy pluck the sugary notes of "Californication" on a glowing guitar, while a nearby gaggle of catgirls whipped out brooms and tried in vain to sweep in rhythm to the song. I was home…

2022 was the shittiest year of my life. I spent much of it watching my dad die—the ALS slowly wearing his muscles down to nothing. The inevitability of an incurable disease means you start the grieving process while the subject of your grief is still beside you. It’s weird and intense

Weeks and months spent with family in my hometown tugged at a slowly tightening knot that reprieves in the city where I currently live would loosen again. Although the greatest source of relief for me was my family and friends and the good times I still managed to have with them this year, I'm also a big believer in escapism, and boy did I do some escaping this year: a vital means of loosening that knot was Final Fantasy XIV, a fathomless game that can swallow you whole

In FFXIV, you're dropped into a vast and bewildering and beautiful world, the result of over a decade of work by a whole (whole) lot of people. Simply put, you go on an adventure. Less simply put, you play through action-packed quests while engaging with a sprawling narrative in a world inhabited by many other human players (leading to spontaneous moments of amusement like the one described in the prelude)

FFXIV’s quests are consistently imaginative and wonderful and filled with meticulous mechanics and design. I chose to play as a healer when teaming up with others, and found it one of the most singular experiences I've had with a game. I would get zoned into this pristine zen-like state of thought-to-action translation, a deluge of information reverberating around my skull from which I would glean a single Next Action to take from dozens of possibilities. And then half a second later it's time to do it again. It's gameplay enlightenment. The feeling of muscling your party back from the brink of death to finish off some creative horror and then setting off again to explore more wondrous locales never got old

"…in the end, I will always be of the sea," Yugiri said, wistfully casting her gaze toward her hometown, out of sight over the endless waves, as the nation she swore to protect lay shattered and blazing at our backs. I watched her desperately try to reconcile her origins with her present duties after brutally bearing witness to the fear and despair that had left her countrymen broken under the iron fist of their oppressor. The delivery of her monologue paired with the swelling, haunting orchestral accompaniment set my mind on fire…

From hour one, FFXIV shines for its deep gameplay systems framed in a gorgeously crafted world. Sadly, the narrative of the early game isn't quite on par in quality, offering only a boilerplate fantasy storyline. With its first two expansions, the broader ambition of the writing team begins to come into focus, and the story becomes more than satisfying enough to propel you through the game's myriad content, but, like many a broadly swept epic narrative, the many plot threads that are woven can feel uneven, and some become neglected over time in favor of ever-fresh, ever-new ones. With the third expansion, Shadowbringers, however, they handed the keys to Natsuko Ishikawa and let her finally tie this monstrous work together with a story that transcends the whole affair into pure sublimity (and thus unfortunately making this game the ultimate and worst example of "you just have to get x hours in and then it gets really good," and therefore a difficult investment to wholeheartedly recommend to anyone)

[heads up: the next two paragraphs contain Shadowbringers spoilers]

Despite my love for hyperbole, I will stop quite a ways short of calling Shadowbringers the greatest story ever told……however! I will say it pulls off the most remarkable magic trick I've ever seen in fictional storytelling. It plucks you up out of the world that's been laboriously built up around you, and plops you down in an alien and dying land utterly isolated from everything you know. Here you might say, "Ah I see, the writers unload themselves of the baggage of the earlier plot to give themselves the freedom to tell a whole new story." To which I would smugly retort, "Wrong! While forging this new story in a new world, they also simultaneously resurrect every single one of the threads they constructed over the first few hundred hours of the game and manage to re-contextualize everything in a way that retroactively makes every bit of the preceding narrative orders of magnitude better in hindsight!" That's the magic trick

One key conduit for Shadowbringers' narrative success is one of the most miraculously conceived and executed villains I've ever had the pleasure of traveling with in a game (in one of the many neat inversions of expectation, the villain is not a destination you work your way towards, but rather a companion accompanying you on your journey (and the fact he is a villain is not some third act twist either; you always know)). The story's finale struck a sincere chord with me to the point that I teared up, and those misty eyes weren't for the sake of something so dull as a comrade's self-sacrifice; they were for this villain whom cosmic circumstance (rightfully) bade me strike down. Magic

[end of Shadowbringers spoilers]

"…Reconciliation…I was needed. I withdrew myself…for them." A commitment forgotten, but still upheld. Loved ones forgotten, yet still felt. "My people. My brothers…my friends." Varicolored stones clutched in a child's hands. "Stay strong. Keep the faith. At duty's end, we will meet again. We will." A tear slips from behind the mask, then drifts upward alongside this poor soul's aether. "The rains have ceased, and we have been graced with another beautiful day…"

And now I should probably mention that Shadowbringers is only the second best expansion. If SB deconstructs and re-contextualizes the game's overarching narrative into a snug and tidy baseball, then Endwalker is the slugger that smacks that puppy into orbit (and I'm not just speaking figuratively here). It's a little messy, sure, and it takes a few zigs and zags along the way, but it does get there

In this year defined by a vigil over illness, I have looked longly upon the face of despair, and I have felt my own temperament incline in such a direction, felt the tug of the whirlpool of nihilism. And as stupid as this feels to say, Endwalker was one of the hands that pulled me from that current. It names despair itself one of its antagonists, paints a world in which despair is not just a consequence but a temptation, and where succumbing to the feeling invites literal monstrosity upon one's neighbors. And then it earnestly puts forth a message not of hope triumphing over despair but rather of hope regaining its rightful place alongside despair, acknowledging that darkness is not a thing to be defeated but rather a natural and inevitable part of life that we must learn to accept if we are to truly gaze upon this existence as the beautiful thing that it is. The way this message is delivered is so on-the-nose it could be a pair of glasses. It's so brazen, so saccharine that in any other year it may have repulsed me. But not this year. This year I let that message saturate my being. I cherished the story's more graceful moments and looked past its less graceful ones with ease. I wept when the hero of this tale—the avatar for myself, the player—through no input of my own, performed the single most tender and gut-wrenching act of mercy and understanding I've ever seen on a screen

I wish I had the words to convey how moving this journey was…for an MMO to drop a story on my head that was silly and exuberant in one moment, then dark and ponderous in the next, yet always brimming with a rare kind of messy emotional wisdom; brooding meaningfully on themes such as memory and legacy; impactful in the moment of experiencing it, then continuing to grow richer in hindsight as I think and read on it more…it's still hard to believe. In a year where joy was hard to find, Final Fantasy XIV provided it and provided it generously

"The rains have ceased, and we have been graced with another beautiful day. But you are not here to see it"

"Fate can be cruel, but a smile better suits a hero"

2022

Loved the opening cause it had the game's most interesting puzzle. Loved the ending cause it gets so o__O

Which made the middle all the more disappointing for the way it ripcord yanked me out of the engrossing atmosphere the moment I got sprayed in the face with acid while trying to punch a slug with the world's shittiest cattle prod

Made me realize how much real-life art galleries fall short of their potential by not having vibe-heavy music pulsating throughout them