37 Reviews liked by saccharin


"Why Henry? *sniffle* Why are you rating this? Its a bunch of mazes you beat in a single 35 minute sitting! You might as well rate the Saturday morning sudoko in the local newspaper as well! Waaah waaah."

Shut up twerp. My grandfather served in the second world war. Every day my grandmother didn't know if he'd come home. But once a month she'd receive a letter from the front lines confirming his survival. "Sarge gave me the Newspaper for this week, cross word was a bit shit this time, 3/5." I am honouring a multi generational legacy with this rating. I am literally fighting a war on backloggd.com right now. What are you doing? Playing Final Fantasy 7-2.67? How about you get a grip before you tell me how to run MY account.

Thinking about this game, the discourse around it, the developers, the streamers, the players, the supporters, gives me spiritual depression

What am I doing with my life? All this time spent ironically praising shitty games including this one and now people are unironically gassing up generic survival crafting game number 74,963. That settles it, from now on the words “peak fiction” will never leave my mouth ever again!

Oh. That's crack. That's cocaine crack drugs on the Steam top sellers list.

not morally egregious per se but rather a depressing culmination of a decade's worth of design trickery and (d)evolving cultural/social tastes and otherwise exists as insipid twitchcore autoplaying bullshit that should come with a contractual agreement binding its devotees to never speak prejudicially about mobile games or musou ever again lest they face legally enforced financial restitution. just play nex machina man. or watch NFL. been a fun season for that. fuck the review man let's talk sports in the comments

Prey

2017

A spectacular smorgasbord of setting that fuses more or less everything that's great about the science-fiction genre into a single cohesive and highly-interactive experience, taking pages from Alien, The Thing, The Matrix and everything in between, elevating them gracefully with pop-phil touches of Thomas Kuhn and dynamic lighting effects. I'd go so far as to suggest Prey is one of gaming's most well-realised worlds ever, with Arkane leveraging their Zenimax-Bethesda business relationship in creative-personal-inspirational ways that aren’t just related to the budget and resources their parent company provided - some of the email terminals contain such ruthlessly well-observed treatise on corporate engineering that I have a sneaking suspicion someone may have just find-replaced some exchanges from Arkane's own SMTP server. Seem like the level designers had a real knack for finding horror in conference rooms, employee lounges and HR tribunals.

Engagement with the environment is Prey’s greatest strength. By forcing you to crawl around on your hands like a fucking dog and stick your head into trashcans in the hopes of scrounging up some used cigars and banana peels, the game encourages you to take a close look at everything around you. Every discarded dossier and email chain is a potential piece of practical benefit, which often results in you combing archived arguments between the deceased cafeteria staff RE: Tuesday’s lunch special for mentions of a door code or safe combination - classic imsim fare, but wrapped in mundane-yet-engaging writing that definitively proves that audio logs, post-it notes and graffiti are effective storytelling techniques - it’s just that most games have used them to tell terrible stories.

The killer flaw here is the combat, which serves more as an unpleasant obstacle between you and more digestion of setting than a creative exercise that’s in keeping with the game’s otherwise giddy open-endedness. Fighting the typhon is clumsy, brutal and stupid - and while it’s perhaps an intentional realisation of the game's classic "you saved the galaxy with repair tools?!" design ideology, it harkens too closely to the stiff awkwardness of taking on headcrabs with a crowbar in Half-Life or those moments in Deux Ex where you and a FEMA agent trade stun-gun blows for five minutes until one of your inventories runs out of potato chips. It’s regressive RPG-shooter gameplay (complete with number pop-ups) that ultimately can’t find its place within an otherwise highly-finessed immersion tank. The game offers you ample chance to blow fiery holes in gas pipes and transform into toilet roll for a surprise attack on unwitting plumbing droids, but these moments of brilliance invariably descend into rigid battle-exchanges between you and the AI; blind stat-crunching that never makes you feel as clever as the environmental puzzle-solving does. Excise the guns completely (apart from the wonderful glue cannon, of course) and I honestly think you might have a better game -  the only bullets I took satisfaction in firing were the foam-tipped crossbow bolts that I could use to sneakily activate touchscreens from across a room.

