The first time The Sexy Brutale was pitched to me, I couldn't have been more intimidated. Likened to an immersive theatre production, it's up to you, mild mannered priest Lafcadio, to navigate an intricate time loop to prevent a series of murders in the titular mansion/casino. Observe the eccentric guests' routines and habits over the course of the evening, and then wind back the clock so you can be in the right place, at the right time, with the right knowledge and tools to swoop in and save the day. But with half a dozen murders set to occur, can you beat the clock and save everybody?

In reality, the game couldn't be less complicated. The Sexy Brutale is a series of roughly seven discrete adventure game puzzles with solutions obvious to the observant. This sees you chase after the guests and spy on their actions through keyholes and secret passages. You can't get too close, though–Lafcadio exists outside of time, and entering a room occupied by another character causes…their head to levitate off their body and chase you around, inflicting damage in an effort to make you restart the current loop. You can easily escape by exiting the room, but you can't interact with any puzzles or items until a room is unoccupied.

Each murder is essentially an independent chapter in which you save a single targeted character, or occasionally a duo. All murders are observable across the game's duration, but attempting to save anyone but that chapter's target sees the game wrap you on the knuckles and restart the current time loop, reminding you to stay focused.

Still, I expected everything to come together in a final hurrah at the end, where you use what you've learned to stop every single murder one after the other. Incredibly, this happens in a non-interactive cutscene.

For years I was unsure I was up to The Sexy Brutale's challenge, but when I finally took the plunge I found no challenge at all. I'm not a challenge snob but there's really nothing to it–I actually ended up solving a few murders completely by accident, just by interacting with different room objects to see what they did. The game's audiovisual style is probably more appealing than its gameplay, and while it is unique, it just wasn't for me. I didn't dig the indie comic-meets-SD character models, and I really hate electro swing/big band, so I didn't have a great time with the soundtrack either.

Good on Cavalier Games for debuting with a game they really wanted to make, and more power to them, but this one just wasn't for me. Perhaps their next effort will have a little more depth.

Folks were talking about Village from the very first teaser trailer: there's vampires now? Werewolves?? Witches??? Longtime fans were skeptical to see the series break its own rules by including the entire Universal Monsters cadre, but skepticism soon turned to horniness when Capcom revealed Lady Dimetrescu, the internet's Big Vampire Mommy GF ("Fans, we've heard your cries: so we've released her exact shoe size").

The period between this reveal and Village's release was an exhausting time to be on Vidya Twitter. Thankfully, Village is a worthy successor to Resident Evil 7, just as gross and silly as its immediate predecessor. Ethan Winters is as Wonder Bread™ a protagonist as ever, but the supporting cast more than makes up for it with a rogue's gallery who wouldn't be out of place in one of the stronger Metal Gear Solid titles. Each of the Four Lords' territories sees a horror genre change that keeps things fresh and amusing with equal parts creeping dread and laugh-out-loud moments.

Like RE 7, the back quarter isn't quite as strong as the rest of the game, but Resident Evil has never been a series that knew how to stick the landing. This is less a condemnation of Village as it is acknowledgement of Just How Freakin Good the rest of the game is: Village manages to be simultaneously self-aware and deft-handed, an accomplishment for any game, let alone a storied, over-the-top series like Resident Evil.