Anyone who lives in the San Francisco Bay Area will feel right at home in Watch Dogs 2. The important landmarks are there, even odd intersections that may only stand out to residents. But I don't think you need to be familiar with the real Bay Area to appreciate how Watch Dogs 2's mix of nature and urban sprawl makes for a picturesque, playful open world. Its people and places are colorful and over the top, kind of like the real thing.
And whether or not you understand the references that drive Watch Dogs 2's twisted take on Silicon Valley shouldn't matter either: This outing errs on the side of irreverence and unapologetic fun, trading in the original Watch Dogs' rain-soaked trenchcoat and drab demeanor for a neon-colored assault rifles and a pair of skinny jeans. The new attitude and setting are a great combination that allow you to experience the dream--rather than the nightmare--of living in the digital age.
That doesn't mean the world of Watch Dogs 2 is all peace and love. Its gleeful exterior masks a troubled society in the throes of gang violence, political corruption, and rampant hacking. Our antihero Marcus is, to an extent, part of the problem, but he's mostly on the side of good. With his hacking skills under your control, you spend a lot of time thwarting nefarious jerks by tapping into their networks to hit them where it hurts--whether that means dismantling their criminal enterprises or airing their dirty laundry in public. And when digital attacks fail, Marcus knows how to handle a gun. He's a walking contradiction that hates corruption yet murders without flinching, but his actions are so entertaining that you probably won't care for long, if at all.
Your primary mission stems from Dedsec, a group of stereotypical, hyperactive hackers who target government and corporate entities that see private information as a commodity. With society networked and people rampantly sharing pieces of their lives with third parties, the critical mass of data has overflown into the pockets of evil in Watch Dogs 2, but you're the best digital Robin Hood around, which means almost nothing is out of reach. If you can't hack or shoot your way into a building, remote-controlled drones can get you into hard-to-reach places.
With the help of a botnet derived from Dedsec's social media followers--which you're responsible for cultivating by completing story missions and side quests--you can manipulate digital locks, computers, and security cameras to steal data and spy on unknowing targets. Your handy smartphone is capable of hacking into bigger equipment, too, including massive cranes that can lift you atop tall buildings. If you have a penchant for creating domino effects in games, look forward to repositioning explosive objects with forklifts to set up semi-elaborate traps--if not because you have no other choice, then perhaps for the satisfaction you get from watching your prey wander into harm's way.
Sneaking around guards requires critical thought and precise action, but the more you play, the more you discover ways to work around the heaviest hitters and enemy AI in general.
To survey a scene for potential hackables, enable Nethack mode, and you can peer deeper into your surroundings and pinpoint the location of vulnerable devices and human threats; hackable objects and other points of interest are brightly colored. It's easy to lose yourself in Nethack vision because it gives you a palpable advantage while hacking into hard-to-reach locations, but this trick can feel a little like cheating and ultimately robs you of experiencing the sights and sounds around you firsthand.
Even with Nethack mode enabled, sneaking around guards requires critical thought and precise action, but the more you play, the more you discover ways to work around the heaviest hitters and enemy AI in general. It starts early on when you learn how easy it is to distract a guard by sending a fake call to their cell phone, even when they're searching for an intruder. Then there are quirks specific to unique events. In a later mission, you can use a quadcopter to unlock a prison cell; the two guards standing by won't bat an eye when a heavily locked door magically opens behind them, making your job far easier than it should be.
However, enemies are great at hugging corners and swarming your hiding place when your cover is blown. In numbers, a group of guards is difficult to manage, and a few missions will surprise you with tricky layouts and hidden variables that force you to consider a Plan B. Marcus is remarkably fit, capable of scaling small buildings provided there's a nearby dumpster-sized object to give him a boost. He can also run forever without a pesky stamina meter and has a habit of doing a backflip when jumping from ledges. He's less graceful when facing guards, unfortunately, due to sticky cover mechanics that don't always react as expected. It's not unusual to find yourself on the wrong side of an object because the game couldn't tell if you wanted to round a corner or snap to a different object altogether.
Resorting to guns to get into or out of buildings balances out time spent sneaking and hacking by adding some exciting moments, but it's shallow in isolation. The shooting feels fine, but plenty of other open-world action games offer more substantial, varied options--Grand Theft Auto V and Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain come to mind. There's more emphasis on sneaking and acting silently in Watch Dogs 2; quiet melee takedowns often get you farther than an itchy trigger finger might, especially against armored enemies.
There's no shortage of wacky quests to break things up and offer light-hearted goals, such as rescuing a Tom Cruise-like celebrity from the clutches of a cult.