At its best, Prey is a game of corporate archaeology - investigate the sterile halls of an isolated institution and work out why only ghosts roam its corridors now. You can only hide in the shadows for so long , though, before you’re faced with the ugly consequences of industrial actions - both yours and theirs. But don’t worry! Even this nuanced near-missterpiece offers you the opportunity to stand in front of a machine and choose between switches marked “KILL” and “SAVE”. Would you kindly check it out, please? Because I need a Prey 2 to come in and patch up the broken joints in this brilliant mechanical simulation.

Seven years after my initial playthrough and a few years since my previous replay, which was formerly a twice annual occurrence for me, Half-Life 2 remains one of the best sequels and one of the absolute coolest games I've ever experienced. I suppose I got a bit burnt out after a number of replays in the span just a few years, but despite having this game committed mostly to memory, I was so captivated this time around that it felt as though I was experiencing it for the first time again.

Although the manner in which the original Half-Life was built around the uninterrupted perspective of an ordinary scientist navigating a single disaster-stricken facility stands out when compared to the structure of its sequel, Half-Life 2 is simply more refined in every way. Games that make a point of flaunting their technical prowess tend not to age gracefully, but this game's decision to wear the newfound power of the Source Engine on its sleeve is an essential part of its identity that sets it apart from its predecessor's brand of naturalism. The art direction has held up wonderfully - although the outskirts of the nonspecific eastern European setting are a bit barren, the scale of the environments draws attention away from the lacking texture detail, and the contrast of the Combine architecture and technology effectively communicates the extent to which they've conquered the Earth and the desolation of the citizens who live under their rule. Perhaps the most defining feature of Half-Life 2 is its emphasis on physics, the design decision that posed by far the biggest risk to the game's longevity. Puzzles such as one that showcases the physics engine's capability to emulate a makeshift seesaw are more of a flex than they are clever game design, but I find them charming in a way that most boundary-pushing games from this point onwards aren't, and the abundance of interactive props and objects is something that I've seldom seen in other titles, giving it a distinctly immersive touch. The Gravity Gun epitomizes this physics-based gameplay, allowing you to literally weaponize your surroundings in a manner that remains somewhat novel to this day. The other combat maneuvers it enables, such as picking up a Combine-thrown grenade and hurling it back at them, never lose their luster.

In addition to its cutting-edge visuals standing the test of time, Half-Life 2 arguably excels even further in the sound department. The voice performances remain some of the best in the medium to date, doing wonders to endear me to cast of characters that wouldn't be particularly memorable otherwise. Robert Culp does an especially great job as Breen, a spineless puppet of an antagonist who leaves far more of an impression than a dictator one might expect from the setting would have. Kelly Bailey's sparingly-used soundtrack consisting of unsettling ambience to establish the atmosphere and pulse-pounding techno to complement the most thrilling fights is even stronger than before - nearly every appearance of music throughout the game is a highlight. The sound design might just be my favorite of any video game - from the anguished cries of the zombies to the ear-piercing whirs and scratching of the Manhacks to the flattening lifelines of the Metrocops, the soundscape is ingrained into my memory and breathes so much more life into an already distinct aesthetic.

The first two thirds of Half-Life 2 are a near-perfect experience, featuring striking environmental storytelling, an engrossing atmosphere, and consistently creative encounter design delivered at a pace that had me completely enamored. Insertion Point is nearly unmatched in its effectiveness at introducing its setting; We Don't Go to Ravenholm is an unforgettable shift to survival horror that maintains everything that makes the game work in a vastly different setting; Highway 17 takes the formula of the previous game's infamous On a Rail and executes it with finesse; every chapter has something exciting to bring to the table. Not even the occasional mechanical shortcomings such as the perplexing inaccuracy of the pistol could hinder my enjoyment, and the occasional frustration I've been met with in previous runs in chapters such as Water Hazard was nowhere to be found this time around. Unfortunately, like its predecessor, Half-Life 2 abandons some it strongest design principles in the final act, although in more subtle ways than before. The sudden shift to radically different circumstances starts off a lot more exciting - Anticitizen One is a tightly design series of setpieces that, while rendering the Gravity Gun more situational than it had been, is still really damn fun. Follow Freeman, however, is too long for its own good and is more rigid with its encounter design. Nothing but its high stakes can justify the presence of half-baked squad mechanics, lots of narrow hallways, an all but explicit insistence on making heavy use of the shotgun and pulse rifle (which are perhaps too universally useful compared to the rest of Gordon's arsenal), and a volume of obnoxiously resilient Striders that makes save scumming downright necessary on the highest difficulty. I'm making all of this sound worse than it is in execution, but it's nonetheless a noticeable step down from the amazing chapters that precede it. Our Benefactors and Dark Energy serve as a gimmicky finale, but the gimmick in question is an absolute blast, and the one sequence of the game in which you're robbed of full control is one of its most memorable.

