Definitely a lot to like especially compared to a lot of other CRPGs from the time but progression is so bizarrely obtuse at times and while still pretty forgiving the time limit is an unknown stressor that put me off the game for a good while. It took me four playthroughs to actually get a game going because frankly I didn't know what the game wanted from me and with how much time exploring takes I felt like I didn't have time to figure it out.

It feels very low budget at points despite an assumedly expensive (somewhat) star studded cast rounding out most of the voice acted characters. Important characters or objects often times don't have unique sprites and sometimes don't even have unique descriptions to signify to interact with them. Definitely a "click on everything" game, which gets pretty grating when most of what you get is repeated flavor text and empty containers. The rope on a random bookshelf (which has incorrect interaction collision in some places) in a random corner of shady sands being the difference between basic progression at the start of the game or a few days off your timer is just one example of how much you'll need a guide here.

There are a lot of compelling and fun characters but the story gets lost and sort of meanders by the time you get the water chip and go to LA. Theres a couple good town quests and dungeons to be found but it's very limiting, which works for the tone but combined with how little a lot of the fun and interesting characters have to say it all feels a bit rushed. There are multiple quests referenced or mentioned that are straight up not in the game or entirely unfinished, and finding the final boss ultimately comes down to a crapshoot bumming around a random location given to you by the worst follower in the game. Some endings are either entirely impossible or determined by seemingly random factors.

The soundscape is pretty dull, the droning ambience and whispers are good for some areas but get grating as they repeat. I don't mind the repetetive attack sounds but at some point I gave one of my followers a deagle or something that is so loud it manually lowered other sounds on my computer every time he fired???

Combat is infamously bullshit at some points but often times way way funnier than later entries. The brutal and well animated death animations combined with your followers accidentally doming you in the back of the head every 5 seconds paint this sort of bizarre portrait of chaotic gunfight that none of the games really capture afterwards. The animation in both the actual game and the cutscenes is generally very detailed and impressive for the time. Bosses have insanely brutal death animations and characters accurately display dismemberment based on what direction of a blast they were hit by, though there was one part where dogmeat turned into a man because he didnt have an animation for being killed by flames.

TLDR play with a guide if you want to have any fun, just watch some hack talk about the lore on youtube otherwise

By the time you roll the credits on Battle Network 6, it’s evident that the series has reached its conclusion. Previous games have always left the player on a triumphant note: having defeated the latest world-threatening evil, Lan and his friends celebrate, secure in the knowledge that, should such another menace disrupt their beatific adolescence (as they so often do), Lan and Mega Man will rise to the occasion and thwart their schemes again—and in the process, work up a much-deserved appetite while frantically forgetting his homework, as ever. But Battle Network 6 ends a bit differently. In addition to the routine celebration we get a scene of all the characters looking towards their future, finally having graduated from elementary school and considering where they’d like to be in twenty years. It would seem that development did not begin with this intent of denouement in mind, but regardless, a conclusion for the series was always inevitable, and the provided closure for the characters is appreciated, but insubstantial. The bittersweet feeling you’re left with is more the result of a want of a proper conclusion, the hollow sentimentality lingering in your chest as you ponder how impactful such a culmination should feel after six consecutive entries. The hastily constructed epilogue is in part to blame, providing details of the characters’ futures without actually giving us the satisfaction of seeing these ambitions come to fruition, but the relative disappointment of this final entry derives more from the totality of the experience leading up to this lackluster finale. While it never feels like a bad game during its duration, and certainly greater than the series’ nominal low points, the experience nonetheless fails to conjure the same spirit and personality which has propelled the franchise up to this regrettable end.

