this community deserves a better class of 'cult classic'. this game's hare-brained commitment to pastiche, if it can even be called homage, is as tedious as its combat. there's a crude smugness underlining much of this that tries to lighten its self-deprecating nature and vindicate the nonsensical and confused narrative that increasingly put a bad taste in my mouth. to what end does any of this serve? a game whose central concept invites boundless ideas and yet is frequently constrained by rules and thematic barriers. its lovingly rendered environments and eccentric set-pieces ultimately do little to excuse the 2010s-isms that stink up its identity. i can understand its lasting appeal and at points I found its overtly deliberate camp charming but after the hundredth flying refrigerator, thousandth needless fail state, the millionth shootout, and the trillionth Twin Peaks reference, I tapped out.

A game to make Tobe Hooper and Lucio Fulci proud. Lo-fi VHS swamp aesthetics, grotesque body horror and musty set dressing all married with uncomfortably clunky mechanics. It’s such a toxic relationship but all things considered makes for one of the most nerve wracking and accomplished horror experiences I’ve had in a minute. Didn’t give as much credit to this before as I should have even if it still fights with minor third act deflation and rough moments of stuffy first person awkwardness (hopefully will be straightened out in Village). Like pretty much every RE the sense of helplessness gives way to the player’s imminent empowerment through powerful weaponry by the end so I wasn’t as annoyed with the ship/mine sections this time around. In the end, I cannot deny that it’s invigorating to see the franchise finally grapple with what it means for a resident to truly be “evil” in a metaphorical sense, even with the ending somewhat missing out on the punchline with its flagrant optimism. Here, Americana is corrupted and manipulated by capitalist overlords, the rural family unit ruptured and grossly replicated, and any semblance of safety stripped. It’s all such seat-shifting excitement that it’s kinda dazzling that it works at all. While it may miss out on being a masterwork on the likes of some of the other entries, Biohazard is nonetheless a fruitful horror game that reminds us how banally unsettling an empty house really is and how terrifying it feels to know that you’re actually not alone and the dread that comes with seeing just how far down the rabbit hole goes. Good shit.

for all intents and purposes, this is the apotheosis to everything the previous remakes have sought to accomplish. it eschews the abstract poeticism of the original- losing the heightened nightmare married pulp power fantasy that it oozed in favor for the grounded visceral realism that defined the previous entries. in that case this succeeds as its not merely trying to replicate the classic but instead continues a thread already established; implementing fine-tuned narrative coherency in its characters and a welcome linearity in its level and environment design. for me, these things are rather perfunctory in the grand scheme but in the moment it is indeed a total blast. there is no doubt this will not age nearly as gracefully as the original if for one reason- a lack of modern innovation. this is simply an incredibly well polished restructuring and reskin of the original, undeniably calculated and carefully considered in every way, and for that it doesn't quite reach masterpiece status for me and probably never will. nonetheless this is an excellent AAA action-horror experience that consistently and cleverly exploits the sheer intensity of most set pieces to peak effect. I had the sweaty palms and the increased heart rate... I just wish the soul was more singular and less reliant on the overwhelming power of its past life.

A near masterpiece of queer rage, the haunted binds of domesticity in flux, and the reflexive nature of memory and narration. Its dated simplicity in visual design is more than made up with its eerily effective sound design and heartbreaking vocal performance by Sarah Grayson. Playing this with the commentary highlighted the intricately complex process that something like this requires within its deceptive exteriors. There's much that goes into the narrative misdirection that the exploration leads the player on and it pays off beautifully by the end. This is a game that initially purports conflict and confusion in its voids of spaces but then become a serenely moving tale that finds ghosts in love and love in ghosts; encased as tragic echoes perpetually trapped in winding suburban hallways and fleetingly filled bedrooms.

Fuck knows but I don't think I have seen a game so effectively elicit the nightmarish rhythms of a David Lynch film and the aesthetic murkiness of Tarkovsky's Stalker (with an explicit homage to Solaris to boot) as well as this game does; and all within an excellently succinct hour. First thing I wanted to do upon finishing was to do it all over again and take in its visceral horrors and surrealist images once more. It is a startling game that doesn't beg to be interpreted, only felt and it goes all in with marrying its obvious external influences with a medium that requires direct engagement from the consumer. Perhaps this is what the game is aiming to communicate; the potentially toxic relationship that exists between player and art, and the creator that exploits that link. You can't look away, and the game knows it.

Refreshingly unsentimental where it counts, mostly made up of post-humanist dystopia vibes and not much else. What more do you need in a game than neon lights and a cute kitty though? And this takes full advantage of those on that front. It is confident in its simplicity and knows where to draw the line before becoming needlessly complicated in further building mechanics. The focus remains on the beautifully textured atmosphere and the cat's interactions with the communities and the worlds they inhabit. It's not particularly rich in those explorations and I don't know how this will fare retrospectively but its briskness and accessibility (not to mention gorgeously moody soundtrack) made for a weekend well spent. A rainy day matinee blockbuster wrapped around an indie core. Admirable.