Overall, this replay is probably the most fun I've ever had with Half-Life 2. It's not entirely free of missteps, but I can't overstate just how great it is for the vast majority of its duration. It's an absolute must play for shooter fans, and well deserving of its reputation as one of the all time greats.

A shame. The sleekness of DOOM (2016) is nowhere to be found—it’s been replaced with ugly garishness in nearly every facet of Eternal’s design.

The chonky combat remains, with gun-feel and glory kill animations improved considerably—and the music is still great!—but that’s where the positives end. The game is pumped absolutely chock-full with annoying, difficult-to-internalize mechanics, overwrought platforming puzzles (the effortless platforming in 2016 is so much better!), and a stupid, hamfisted story and atmosphere.

The appeal of DOOM (2016) had a lot to do with the interplay of self-serious elements and campy ones. It was like watching a B-movie that believed, wholeheartedly, in its own awesomeness. Eternal just plops face-first into campy mud, goofifying everything and winking at the player incessantly, sapping the game of any actual coolness. Those moments of quiet viscerality from the first game are half-assed or just completely non-existent.

Id has cranked the difficulty up, both in terms of enemy aggressiveness and, just, the sheer amount of bullshit you have to learn and remember. Oh I can grapple and blood punch and flame belch and chainsaw and double dash and ice grenade OR regular grenade, in addition to shooting my weapons with hot-swappable mods? Cool! Is it any fun to juggle it all, really? No, it isn’t!

I came back to Eternal thinking I’d been too hard on it, and found just the opposite— I like it even less now. It infuriatingly squanders the potential of its fantastic predecessor, going decidedly for content quantity over quality, and losing almost everything that made the latter feel special. While it’s not terrible in its own right, I consider it one of my personal biggest disappointments of the modern gaming era.

If MGR had good gameplay it would be the coolest game ever made

In the anime series Yu Yu Hakusho, there is an object called the Chapter Black which showcases all of humanity's misdeeds and is depicted as so horrifying that it causes anyone who watches it to show nothing but utter contempt for humanity.
The real world equivalent is a multiplayer game of New Super Mario Bros. Wii.

The one thing I never expected an Obsidian game to be was terminally uninteresting but that's exactly what The Outer Worlds is. A collection of shallow systems, characters, and quests that sort of affect the illusion of a proper RPG with depth and consequence but in reality offers nothing of the sort.

The almost cartoonish lack of depth in the gameplay is mirrored in the story, which is a smarmy and infuriatingly smug monument to Enlightened Centrism that wraps itself in a veneer of anti-capitalist rhetoric so thin that it would struggle to appear meaningfully leftist even to someone who gets all their political opinions from Breadtube. Faux-empathetic South Park politics for the Rick and Morty generation, where picking an actual side is always fucking stupid and you should always strive for a meaningless compromise in order to preserve the status quo.

Genuinely astonishing that this came from the same studio that released Pillars 2 just prior, a game that, for all it's issues, actually had the guts to grab you by the neck and tell you to pick a fucking side, to get some god damn ideology, and actually let you meaningfully change the broken world it presented. That game was the real New Vegas 2 you've all been clamouring for, but no one bought it, so I guess we're stuck with this.

Nothing else to really say because there's basically nothing else in here. An utterly empty and vacuous game that doesn't even manage to surpass Fallout 4. A snake oil salesman promising you a miracle solution to bring back the Fallout you remember, but get past the fancy logo and uncork that bottle, and you'll find nothing in there but dust and echoes.