It also doesn't take long for the police to show up when gunfire breaks out. You can try to hold your ground by hacking and firing back, but even with a heavy arsenal, you'll eventually have to flee. Driving, in mechanical terms, is all over the place, with only a few rides that offer a pleasing balance of performance and control. The rest are too slow to be useful--or too wild to steer with confidence under pressure.
Motorcycles feel great, on the other hand, offering both speed and easy handling. Exploring the map on a motorcycle--whether it's searching for stunt ramps or to simply take in the sights--is a relaxing way to kill a few hours in Watch Dogs 2. Don't be surprised if you hop into the game just so you can ride a motorcycle down the Embarcadero at sunset or blow through the lush scenery of Golden Gate Park.
Ubisoft does a great job of presenting the Bay Area in an attractive way that feeds intrepid tourists an impressive variety of sights. However, something's definitely missing. You won't see a lot of pedestrians or cars on the street compared to similar games. This limits how much destruction you can create, but it also gives you space to drive fast in a city that's usually clogged with traffic. The latter is important not only for sightseeing, but also because it gives you a better chance of running into minigames. You can always check your map and fast travel to mission icons or curious events, but that deprives you of the rewarding sense of discovery Watch Dogs 2 affords. Eschewing fast travel also gives you the chance to get to know your fellow urbanites, either by working for an Uber-like car-sharing service to engage in chitchat and make extra cash, or by walking the streets and hacking into their phones to steal money and listen in on phone calls.
When you get tired of that, you're never far from a motorcycle or go-kart race, or a handful of small side missions. There's no shortage of wacky quests to break things up and offer light-hearted goals, such as rescuing a Tom Cruise-like celebrity from the clutches of a cult or hijacking a talking car--similar to KITT from Knight Rider--from its movie-set storage. You may wonder how a team of determined activists find themselves so readily distracted from their primary targets, but somehow, every mission connects back to the bigger picture. And, really, Watch Dogs 2 doesn't take its own story too seriously, so it pays to sit back and enjoy the ride when things get weird.
Even when playing solo, Watch Dogs 2 remains a fun, energetic game filled with possibilities.
Though the feature wasn't present at launch, Watch Dogs 2 now supports seamless player-versus-player hacking online. You are free to turn this off if you wish, but knowing that you may have to stop what you're doing at the drop of a hat to find the nearby stranger tapping into your phone adds a small but appreciable layer to the experience. The game also offers opportunities to join police chases and take down troublemaking players--don't be surprised when the tables are turned and you see another player on your tail, barreling down steep streets beside a fleet of SFPD vehicles. When you'd rather hack with, rather than against someone, you can take on small co-op missions, but they're so close to single-player missions in structure that factoring in coordination can seem more like a chore than a benefit.
Even when playing solo, Watch Dogs 2 remains a fun, energetic game filled with possibilities. It's easy see-through enemy AI during missions that are supposed to be challenging, which holds back the game at large, but it's a chance to let loose, logic be damned. Watch Dogs 2's world is a step up from the first game's dreary rendition of Chicago, and even though Watch Dogs 2 can't go toe-to-toe with genre heavyweights, it's hard to walk away from its fun-loving attitude and exuberant cast.
Agent 47 never takes this long. The 2016 version of Hitman plays like the longest assassination of the chrome-domed killer's lengthy career, thanks to developer IO Interactive's decision to issue the game via six chapters released roughly from spring to fall. But I'm certainly not complaining about the marketing, given that the final package showcases some of the most enthralling exploits of gaming's most infamous murderer-for-hire. Sprawling levels, tremendous attention to detail with both graphics and sound design, and countless assassination options make this an engrossing experience that includes some of the best replay value ever seen in a game.
Having come into this season of Hitman only after it was complete, I can't render a judgment about how the game was released in an episodic format. I'm glad that I got to play through it as a complete experience, and I can't imagine having to wait weeks to go on my next assignment. But at the same time, I see the appeal of tackling each of the game's six separate assignments (plus the opening training missions that flash back to the beginning of Agent 47's career) one by one, given just how much gameplay is jammed into each of them. The individual missions here send you jetting all over the globe like a bald James Bond with a barcode on the back of his head. Everything is linked via brief cutscenes that focus on a figure from Agent 47's past. But the levels are so big and so packed with details that they take on lives of their own, much like separate movies in a franchise.