Conversely, one could argue that this is the pinnacle of the franchise, from a gameplay perspective at the very least. With five entries preceding it, refining and expanding the various mechanics of the series, would that not be the logical result? But for all this provides, the inclusion of all these features often lacks cohesion, resulting in a series of systems which theoretically synergize together, but in practice often render one another moot in the vast majority of situations. The primary example is the titular new draw: the Cybeasts. The story this time centers around these near-mythical titans of the net, uncontrollable behemoths sealed away during the early era of the age, yet conveniently never mentioned before despite establishing a link to a similar beast from a prior title. In order to prevent their rampage, Mega Man must absorb one into his body (somehow), and thus take on its attributes in combat. This new transformation gimmick exists alongside the preserved transformation gimmicks of the previous games, refined and rebranded as the Cross System. These two mechanics can operate in tandem to give Mega Man’s Beast Mode the elemental effects of the respective Navis of the Cross System. The increased power level and flexibility these powers supply can be rewarding, but the flash and spectacle that accompany them more often disrupt the flow of combat and delay the completion of most encounters. On top of that, the two systems contradict one another when it comes to deckbuilding, as the various Cross Navis encourage you to include corresponding elemental chips to multiply their damage, while the Cybeast’s power demands non-elemental chips to unlock its full potential. And while this theoretically should reward a diverse composition of varied chip types, the Beast Mode’s powers trump that of the elemental Navis even when combined together. Although this newest mechanic initially appears exciting, evolutionary, and engaging, it proves to be quite unnecessary, and even tedious, in most situations in the game, and even ends up clashing with the retained transformation system of the previous games.

But perhaps this underwhelming combination of ideas has more to do with a lack of thematic cohesion rather than their mechanical failings, as in spite of their nominal flaws, both the Beast Mode and Cross Systems do present situationally rewarding gameplay. The draw of these colossal titans is ostensibly the spectacle of their gargantuan nature, but despite a relatively convincing backstory, their presence feels incongruous to the aesthetic and environment of the cyber world rendered so far. Thus, it necessitates a complete change in setting for the story, a completely new destination for the series, comprised of largely uninspired locales with often bizarre theming that threatens the fragile credulity of this already fanciful series. The biggest culprit here comes in the game’s fourth scenario, the second new overworld destination you can travel to about halfway through the game. Revisiting a concept from the series’ third entry, the centerpiece of this area is a cybernetically-enhanced tree, only instead of operating as the central computer of a hospital, its function is to pass judgements as an artificial intelligence programmed to hand down the most perfect verdicts as an unbiased arbiter of justice. The Judge Tree, as it’s called, operates as the nucleus of this order-obsessed town, combining together principles of legalism and environmentalist imagery to create an Orwellian vision of a technologically-incorporated justice system. All this is just a bit too heady for a series like this, even before it’s revealed that the Judge Tree is the product of one of the prosecutors who still actively participates in trials alongside the program he invented to hand down verdicts. The game clearly has no interest in the drastic moral questions all this brings to mind, as it’s solely designed as a smokescreen for an unsurprising villain reveal partway through the scenario. Still, the philosophical implications linger for anyone aware enough to ponder, and the quandaries they present are uncomfortably discordant to the straightforward dichotomy of conflict the series has always committed to.

The other areas of the game suffer from the inverse of this contrivance: overly simplistic design and theming. In addition to Green Town, the Sea and Sky themed areas offer little more than their names imply, seemingly serving only a single function for the entire city, consisting of an aquarium and weather center respectively. These kinds of singular identities for a destination aren’t necessarily unknown to prior entries, but by the sixth game in the series you’d expect things to improve, or at least resemble some of the more distinct and memorable examples of the past. Battle Network 6’s locales just feel so bland, so by-the-numbers. They lack the signature personality which propel the previous titles, hampered further by the distinctly uninspired villains and Navis who terrorize these places. The first two scenarios don’t exhibit this issue nearly as much as later chapters, as both Blastman and Diveman sport memorable character designs and fairly benign dungeon scenarios which, at the very least, remain in line with the straightforward and contained design of previous entries. It’s towards the latter half of the game things get tedious, especially when the main antagonist is initially revealed to be a former friend of the franchise. You go the whole game expecting, or at the very least hoping, that there will be some sort of satisfying explanation for this sudden motivational reversal. Their characterization up to the climax feels sloppy and inconsistent from what was established before, and you think maybe there could still be some magical explanation that’ll put all the pieces into place when you get to the end. But the shoddy writing is exactly that, and the explanation you’re given is just some contrived backstory that doesn’t gel at all with how this character was previously presented, and it’s clear that the story was only taken in this direction to create some forced dramatic conflict. It’s perhaps the biggest disappointment of the entire game, which itself was struggling to deliver the same level of flavorful presentation of prior games thanks to the muddled execution of everything from its narrative to its overwrought battle mechanics.