This review contains spoilers

CW: this one is...it's maybe NSFW in the same way that you wouldn't play some Bayonetta in the same room as your parents, if you catch my drift.

ben esposito, director of neon white, has claimed that that game was made "by freaks, for freaks", which got me thinking. what does such a game look like? what does a true game that flies it's freak flag high wear before it begins to peel it off, teasing all around it just enough to excite them before baring it's full naked form for an audience it knows will bark and howl for it? bayonetta. obviously.

such blood has been spilt over one question, rephrased and relitigated countless times: is bayonetta exploitative or empowering? feminist or objectivist? I'm here to tell you that the answer to these questions is Yes. bayonetta is a character designed by a woman under the direction of a man who wanted his dream woman brought to life. bayonetta is an all-powerful dominant force rarely not in complete control of the situation, that dances and parades herself for the male gaze as well as her own amusement. spank material for straight cis teenage boys and the most delightfully camp For The Gays drag show energy in the world, and earnest transition goals for transfems. bayonetta is all these things at once. the perceptions of bayonetta and what she is and does tangle up in themselves in a mess under the covers: sex, and by extension erotica, is inherently messy and you aren't going to get the clear-cut answers you want by demanding obsequious deference: you're in mommy's house now. be good, and maybe she'll give you what you want.

kinesthetic erotica to boil your blood and make the hairs on your neck stand on end like almost nothing else in the world. the thousand tiny moments of ever-building tension until it explodes into relief that the wicked weave system creates will never fail to make me shiver with delight, a bed of deep satisfaction that makes it so easy to excuse all the awkward fumbling when it reaches out of its comfort zone. it's an intoxicating (s)witch, one that's open to anything you can imagine and more besides. turn the difficulty down and you can effortlessly style on heaven's soldiers as the dominatrix supervillain of your wildest fantasies, or turn the difficulty up and have the game break you over its knee and make you beg for more, whilst still consenting to your learning how to turn the tables and show paradiso what a real witch can do.

many games are very bad at being convincingly erotic for a wide variety of reasons, whether out of the depressing commercialism of it all, the narrow audience of straight cis teenage boys most big games are aiming for, or just for taking themselves far too seriously. bayonetta succeeds because it puts such immense effort and care into fooling around, into not only its ludicrous high camp world and story, but also in the act of playing it, and enticing you to engage with it on terms both you and it consent to. dom or sub, any, all, or none of the toys of it's bedside table, in cutscenes and in play, bayonetta has one goal that overrides all others: to bring you to it's infinite climaxes, over and over again.there are many many tiny irrations and dissatisfactions with bayonetta that crawl into my mind once i'm hit with the clarity of the afterglow, but once i'm in there, it's hard to think about them, it's hard to think about anything else, other the game's intoxicating invitations push harder and faster against your limits and its, until either you or it or both of you can't take anymore, until...

...until we are all satisfied.

This review contains spoilers

"You have died, and the Nexus has trapped your soul."

"You cannot escape the Nexus."

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CW: Brief discussion on the game's use of rape

In Elden Ring, you can never discover anything once. That was the thought that entered my head early in the experience and never quite left it. One of the most evocative parts of the game's genuinely stunning art direction is the walking cathedral, a strange and arresting colossus that stumbles across the Weeping Peninsula, each step ringing the bell that hangs beneath its torso. It was a sight of strange, beautiful magic, the kind of which these games have been good at in the past.

Except, to describe this creature in the singular would be inaccurate. Because Walking Cathedrals appear all over the world of Elden Ring, each one identical in appearance, each one performing an identical, express mechanical function for the player. This cannot be left alone as a strange, unique beast, it has to be reduced to a Type of Content a player can engage with over and over again for a characterless transaction of pure mechanics. It is the excitement of coming across something esoteric that the Souls games have made a core part of their identity, utterly commodified and made into the exact same arc that applied to Assassin's Creed the moment climbing a tower to survey the environment and taking a leap of faith into a haystack below shifted from an exciting and evocative moment into a rote and tiresome mechanical interaction.