The long-running international flavor of the Hitman series has been spiced up here with unique locations that take place in virtually every corner of the world. You prowl a Paris fashion show, sneak around a luxurious villa on the Italian coast, venture into mobs rioting in Moroccan souks, stalk a rock star at a five-star hotel in Thailand, assault the leaders of a militia on a compound in Colorado, and finally explore a private hospital atop a snowy mountain in Japan. Each level looks fantastic and is stuffed with all sorts of nooks and crannies to explore and hundreds of NPCs to interact with--many of whom come with dialogue and specific routines and behaviors that can be figured into your assassinations. The only drawback with the overall presentation is the quality of the NPC dialogue, which is nicely varied and well acted but virtually all spoken with a standard American accent that can kill your suspension of disbelief. Hearing Italian thugs and Cuban soldiers all speaking like average American Joes really takes you out of the moment, at least until you get accustomed to this oddity.
The attention to detail is otherwise superb, though. I typically took a good hour or two wandering around each level, listening in to conversations, and just generally getting the lay of the land before deciding on a course of action. The game offers dozens of ways to kill every target--and even more routes to take to get to them before you shoot them, garrotte them, drown them in toilets, blow them up, poison them, blast them out of an ejector seat in a jet plane, and so on. Every assignment also comes with loads of different people in loads of different professions, which provides even more routes to your victims via the outfits you can remove from their corpses for use as disguises. Want to stay in a secret-agent tux? Or even a snazzy summer suit? Sure thing. But you can also ditch the formal outfits for the garb of a security guard, a male supermodel, a scientist in a hazmat suit, a plague doctor, a chef, and many, many more.
Granted, all of the above makes Hitman more of a funhouse ride than a grim series of contract killings. While it's fun to encounter switches that drop chandeliers, a hookah that can be poisoned, convenient wire-and-puddle combos that can be turned into electrocution traps, and murderous random accoutrements from bombs to scissors to swords to bricks to fire extinguishers to pretty much everything but the kitchen sink, everything goes well over the top. The game is more of a cartoon than any sort of authentic exploration of the world of contract assassinations--which is certainly a good thing, both for the way this lightens the mood (any game where you can blow up a guy who's puking into a toilet isn't one that takes itself too seriously, despite the body count) and also how it provides so much room for murderous creativity.
I don't think I've ever played a game with so many options to reach its goals. The first time through a level is just the beginning. Replay value is spectacular, and maybe even unprecedented for a Hitman game, given the massive size and scope of the levels, the number of NPCs, the number of murderous gadgets and weapons littering every room and corridor, and also because of the added options that open up after an initial run-through. Completing mission challenges unlock frills like new weapons, disguises, and starting locations, which of course offer up new ways to get to and finish off your marks.
And then there is Escalation Mode, a new feature that adds requirements to existing levels. It basically creates new missions that involve you offing multiple new targets in specific ways. Difficulty goes up with each successful assassination assignment. Escalations start with things like murdering a few people in specific ways, say by explosives, and then move on to more complex goals like killing while wearing a specific disguise, finishing off all of your targets in a tight time limit, dumping all the bodies in one location, and so forth.
Elusive Targets is a timed mode that lets you go after special victims (who can't be seen on the map) with just one chance at success before you lose the contract forever. IO releases these victims into the wild at set times and leaves them up for limited periods of time until they vanish, never to be heard from again. It's a great added incentive to keep going back to the game, even long after the standard missions and their added challenges wear thin. And Contracts Mode (brought back from 2012's Hitman: Absolution) allows you to mark random NPCs as targets and set kill requirements, creating missions that can be shared with other players.
Finally, PS4 players have access to one more series of exclusive missions called the Sarajevo Six. These sideline assignments that follow along with your trips around the world to complete your main goals see Agent 47 tracking down a half-dozen war criminals who've been wanted ever since they participated in war crimes during the Siege of Sarajevo some 20 years ago. It's a great story with a nice tie-in to the real war in the former Yugoslavia, but the assignments are pretty straightforward and don't don't offer the variety of escalation/contracts. These bonus contracts still probably make the PS4 version of the game the best to buy, although you're really not missing much by playing on PC or Xbox One.
You can approach Hitman in two very different ways. You can use the default settings, which sees the game function more traditionally. This primarily means that you're guided through the game via highlighted Opportunities that underline when conversations and circumstances can be used to set up assassinations. It's kind of a tip system, pointing you in the direction that you might want to go and turning the game into a relatively linear experience. I found Opportunities invaluable for initial runs through missions, as the tremendous size of the levels make them very daunting to approach without any hand-holding--at least at first. Another enhancement is the Instinct feature, held over from Hitman: Absolution, but scaled back in some ways so that you can no longer use it to track NPC movements or to avoid detection while disguised. Still, even though the option is supposed to replicate Agent 47's preternatural abilities as an assassin, it kind of turns him into a superhero with X-ray eyes and mind-reading skills. So, I avoided its use.