But it’s not all bad, and in fact, Battle Network 6 excels in areas many might find redeeming enough to more or less forgive the procession of poorly-considered narrative conceits. For one thing, the chip variety and code synergy between chips has never been better. Even from very early on in the game, you have a host of options in terms of how you want to build your folder, with a plethora of viable codes that allow you to combo chips together quite easily. On top of that, a new feature is introduced to make Program Advances far more reliable in combat, tagging together two of the three needed chips for an Advance so that they always show up on the Custom Screen together. Combined with the already handy Regular Chip feature, you’re practically guaranteed to get a Program Advance almost every battle. Many of your early chips this time also exhibit a significant power increase over prior entries, further assisting in trivializing the game’s transformation mechanics by allowing you to end most battles instantaneously with the right draw. The Battle System as a whole remains a paragon for the series, retaining all the beneficial features and mechanics developed over the last five games while continuing to find new ways to tweak certain elements to keep combat engaging and rewarding. Once again they expand on features introduced in the prior entry, allowing you to take control of ally Navis and learn to battle with their unique properties. While the Liberation Missions they were contained to in 5 were not carried over, you can now utilize them across the whole of the net, with the only restriction being that you need to start off from a specific area each time you enter. This limitation is actually a lot more discouraging than you might think, and it makes wanting to use each Navi to clear specific hazards across the net something of a chore, but it’s nice still that they found a means of retaining this fun feature in a way that still demands situational application.

Speaking of returning features, Battle Network 6 finally brings back side quests via the Request BBS, a much-beloved feature absent from the last two games. Side quests are an important mainstay of RPGs, as they can assist in the world-building and reward systems of a game while also helping to break up the pacing of a very direct and unceasing narrative. They do impose some odd limitations on it unfortunately, creating scenarios in which you’re able to accept certain jobs before you even have access to the area you’re meant to accomplish it in. And as with the previous games that featured this system, you can’t unaccept a job after you’ve committed to one, so you can end up unintentionally locking yourself out of completing jobs for a while. It’s slightly annoying that the jobs system still has some kinks, but ultimately I’m just glad to see it back after getting axed from the previous two titles. That’s about it, though, for truly positive praise of the game. Sure, there’s still an abundance of cromulent features rounding out the experience, but those are largely returning mechanics with little to no additional refinement from the last game. Smaller changes which might otherwise go unremarked are appreciated, such as an indication of an upcoming boss fight allowing players to recognize where they should save before starting a cutscene, but tiny refinements such as these hardly make a game, and ultimately pale in comparison to a lot of the game’s more unwieldy decisions.

I feel like a lot of the bitterness here stems from the fact that Battle Network 6 marks the end of the series. The most prominent qualms reside in the game’s poor characterization, rushed conclusion, and generally awkward theming, with the gameplay being more or less sound—no better or worse than in any other title, at least. But because it’s the end, and because things seem to fade out on a whimper, the dissatisfaction of the experience compounds, leading to that lingering sense of disappointment. While writing has never been a strong suit of the series, the personality imbued into the world through the story’s characters and perils has always been its lifeblood. Sure, the immersive and rewarding battle mechanics are what keep you playing, but it’s the flavor and presentation of this unique setting that hooks you to begin with. In certain ways, Battle Network 6 does deliver a satisfying conclusion for the series. It’s clunky and doesn’t really land with all the emotional weight it intends, but in a way that’s kind of par for the course. The Battle Network series as a whole is somewhat clunky, inconsistent in its quality across all six titles, with numerous peaks and valleys within each individual game determining the ultimate outcome of the experience. By that metric, Battle Network 6 is sort of the perfect Battle Network game; an encapsulation of all the enduring charm and squandered potential each entry possesses regardless of how terrific the final result ends up. What’s good remains good, and what’s bad is, well, not unheard of for the franchise. And although 6 manages to trip at the finish line, half-heartedly giving us some emotional closure for the characters we’ve grown to love over a lengthy series of games, it still possesses the unique attributes and heart which has been pivotal for the series since its unforgettable inception.

Medium difficulty
19 hours
EA Play

First off, let's get the technical issues out of the way. There are big framerate drops in chapters 9 & 10. The game only crashed once and was in the final boss fight. There was one point where the EA servers had issues, due to this, I couldn't even start the game. It's really stupid that a single player only game is tied to an online server to even play it.