Because, that's right everyone, Dark Souls Is Now Open World. Not an open world in the same way that Demon's Souls, Dark Souls, or Dark Souls II were, where you could freely venture down different paths to different bosses and take things in an order outside of the game's expected leveling curve. No, this is an Open World as we understand it today: an enormous ocean of discrete repeated Activities dotted with islands of meaningful bespoke design. There's plenty of stuff to do in this world, but it's all of a specific type - in a catacomb you will navigate stone gargoyles and chalice dungeon designs to a lever that will open a door near the entrance that will contain a boss that you've likely found elsewhere in the world, and will be filled with stone gargoyles. Mines will be filled with mining rock-people and upgrade materials. Towers will have you find three spectral creatures around them in order to open them up and obtain a new Memory Slot. Camps will contain a patrolling enemy type and some loot. Even genuinely enchanting vistas and environments get their space to be repeated in slight variations. Boss battles too will be repeated endlessly, time and time again, with delightful designs like the Watchdog tragically becoming something I sighed and was annoyed to see crop up half-a-dozen times over the course of the adventure, and I was truly, deeply annoyed at fighting no less than about ten or twelve Erdtree Avatars and Dragons, with whom the moves never change and the fight plays out the exact same way every single time.

The first time I discovered these things, I was surprised, delighted even, but by even the second time, the truth that these are copied-and-pasted across the entirety of the Lands Between in order to pad it out became readily apparent, and eventually worn away even the enthusiasm of that first encounter. When I look back on my genuine enjoyment of the first battle with the Erdtree Avatar, I can only feel like an idiot for not realizing that this fight would be repeated verbatim over and over and become less fun every single time. When you've seen one, you've really seen all of them, and this means that by the time you leave Limgrave, you've already seen everything the Open World has to offer.

This is, of course, to be expected. Open world games simply have to do this. They are an enormous effort to bring into life, and the realities of game production mean that unless you're willing to spend decades on one game, you're going to have to be thrifty with how you produce content. I expect this, I understand this. Fallout: New Vegas is probably my favorite Open World game, but its world is also filled with this template design. But what's to be gained from this in a Dark Souls game? Unlike contemporaries like Breath of the Wild, your verbs of interaction in these games are frighteningly limited, with almost all of the experience boiling down to fighting enemies, and without a variety of interactions, the lack of variety in the huge amounts of content stands out all the more. Does fighting the same boss over and over and traversing the same cave over and over make Souls better? Even if you choose to just ignore all of these parts of the Open World (which is far easier said than done, as due to a very harsh leveling curve and the scarcity of crucial weapon upgrade materials outside of The Mines, the game's design absolutely pushes towards you engaging in these repetitious activities), the Legacy Dungeons that comprise the game's bespoke content are functionally completely separate from the Open World, with not even your Horse permitted to enter. This is no Burnout: Paradise or Xenoblade Chronicles X, which retooled the core gameplay loop to one where the open world was absolutely core to the design: this is a series of middling Dark Souls levels scattered among an open world no different from games like Far Cry or Horizon: Zero Dawn that many Souls fans have historically looked down on, and the game is only worse for it.

NPC storylines in particular suffer massively, as the chances of you stumbling upon these characters, already often quite annoying in past games, are so low as to practically require a wiki if you want to see the end of multiple questlines. However, that assumes that you will want to see the end of these stories and that you are invested in this world, and I decidedly Was Not. Souls games have always had suspect things in them that have gone largely uninterrogated but Elden Ring really brings that ugliness to the surface, with rape being an annoyingly present aspect of the backstories of many characters, and even having multiple characters threaten to rape you, none of which is deployed in a way that is meaningful and is just insufferable edgelord fantasy writing, and the same could be said of the grimdark incest-laden backstory, the deeply suspect trans panic writing surrounding one of the characters, and the enthusiastic use of Fantasy Racism tropes in the form of the Demi-Humans. I remain convinced that George RR Martin's involvement in this game was little more than a cynical publicity stunt, but certainly the game's writing indulges in many of that man's worst excesses, whilst having almost none of his strengths.