Exquisite grand guignol steampunk vibes withstanding, this game’s departure from the bare-bones survivalist elements of the first game into something a little more patient was quite refreshing for a while. Unfortunately that means that all the enemy encounters that DO occur are so awkwardly stitched into this atmospheric and anti-capitalist narrative that they sort of negate the questions of empathy that are posed by the narrator (one of the strangest attempts at a redemption arc if you ask me). I found myself more haunted by the demonizing portrayal of the pig-human atrocities and wondered how much of this is meant to be read as actual thoughtful social critique versus the occasionally goofy and simplistic trashy exploitation that it ends up being. If anything it feels more like empty fan-service to have these monsters loom over every second of the gameplay.. echoing pig squeals and earth shattering booms clouding up much of time you spend navigating the factories, sewers, muggy streets and reading clumsily littered journal entries explaining everything to the player. Per usual, The Chinese Room craft something quite luscious to look at and listen to (Dear Esther and EGTTR are both masterful) but it’s hard to shake the lack of clarity when it comes to the cumulative vision here. It felt most apparent in the chaotic climax when the camera would frequently and violently shake, making the muddy colors of the interiors bleed together into unintelligible masses for periods at a time, or when our “protagonist” would slowly slip into a dark area to hear the fiftieth voiceover monologue and for some reason the game takes away your lamp to make it SpoOkY, or when I fell through the map and bugged out of game’s space for the third time. It’s a beautiful mess I don’t regret playing, but TCR is capable of making bigger and better things than what felt like little more than a franchise sell-out here.

Come for the breathtaking vistas and immaculately detailed environments, stay for the fascinating probing of the delusions of grandeur from the American middle aged man and the rousing hijinx that ensue. Quite easily the strongest in the franchise, something I wasn't expecting at all, thanks to quality of life improvements with the shooting/combat and extrapolation of core narrative elements. It's such a fluid and coherent experience that I was left agape by how much genuine fun I was having traversing the comprehensively decorated settings and navigating the vast arenas to mark my enemies. While it doesn't pack the punch of Last of Us' narrative, by smoothness of execution this has it beat in spades despite the slight bloat in the latter half. Structurally, this is Naughty Dog's most ambitious work thus far (when this was written in 6/3 at least). Borrowing from Last of Us' novelistic approach, the first half of this weaves in flashbacks and stuffs an immense amount of information within the first several hours that leaves the player's head spinning by how quickly it progresses without skipping a beat. Once it slows down leading into the second half in Libertalia, we are presented with some of the finest character work Naughty Dog has done with the near crumbling and renewal of Nathan and Elena's marriage, acting as the true climax to the story.

This section is nuanced in how it employs a hushed sentimentality in lieu of outright melodrama and it's bold to see the throes of domesticity being engaged with so explicitly. This is a game less so about the ramifications of violence (which is ideally where I'd wanted the series to mature but LOU has us covered there) than it is about a mid-life crisis on candy coated adrenaline. Ditching the supernatural elements of the previous games, this entry follows an innate obsession with capturing glory as a means of validating existence and the subsequent thrills of "adventure" in all its forms that arise from that yearning. Following Last of Us' acclaim, some of this also feels like a meta commentary on "good fortune" and attaining humility in the midst of resplendent yet dilapidated splendor (exploring Libertalia in particular). Its thematic value is based in Nathan's relationships with others and how his actions and lack of honest communication potentially jeopardize these binding ties. The stakes are entirely emotional and surpass any idea of "death" that the franchise can conjure up at this point. Throughout the series Nathan's allies have been concerned for his mental well being and not Nate himself, who continued his adventuring without any thought to the possible harmful outcome.

Here, his brother Sam is an outright enabler of his shitty habits and Sully/Elena are subsequently exhausted by these antics by this point. Everybody here is just tired and the game suggests that the boisterous cartoons of yesterday have run their course and must be buried for good. The subjects are now drawn to the pull of reality and feel the sting of mortality with every push forward. While it's valuable to see Naughty Dog finally take the time to deeply explore any semblance of themes in these games, it doesn't get quite as complicated and messy as I'd hope; specially since it deals with the consequences of emotional duress. The exploration of these ideas is as broad as they come but it's okay. For what it is, a tour-de-force blockbuster epic that adopts that term to its fullest capacity, it intensely satisfied me and assisted in helping me escape from the reality of the turbulent world we live in now. At least for the 15 hours it took to complete its sweeping campaign. Despite my disappointment with the previous entries and my hesitance in approaching this, that's all I could ask for.