The game's UI lives up to the hype with the only issue typically being when how annoying it is to specify what you want to pick up when there are multiple pieces of loot close to each other.
Initially, I was disappointed by how weak the plasma cutter sounded, but the other guns sounded great, and playing the game with headphones kept me on edge because I could constantly hear the necromorphs climbing around and the ambient music. The game is quite great at knowing when to stop playing music while exploring the ship.

In terms of combat, Dead Space's biggest strength is its weapons and this is why I don't view it as a "survival horror" akin to the old Resident Evils. The game generally wants to or goes out of its way to put you in combat scenarios where you must kill every enemy because it is an action game. Every weapon generally starts out feeling great and only feels better as I upgrade them. The upgrade tree is fairly simple, but in an action game like this doing little things like expanding your magazine from 50 shots to 150 shots makes for a huge difference in combat. Due to this, the game wants you to swap through weapons during combat because all weapons are very effective at killing necromorphs.
In terms of enemy placements and level design, I believe there's a strong hint of randomization to the former while the latter tends to be divided into hallways, locked rooms, and open zero-g areas. necromorphs spawn from vents, shafts, air conditioners, or around corners. There are very few scenarios where Isaac ambushes necromorphs, it's typically the opposite.
The game will also spawn enemies in that manner within save rooms, with the only exception of save rooms that are very tiny halls with little space in them, I believe this was done because one can't jump in dead space. The other thing is that enemies can't open doors and except for the first few scripted hunter encounters, enemies can't follow you through different rooms.
In terms of enemy variety, there are about 8 enemy types in the game and there will never be more than 4 or 5 necromorphs on screen at once. Within hallways and long rooms, the game also loves spawning enemies behind Isaac and in front of him at the same time. This jump scare is utilized very frequently.

Knowing all of this, I started approaching much of combat using a few strategies. Once the music changed to something more sinister or tense, I would run to have the nearest door to my back since I knew an enemy couldn't spawn since a door was behind me and they couldn't open or go through it. Afterward, I just unload on as many enemies as possible. Since head shotting or shooting center mass typically won't kill most enemies, Dead Space ends up being unique by making you shoot at limbs. Shooting at weakpoints isn't new in shooters, but making it almost necessary for all enemies is what makes it stick out. The enemies I ended up disliking the most were the hunter and the huge titan that walked on all fours. I do not like the fact that an invincible enemy is just introduced halfway through the game that only returns intermittently. There's no real reason to engage the hunter, you just end up running away and the game will cheat a bit by making him climb through vents to then follow you but only within the first adjacent room you enter and it only happens sometimes. The other titan/brute, I disliked for being a huge bullet sponge in a game where you typically can kill enemies in a few shots. I didn't get this enemy, I rarely shot off limbs because it took too many shots and at times it was difficult to tell you were even doing damage because it wasn't losing limbs or much mass from being shot.

On the topic of survival horror. I think Dead Space makes a lot more sense as a horror shooter or action horror game than survival horror. The game is incredibly generous with ammunition, healing, & other supplies. There are 8 guns and all are found by the halfway point of the game. Every single enemy in the game will drop some form of random loot when killed in the form of credits, health packs, ammo, oxygen, or stasis packs. This makes sense in terms of the setting because all the necromorphs we fight are the citizens of the Ishimura. So while it's possible to run out of ammo for 1 or 2 guns, you have 6 more at any time to switch to and you are encouraged to kill more necromorphs because they will always drop something useful and there's a high chance it will be more ammo. This is what I mean when I say this game leans far more into action territory than anything. It can be quite scary but it wants me to actively engage and kill as many enemies as possible and regularly rewards me for doing so. This all works because the combat itself feels good due to being visceral, the atmosphere and sound design, and swaps through hallway, zero-g, and arenas fairly frequently to reduce monotony. For a game that almost entirely takes place in a ship, the ship itself is not just a shade of dull brown or gray.

The armor and weapon upgrades are the long-term rewards that typically come from exploration but this is gated by the plot. Except for chapters 9 & 12, all of Dead Space takes place in one contiguous location: The Ishimura spaceship. However, one can't go to all parts of the ship because there are locked doors and trains that block access to areas. The locked doors that gate the major section of the ship are only opened when you reach certain chapters and Isaac's allies give him access there, or when Isaac's allies give him security access to locked doors. Due to that, there isn't much voluntary non-linear exploration in Dead Space. There are a few side quests in the game and they give strong context to the characters that lived in this ship and how things got as bad on the Ishimura, how some coped with it, and what others did. I liked the side quests because they weren't fetch quests and they gave good characterization to the side characters we heard of that died right before the story began.