None of this is to say that Elden Ring is devoid of enjoyment. While the fact that it did hit just in time for a manic-depressive mood that made me perfectly suited to play a game I could just mindlessly play for a couple of weeks, I did see it through to the end in that time, even if I did rush to the end after a certain point. From Software's artists remain some of the best in the industry, with some incredible environments and boss designs that deserve Olympic gold medals for how much heavy-lifting they're doing to keep the experience afloat. I loved being kidnapped by chests into other parts of the world, and I wish it happened more than a couple of front-loaded times. But the enjoyment I had in it never felt like stemmed from the open world, and even its highest points don't hang with the best bits of the prior installments. Stormveil is probably the level design highlight of the game but it already fades from my mind in comparison to the likes of Central Yharnam or the Undead Burg or the Dragon Shrine. Indeed, the fact that they exist as islands in an ocean of vacuous space between them precludes the so-called "Legacy Dungeons" of this game from having the satisfying loops and interconnections that are often the design highlights of prior entries. The bosses are a seriously uneven mixed bag as well; even setting aside the repetition, as the nasty trend of overturned bosses that started in Dark Souls III rears its unfortunate head again. The superboss Melania is an interesting design utterly ruined by her obscene damage output, and my personal highlight of the game, Starscourge Radagon, who is the only boss fight that felt like it played to the things that Elden Ring brought to the table, and is a moment among the series that the game can truly claim as it's very own...but the tuning of the fight prevented it from being the triumphant coming-together moment that it is clearly attempting for many of my friends, who left the fight feeling that it was just annoying and tedious. Modern From Software could never make a fight like Maiden Astrea again because they'd insist on making her really hard in a way that actively detracts from the emotional experience in the fight. Boss fights can be about more than just providing a challenge, and I think From has forgotten that.

Taken as a series of its legacy dungeons, of its finest moments, I think Elden Ring would only be a middling one of these games. The additions to the formula feel anemic and unbalanced, the multiplayer implementation is honestly a quite considerable step back from prior games (the decision to have the majority of invasions only occur during co-operation feels like an attempt to weed out trolls picking on weaker players but in reality what it does is make equal fights are next-to-impossible and put Seal-Clubbers in a place where they are the only players who can effectively invade, a completely baffling decision), but it's really the open world I keep coming back to as the reason this game doesn't work. Not only does it add nothing that wasn't already present in better ways in prior games, but it actively detracts from the experience. The promise of the Open World is one of discovery, of setting off in uncharted directions and finding something new, but do Open Worlds actually facilitate this any better than more linear games? I don't know if they do. I felt a sense of discovery and finding something in so many of these games, even the most linear ones, and felt it stronger because the game was able to use careful, meticulous level design to bring out those emotions. Walking out of a cave and seeing Irithyll of the Boreal Valley, or Dead Man's Wharf stretch out before me, were moments of genuine discovery, and they would not be improved if I found six more Dead Man's Wharfs throughout the game. Contrary to their promise, in my experience, the open world, rather than create a sense of discovery, undermine it due to the compromises necessary to create these worlds. All the openness does for your discoveries is let you approach them from a slightly different angle as everyone else.

That is, if you can even claim to have discovered anything in the first place. To call Elden Ring derivative of prior games in this milieu would be a gross understatement. I am far from the first person to note that the game's much-hyped worldbuilding is largely content to regurgitate Souls Tropes with the Proper Nouns replaced with much worse ones, but it goes beyond that - entire questlines, plot beats, character arcs, dungeon designs, enemies, and bosses are lifted wholesale from prior games practically verbatim. More often than not Elden Ring feels closer to a Greatest Hits album than a coherent piece in and of itself, a soulless and cynical repackaging of prior Souls Classics, irrevocably damaged by being torn from the original context from which they belonged. I'm not a fan of Dark Souls III, in part because it too is also a game that leans on repetition of prior games, but at the very least the game was about those repetitions, where yes, old areas and characters would be repeated, but at least it was thematically resonant with what the game was doing. Elden Ring can't even claim that. Whatever this shallow mess of a narrative, easily the worst of the franchise thus far by my reckoning, is going for, it is done no favors by being this stitched-together Frankenstein of Souls.