For as lush and often striking as its imagery is, can’t help but feel this is as thematically empty and hollow in its horror as I remembered it being. Whatever’s not a lame and cynical jump scare cribs directly off of better and more nuanced horror games (PT for obvious reference). Starts off promisingly enough with its slow build and atmospheric mansion setting but falls apart as soon you realize that the thin gameplay loop consists of enter room-an object flies to wall-painting dissolves-loud noise. It is that tedious cycle rinse and repeat for three and half hours leading to its dreadfully paced finale and Bloober Team's lacking direction in creating tension in any tangible manner kills any sense of fear or anxiety the game is meant to produce. On top of that the "Inheritance" DLC grossly screws over any kind of thematic resonance this is meant to have as it doubles down on the base game's "tortured artists are people too despite being abusive, gaslighting, narcissistic assholes :)". It's an occasionally gorgeous mess of a game with nothing of value to say or add to the medium. Its merits are entirely fabricated and that fact unsettled me more than any of the grotesque visuals or cringe-worthy voice acting ever could.

A tedious Greatest Hits collection of Batman villains and shallow mythology encased in an impressive tech showcase. Without inherent context there is no poignancy so as a result the plot progression is hollow, mostly existing to pander to focus-tested players and comic book fans. For all of its issues at least Asylum was efficient gameplay wise (combat here remains stiff) and had a focused narrative. For not having a lengthy campaign it still took me weeks to power through this due to the bland mission design and how inconsequential the plot felt. The open world here may be refreshingly succinct compared to what we get nowadays but it's nonetheless crammed with the endless noise of radio chatter, objective markers, and menial clutter to get distracted with. It's an overbearing mother of a game that never learns to shut up and allow the player to soak in the visually rich atmosphere without having to scream it in our face and hold our hand in every which way. As much as I despise the term "style over substance" I feel as though I can can truthfully apply it here. It's a massively ambitious AAA title for its time but most of that ambition derives from surface level attributes that feel as thin as the ice that Batman treads on. Something that ultimately skirts on sheer mediocrity.

The little (big) engine that could. It's been said but it bears repeating; this game eats the Call of Duty formula, chews its up, and spits out what that entire franchise could only dream of being. What Respawn does here is insane because it is aware of the surface level comparisons that would inevitably be made and actively subverts every one of the typical tropes found in those games- the corny camaraderie and cringe-worthy banter, the swelling booms and sweeping heroism of the soundtrack, the banal linearity of the level design and bacon crisp gunplay. It's all here sure, but Respawn injects gorgeous attention to detail into the visual atmosphere, boundless creativity in each and every level of its five-six hour campaign, propulsive pacing that pushes this roller-coaster narrative, brutally diverse mech combat, and most importantly, a warm earnestness that permeates every facet of its creation. The game balances a serene and almost ethereal natural landscape with a heavily industrial aesthetic that wouldn't be far off from a James Cameron film. And such as the likes of Aliens and Judgement Day, Titanfall II is as much a story about surfacing imperialist forces weaponizing extraterrestrial technology for further bloodshed as it is a tale of ardent brotherhood; no matter how artificial the links between them are. The first half introduces a couple outlandish gameplay mechanics and gimmicks that keeps things consistently fresh as the relationship between BT and Cooper builds but it's the barreling second half where the weight of cosmic stakes take both literal and metaphorical flight. Cumulatively, it never skips a beat and is just constantly satisfying. It remains silly enough to have fun and not take it too seriously but I won't lie when I say some parts gave me flutters in my heart from the utter immensity of the spectacle (shit looks amazing for 2016 and runs like a dream) and the handling of the dynamic between the two protagonists. For something that was so prone to failure at launch, I was pleasantly surprised by how much returning to this bolstered my previous playthrough and will probably continue to stand the test of time from here on out. Simply put, the apex of blockbuster gaming.

The most cynical cartoon. For a game so brisk it feels like an eternity to get through. After the promising first hour, introducing the iconic trio of characters with charming banter, the game devolves into an endless barrage of enemy spawns, poorly designed arenas, and clunky gunplay with little respite. The game's attempts of being self-aware about these shortcomings with Nathan's quips come off as flaccid and cowardly. It's in the "platforming" sequences where the game shines the most but even then the intense linearity makes these moments bland and uninspired. Enemy design is lazy at best and vaguely racist at worst. For as lavish as its presentation is, I'm baffled by most the decisions made by the developers here. I can only hope its successors hold up as well as I remembered.

Innovative but also toothless as it relies on smug meta-commentary to get across its theme of the malleability of bodies in the video game medium. Something that is bound to date itself real quick as this angle is one of the most overplayed ideas in games. Its central gimmick becomes tired by game's end BUT makes for some really effective moments of genuinely badass excitement. Cannot deny its a very well crafted experience with an eye for acute visual detail and sound design. The best kind of minimalism, as it strips down FPS tropes down to its minute essence. Can't say I loved it but I admire what it does and I see great things for the studio with whatever they have coming next.