As for the ship, it's a great locale and it is a convincing location in terms of being a place where people lived and worked. The way it is designed makes sense from a non-videogame perspective with its use of various doors that just lead through the various sections of the ship without feeling like a fake maze. Elevators are in place because people would need them to get through various floors. There's a huge medical bay because a lot of doctors/scientists worked on this ship and they grew their food and took care of patients there. There's a big mining deck because the ship is a planet cracker and is used to extract minerals from planets. There's even a place of entertainment showing that the citizens of Ishimura played Zero gravity basketball as recreation. There's a big train system so the citizens could quickly get through the entirety of the ship in quick order, but even when I walked throughout the ship, it only took about an hour through most of it and each sector was connected in a manner that wasn't a winding maze that you typically find in many video games settings. That's on top of their fictional church, restaurants, etc.

A Good Game is a title that can be described as having amenable qualities that either satiate or fulfill a player’s expectations based on an established familiarity with the genre, or perhaps just the medium overall. A Great Game is often something that exceeds expectations, subverting or reinventing familiar mechanics, and therefore distinguishes itself as an archetypical pillar of exemplary assets and execution. A Special Game is something else entirely—something which defies conventional measures of quality. Bayonetta is a Special Game. Immediately, the stylistic distinctions and fluidity of gameplay identify the experience as such, setting Hideki Kamiya’s hack-and-slash successor apart from even its comparably distinguished spiritual predecessor. What keeps Bayonetta so distinguished are often the qualities which keep it compelling when all the mounting frustrations of the game threaten to derail one’s enjoyment of the experience entirely. Such persistent detriments would surely sink any other arbitrary game of repute, let alone one which is merely merited as “good.” It’s what makes Bayonetta a Special Game, then, that allows it to rise above the guile. To rid itself of deserved criticisms, by way of its inimitable charms. An ineffable blend of sensual charisma, exuberant spectacle, exhilarating combat, and a strong vision of character allows Bayonetta to offset its somewhat convoluted nature, setting aside rote metrics of quality so that all that’s left to linger are the unique aspects which determine its special status.

The first element likely to captivate a player is the game’s brazen tone and sense of humor. The characterization of Bayonetta as this excessively sexual, otherworldly being of magic, equipped equally with an arsenal of flirtatious quips as she is effusive ammunition, gives the game a tenacious air of unending camp. The absurd grandeur of Bayonetta’s demonic powers—using her hair as a conduit to summon maleficent beasts, or manifesting various torture devices to dispatch enemies while assuming various suggestive poses—exemplifies the awe-inspiring nexus of extravagant flare, seductive lure, and farcical extremity which combine to create the irresistable appeal of Bayonetta’s creed. Just as you’re ready to assume you’ve hit the game’s ceiling for maximalist scenarios, you’ll be thrown into a motorcycle level where you’re running over hordes of biblical angels, or a boss battle where you’re surfing around a kaiju-like deity, or fighting on top of a giant cruise missile transporting you to the game’s final area. Even the standard bouts of combat maintain this signature sense of flair, encouraging you to embrace its undulating nature, as you weave in and out of combo streaks, gliding around mobs of enemies in effortless evasions of their attacks, triggering the primary combat mechanic responsible for engineering the game’s satisfying rhythm of fluidity.

Witch Time is the central conceit around which Bayonetta’s buttery combat system is designed. Essentially, it is a dodge mechanic that slows down time temporarily, allowing you to extend your combos and pile on the damage in situations where you’d ordinarily need to evade or recuperate. As long as you keep timing your dodges correctly, Witch Time effectively allows you to continuously rag doll your foes about until they’re defeated. Alongside your powerful Wicked Weave combo finishers (towering extensions of Bayonetta’s arms and legs manifested as demonic hair creatures), the combat feels intuitive and in a constant flow. Even if you’re just incompetently mashing buttons instead of executing calculated strings of inputs, the gameplay feels immensely rewarding. There are certain secret arenas hidden within the various levels of the game intended to test your capabilities at felling enemies in a minimum amount of attacks, but without a dedicated space to practice and learn specific combo patterns, these can be rather difficult to approach. It’s very clear that the core system of combat designed for Bayonetta is absolutely overflowing with potential for creative expression and personal approach, but at the same time that potential feels just out of reach without a more comprehensive system to digest these various techniques. Even the weapons systems, which boasts an opportunity for more distinctive playstyles, ultimately feels somewhat arbitrary to a novice playing through the game for the first time. It’s more than likely that there are more nuances to both the weapons system and overall combat that I simply failed to pick up on, but the perceived lack of distinction still led me to feel that the game’s fantastic combat system is perhaps less intuitively complex than it initially appears. It’s never not amazing to play, however, and any potential excess of mechanics doesn’t sour the overall experience too greatly.