I was particularly shocked by the sheer ferocity with which the game steals from the fan-favorite Bloodborne. Quick, tell me if you've heard this one before: you encounter a hunched, bestial foe, who fights you with their fists, but once you get their health halfway down, the battle stops, a cutscene plays, where they speak coherently, summon a blade from their past, and stand with their former dignity restored, the music changes, and their name is revealed to be "X the Y Blade". Or what about a hub area, separated in its own liminal space from the rest of the map, that can be discovered in its True Form in the material world? What about when that hub area is wreathed in spectral flame and begins to burn as the final hours of the game is nigh? These are far from the only examples, as there are multiple enemies and ideas throughout the game that are shamelessly lifted from my personal favorite From Software effort, but these stand out as the most noxious of all, as they simply repeat beats that were effective in the game they originated from because the game was able to build to them and have them resonate with the rest of the experience. You cannot just graft things whole cloth from prior work onto a new one and expect it to work as a coherent piece, the very prospect is ridiculous.

When Elden Ring did all this, my jaw about hit the floor from the sheer unmitigated gall. When it chose to conclude itself with a straight-faced Moon Presence reference, complete with an arena that directly evokes the Hunter's Dream, I just had to laugh. The final statement the game made on itself, the bullet point it chose to put on the experience, was "Remember Bloodborne? That was good, wasn't it?" Because in many ways, that really was a perfect conclusion to this game.

While it would be a mistake to claim, as people seem increasingly eager to, that Souls emerged entirely out of the magical ocean that is Hidetaka Miyazaki's unparalleled genius or whatever, as these games have always drawn heavy inspiration from properties like Berserk, Book of the New Sun, and The Legend of Zelda, and were built on top of a framework clearly established by past Fromsoft series King's Field, the reason I think that myself and many others were initially enthralled by the promise of Demon's Souls or Dark Souls was because they were decidedly different. Their esoterica, willingness to buck modern design conventions and hugely evocative online elements were why these games set imaginations alight so strongly, and proved enormously influential for the past decade of game design.

Demon's Souls felt like something new. And while successive games in this series have felt far less fresh, none of them have felt as utterly exhausted as Elden Ring: a final statement from the designers and writers at From Software that they have officially Ran Out of Ideas, that the well has long gone dry, that all they can do is to hastily staple on the modern design trends they once rejected onto a formula that does not gel with them, and that they are wandering without life through a never-ending cycle of their own creation, branded by the Darksign. Perhaps it's no surprise that their least inventive, least consistent, and least creative game since Demon's Souls is also by far their most successful. Once From Software defied conventions and trends, and now, they are consumed by them.

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"You have died, and the Nexus has trapped your soul."

"You cannot escape the Nexus."

a more confident, accomplished, and nuanced use of deliberately tedious game mechanics than almost any other game yet made, that will struggle to be popularly recognized as such because it stars mickey mouse and tetsuya nomura OCs, and also because square enix have done their best to erase the actual game from existence and leave only a bad compilation movie in its place.

uses the framework of daily missions handed out by actively malicious older men exploiting the identity crises and ennui of teenagers to explore the simple but ever-present existential nightmare that is Work, the hold it has over our lives and the fact that we're just expected to Deal With It without any reason or justification, as well as the uniquely cruel violence of enforced identity society enacts on the young. all this and one of the medium's best accidental trans narratives. if this had Grasshopper Manufacture's logo on it instead of H.A.N.D we'd be neck-deep in thinkpieces every single day.

the co-op multiplayer is neat but also extremely baffling for a game that is Like This. imagine if Pathologic 2 had a separate co-op mode where the Bachelor, Harsupex, and Changeling ran through the termitary competing for a high score and that's the vibe

absolutely hates women and denies them any personhood at all but simultaneously tries to be a critique of impotent men who hate women and deny them their personhood

IT FAILS REAL BAD!!!

A real shame because some of the satoshi kon-esque psychological imagery can be fun and the puzzle gamplay is devious and interesting.

The transphobic stuff is just repulsive and sad. The fact that this game was branded as some dark and cerebral adult drama that analyzes relationship dynamics is a pathetic joke. There's less nuance here than a Two and a Half Men episode.