I played EarthBound without any nostalgia for it and with relatively few expectations. My overall impression was that it was broadly enjoyable despite its moments of tedium; frequently clever and fun, but never really taking its oddball setting much farther than vague pseudo-satire. It's storytelling meanders between a delightfully absurd jumble of earnest heroism, creeping horror, offbeat comedy, and wild psychedelia, all of which help to keep the experience varied and unexpected.

The game has a number of small mechanical twists that demonstrate its "not like other JRPGs" philosophy pretty nicely, as well as a number of aesthetic changes to the usual genre trappings that are fun to puzzle out (e.g. figuring out what the heck the "crying uncontrollably" status does).

Actual moment-to-moment gameplay can be rather tedious to at times, despite the twists; I recommend leaning on emulator save states (if available) to avoid retreading a dungeon if you whiff a boss fight. There is an in-built hint system that's also quite handy, so you'll pretty rarely need to look up anything even if you're playing casually.

A lot of folks have a deep connection to this game that comes from playing it at a formative time, and I can certainly appreciate how impactful that can be. For me, EarthBound didn't manage to pull on my heartstrings at all; its own irreverence and paper-thin characters got in the way of any real emotional investment.

That said, it was consistently fun to see what kind of nonsense the game had hidden around each subsequent corner, and that's a perfectly good reason to play. I liked it well enough!

A remarkable precursor to what is now a beloved niche genre. System Shock has plenty of rough edges and it's certainly an ordeal to use the original controls, but the resulting challenge and variety is still fairly rewarding.

It definitely takes some time to get your bearings and understand how to navigate the world. Cyberspace in particular is miserable until you can get a grip on what the objectives are. Even then, it's very fortunate that the cyberspace sections are relatively brief.

But the general exploration, resource collection, enemy encounters, and gradual storytelling through audio logs makes for an atmospheric and unsettling experience (albeit falling a little shy of real horror tone). Audio logs are foundational towards the actual objectives that progress the story. Figuring out the correct sequence of locations to visit and actions to perform based on diegetic instructions makes the game unfold in a natural and believable way despite the haphazard path it takes around the station.

SHODAN is regarded as a true classic of video game antagonists, and while I think a huge part of that is attributed to the excellent and unsettling voice manipulation that characterizes her sound, I also love her unrepentant egomania. Her motivations rarely seem more complicated than "because I can and I want to", which imparts a sense of horror that would be lost if she had any degree of moral intention. Her gloating and monologuing could have easily become annoying if overused, but they were deployed exactly the right amount.

I've not played the remake, but I have watched a good chunk of it; while the modern remake brings some interesting ideas, elaborations, and design adjustments, I think it also loses some subtlety in its characterization of both SHODAN and Citadel Station. The graphical and narrative elisions of the original game stand up to scrutiny, in my opinion, and still provide something rich and interesting.

I even found the legacy control scheme to be productive, because it forced me to be more tactical and resourceful rather than relying on reflexes. That said, if you wanted to use the free-look support in the Enhanced Edition, I absolutely wouldn't blame you. It's a cool game that's worth seeing one way or another, so don't let that get in the way.

A stellar metroidvania-style platformer with engaging combat, unique traversal abilities, and a diverse and interesting world to explore.

Difficulty settings are fairly flexible, but dialing up the challenge a bit feels quite rewarding. Some platforming challenges are tough, but none are so brutal that they can't be overcome with a little trial and error (and the hardest ones are optional).

The myriad collectables do sometimes boil down to trivialities, but there are some fairly interesting things to be found hidden in distant corners that keep exploration exciting and worthwhile.

Mapping your way through the world is bolstered by a clever little innovation on the popular "custom map markers" mechanic: map markers can include a screenshot from the world itself, helping you remember exactly what it was you wanted to revisit.

The visual aesthetics are stylish and still manage to read very clearly. Though they can occasionally veer into being a little corny or inconsistent, it's generally nice to look at.

The Lost Crown's major lack is in its storytelling; though its many collectible messages and relics will occasionally have interesting flavor, the broad strokes of the story fall short of the promise that the endearing character designs establish. Most of the women in the story are completely sidelined as the story zeroes in on its least interesting (or at least, most abstract) elements.

There are small character moments I still like a lot, but they're so few and far between that I lost interest after a while. It's a shame, given how stylish and fun the designs tend to be.

Storytelling aside, though, the core experience here is spectacular, and genuinely stands up against the genre's juggernaut fan favorites. If you dig a metroidvania, you really really should check this out.

1993

Myst is an interesting cultural object that might be a little odd to visit for the first time today. My experience with it was quite positive given the intervening time, despite occasional frustrations.

I think the most striking thing about Myst today is the effectiveness of its pacing and world design. While the actual acting performances are over-the-top, the mechanism of gating the worlds behind journals and puzzles develops an excellent sense of mystery and curiosity.

Reading the journals for the various ages to which you can travel instills a sense of familiarity and anticipation to actually traveling to them. Arriving at an age was exciting, because it meant seeing something in person that you'd only read about, but also an encouraging sense of understanding as you recognize details based on what you've read.

There are a few occasions where it's near impossible to see a particular detail that you must interact with, or to find a path you can travel down in order to get where you need to go. I definitely encourage players to seek out clues or solutions online if they're stuck (I certainly had to a few times). Besides a few of these (probably unintentional) cheap shots, the widely available Masterpiece edition is very playable and very engaging for a sufficiently patient modern player.

This was my first time reaching this far back into the Legend of Zelda series. Despite being relentless with checkpoints and occasionally expecting logical leaps, I was pleasantly surprised how well-guided this game was for a newcomer.

The equipment found throughout the game adds some fun and meaningful new verbs, and integrates nicely into all the puzzles. I found that save states were helpful for some of the most tedious "get back to the spot before the boss fight" scenarios (I played on the SNES emulator on Switch), but otherwise the game stands up surprisingly nicely to someone like myself who has expectations that are largely informed by more modern games.

Fun to see the refined concepts from the older titles, the cool graphical flourishes they achieved with the upgrade to the SNES, and the iconic elements that this title brought into the series. Certainly worth playing for the first time today, especially with the reduced friction that comes from save states and having a walkthrough on hand if needed.

A great little metroidvania with spectacular movement mechanics, good atmosphere, and very little hand-holding (maybe too little).

Once it gets going, the traversal is fluid and engaging. It's rarely clear whether reaching some ledge is a sequence break, or the game is legitimately expecting you to get there as part of the critical path. That ambiguity makes it a lot of fun to try things you're not sure you can do, and sometimes get away with them. The abilities chain together in interesting ways, but every individual one adds a lot of fun complexity to the movement kit all on its own. Some nuances of the movement aren't fully explained, so it's definitely worth experimenting with what you can do.

The metroidvania structure of the game is great, full of unexpected shortcuts and an interesting variety of areas, but there's a desperate need for a bit more direction; once you feel like you've exhausted all of your exploration options, you have no other tools to track down what you missed besides scouring everything all over again. Which can be a little bit rough given the lack of map and very minimal key item tracking. I'd have loved to see little clues peppered around the world to nudge me towards powerups and key items. It can be frustrating to have no idea where you missed something.

At the end of the day, I pulled up a guide or consulted the wiki to track down a couple of items when I got thoroughly stuck; I highly recommend this approach if you don't know where to look. I also had some visibility issues with one of the areas that isn't supposed to be impossibly dark (just very very dark), so beware of this if you have an HDR display. Despite these little problems, there's truly a lot to love.