This sentiment unfortunately does not extend to the actual levels encounters take place in, though, as the spaces you explore are sorely devoid of place and personality alike, more often functioning as vaguely European-themed hallways connecting one combat encounter to the next. Vigrid, the fictional city in which the story takes place, remains as much of a foggy mess to us as the clouded memories of our protagonist wandering its barren streets. It apparently exists as an intersection between the heavenly plane and the underworld below, due to the overwhelming significance of its holy presence according to the convoluted backstory the game provides. The whole of the narrative for Bayonetta feels like contrived nonsense, marred by a trite amnesia conceit that’s further muddied by an excess of lore attempting to paint a grandiose image of a centuries-old conflict between light and dark. If the central characters of the story weren’t so compellingly depicted, the whole facade would quickly fall to pieces. As for the setting itself, it’s never evident where exactly you’re going or why, or what even distinguishes the latest level from the one before it, unless there’s some unique gimmick, typically involving some kind of annoying hazard you have to navigate around. There’s nothing to explore in these copy-paste environments, as even when there are secrets to be had there’s never any satisfaction in uncovering them. Each area is merely a waiting room between fights, one right after another until you reach the end, which is only evidenced by the fact that you’re fighting some kind of boss. This listless sense of progression is mirrored in the game’s overall structure as well, haphazardly plodding along towards some uncertain climax. For as great as the gameplay and personality of the game is, it constantly feels wanting for a sense of direction.

As mentioned, though, if a game retains enough of its unique charms, fatal flaws can often be overcome. There’s just enough about Bayonetta to be quite unlike anything one could compare in its nature. The roots of its hack-and-slash gameplay are obviously well-founded in the genre, and it’s by no means the first game to be brazen and sexual in its presentation. But the way in which it melds these elements together, marrying exemplary combat systems with the stylistic characteristics of its protagonist, keeps one’s thoughts hanging on those qualities in the face of its recurring frustrations. Beyond its asinine narrative and occasionally convoluted mechanics, Bayonetta feels plagued by its use of insta-fail quick time events and wickedly punishing boss fights, many of which are capable of retaliating with little to no notice, often destroying not only your combo strings, but any decent chance of getting a good score for the level as well. However, in spite of how unfair or uninspired certain aspects of the game end up feeling, it’s never not fun to play. The fundamentals are just too good to be dragged down, and the character of the piece too distinct to ignore. Bayonetta is not a Good Game. Bayonetta is not a Bad Game. It’s something else entirely.

Unique; Distinct; Inimitable.

Special.

The narrative framing of this game is spectacular. The protagonist is caught somewhere between guilt and selfishness, dragging the player with them through their mess. This game is important in its portrayal of the nuances of south/southeast asian queer identities and cultural expectations. The art, writing and character arcs are delightful. What keeps this game from truly being brilliant is... Everything else. You can't expect quick time events and a shallow turn-based combat system to hold their weight against everything else this game brings to the table.

In Thirsty Suitors you play as Jala, a queer woman returning to her hometown to mend her relationships with just about everyone - her parents, her sister, her grandma, and no less than SIX of her ex-partners. You do that in unbelivable style - every animation is super extra, colors are vibrant, vibes are immaculate, skateboarding through town, engaging in cooking mini games and turn based JRPG-esque combat as metaphors for conversation.

None of the mechanics are super deep, but they feel great (mostly, Skateboarding sucks a little bit of ass), full of creative ideas and visuals, and always used to support the narrative, which is really good! Easily one of the best written games of the year, and you'd probably get even more out of it than me if a lot of its themes around queer relationships and Indian family dynamics hit closer to home.

The best part of playing Hitman: Blood Money is that it makes me feel smart. Stealth assassination games are hardly in short supply these days, but none provide the same satisfaction as Blood Money. Getting in, eliminating your target, and getting out without drawing attention is never easy, and when you pull it off you feel like you’ve emptied a casino’s coffers with a pair of twos.

I miss this era of gaming, when jank felt fun, and we laughed at it instead of posting screeds on reddit about “dogwater AI”. One of my favorite moments from my recent playthrough featured me injecting lethal poison into my target while his guards stood idly just inches away. Their sight lines were perfectly blocked, allowing me to do the deed and saunter away scot-free. When I type it out like this it sounds silly, but when you’re in the moment, assuming the role of Agent 47, it’s absolutely exhilarating – and perhaps just a little hilarious too.

In any case, Blood Money is never boring. Looking back, there are so many memorable missions. Christmas party at Playboy mansion? Check. FBI witness protection scene in Suburbia, USA? Check. Redneck mobster wedding? Check. Hit in New Orleans during the middle of Mardi Gras? Check. Some missions are better than others, of course, but they’re all bangers.

As a newcomer to the series, the story didn’t make a whole lot of sense. It felt like a meandering thread that barely connected the wildly varying missions. If you told me IO Interactive designed the missions first and made a story connecting them later, I would not be the least bit surprised. It’s for the best, though: I’ll take strong, filler-free gameplay over boring story-focused missions any day. Oh, and shoutout to the ending, which features probably the most gratifying credits scene in the history of video games.

Hitman: Blood Money is a surprisingly deep game. Most levels allow for multiple ways of achieving victory, and I’m sure speedrunners have had years of fun seeing how fast they can get in and out while achieving a Silent Assassin rating. It’s a game full of secrets and subtle variations. Never has getting away with murder been this much fun.

Persona 5's oversaturation is becoming very clear, another spinoff later. The gameplay is fun, although it feels redundant after a while, and doesn't really feel like "persona gameplay", and fusions just feel like a waste of time

The story is okay, but it doesn't feel like P5's cast even needs to be here, the story revolves around 2 characters, while the main cast is just an accessory, because there's nothing else they can do with these characters

The wait for the next game is feeling uncertain, it's really time to let go.

I was fairly uninterested in the game (and the story) until the tail end of the first Kingdom, then it becomes much more interesting with a few added mechanics, enemy types, and the narrative finally moving along.

I liked the art direction they went with. Fairly barebones skill trees for the characters, and Personas were mainly passives unless you wanted a big AoE skill. Despite this they did a good job making the characters play differently, so swapping around can keep things interesting.

The final act of the game was pretty...whatever. They throw in a very shoehorned boss rush, but then the actual final boss was pretty good. Overall, the game was fun but I would only recommend through Game Pass or a sale, $60 feels a little steep.

I'm just gonna start this with the biggest negatives that I have, so they're out of the way. First, damage should be a flat number. In a souls game, I shouldn't have fights go different because I rolled low for my attacks, it throws the groove off, and just kinda messes with pacing.

Second, a lack of poise really hurts. Nothing hits harder than a charge attack being cancelled at the last possible second due to an errant blow. And with how jittery bosses can be, it happens somewhat frequently.

Third, the game is kind of stylized around this invisible stagger meter. It fills on parries and just damage, and once filled a charge attack (or some throwables) will put the boss in a downed state where you can do a prompted visceral attack. That's kind of cool, what isn't cool though is bosses faking you out with them. Whether that be cleansing themself of the effect, or having attacks that come out prior to being staggered.

Fourth, and this one is more personal. The amount of multiphase bosses is just a bit much. Especially with how damage spongy some of the first phases can be. I never kept track, but I don't think I ever spent more than 10 attempts at a boss, but they just didn't feel great and I can imagine them being a pain point for others.

Fifth, wake up rolls are locked behind a skill tree. That's just such an odd choice.

So, plot wise it's pretty apparent where the story is going. And that's ok, it's nothing new or special, but it isn't outright bad either. The logic the game gives for going point to point works, and there's never moments where I just didn't understand why we were at the location we were.

The choices you come across (often just lie or tell the truth) don't really feel like there's any weight behind them. Things just kind of move on regardless of your options.

The 11th chapter is just egregious on the quantity and quality of enemies it throws at you. And it's actually the first zone that I just chose to ignore and run through on my first visit.

Stylistically it's a pretty setting, with quite a few varied enemies. Although the carcass enemies slowly get integrated into the puppets and really knock the visuals down in my opinion.