Or you can shut all that stuff off and venture into a complete sandbox experience, where you have nothing to guide you to your targets save your own wits and observation skills. This offers the purest, most rewarding Hitman experience, but it's also probably best reserved for experienced players in search of increased difficulty or a new way to approach levels you've already bested with the above features turned on. I found the levels too vast to explore without some assistance (and using Opportunities is also a big help when trying to pull off the most outrageous kills), but I can see the value of turning off these crutches for a second go-round. Going in without this help makes everything more realistic and emphasizes how much you have to watch and listen in order to plan out a path to your kills.
My only lingering issues with Hitman involve a couple of relatively minor points. The first involves the internal logic of the game. At times, it seems to be somewhat random whether or not you an NPC or victim notices you. I don't know if it's the luck of the draw, but sometimes you're seen as a suspicious character right off the bat, even if you're wearing the right disguise and (seemingly) haven't done a thing to draw attention to yourself. Even accidentally bumping up against somebody can raise the alarm, which is really annoying at times--the number of NPCs packed into most levels makes it impossible to get through crowds without letting fly an errant elbow.
Enemy AI is a little slow on the draw when it does identify you, though. Lengthy pauses make it reasonably easy to run off or shoot a guard or three in the face, even well after they've figured out that the weird bald guy with the ominous head tattoo is actually up to no good. The second issue is the irritating need to be connected online to play the game. It's totally unnecessary for a solo experience like this. It seems to slow the game down somewhat (load times are way too long), and the servers disconnect on occasion for short periods of time, leaving you unable to play.
Delayed gratification from the episodic release schedule or not, this 2016 take on Hitman is a brilliant game. Expansive level design and nearly unlimited replay value courtesy of so many routes to your assassinations (and so many methods with which to carry them out) make the experience almost completely different each and every time you play. Yes, Agent 47 took his time getting here, but it was time well spent.
You've got to hand it to jugglers: they really know how to up the stakes. Need more tension? Add more objects! Still not enough? Light those objects on fire! And for the grand finale? Recruit a second juggler and start tossing flaming batons back and forth. Cooperative party game Overcooked cleverly borrows this template and applies it to a restaurant setting. Across an ever-changing series of kitchens, up to four chefs must prepare meals by performing simple tasks--chopping vegetables, cooking meat, washing dishes--in an effort to prepare and serve as many complete dishes as possible within a strict time limit.
Each task is, in isolation, dead simple--actions rarely require more than a single button press and objectives are plainly displayed on screen at all times. But as part of a larger coordinated effort, each step potentially becomes that one load-bearing Jenga block that sends the entire tower tumbling when removed. If, for example, your onion soup is ready to serve but you don't have any clean bowls, the soup starts to burn, not only ruining the dish but eventually lighting the kitchen itself on fire as well (don't worry, there's always a fire extinguisher handy). The tiny red warning signal that flashes and the accelerating beep that accompanies it quickly become sources of immense panic.
If this all sounds stressful, you're right, it is. Extremely stressful. And that's exactly why Overcooked is one of the most exhilarating couch co-op games of the year. All the stress and tension that mounts as the timer ticks away result in a massive wave of relief and triumph upon successfully finishing a level at the highest rating. It also sucks you into the experience better than any game in recent memory. The same way a truly great song turns even the most reluctant wallflower into a dancing machine, Overcooked's potent recipe for escalating chaos will have you and your friends screaming instructions to one another without a hint of self-consciousness. More than once, I noticed a teammate standing on the opposite side of a counter directly in front of the bin of food items and found myself breathlessly demanding a tomato. To illicit that kind of reckless abandon is a rare and laudable feat.
And not only does the basic gameplay formula work wonderfully, the experience provides a huge variety of unexpected wrinkles across its reasonably meaty campaign. At the beginning, dishes involve only a single ingredient, but you'll quickly graduate from soups to salads, then to burgers, burritos, fried foods, and so on, each meal more complex than the last. Dishes aren't the only source of challenge and variety, though. Every mission occurs in a different kitchen, and every kitchen introduces its own unique twist.
For want of a bowl, the kitchen was lost.
In addition to coping with layout changes, you might also have to hop between trucks while grilling your way down a highway or dart across icebergs that intermittently connect the two halves of an icy kitchen. If you make it all the way to The Lost Morsel DLC, you'll even have to smack buttons to raise and lower barriers while dodging fireballs. Even smaller challenges--like limited flatware or adorable mice that steal your food--can derail your efforts. The roster of potential variables is both extensive and wildly inventive. This not only keeps the experience feeling fresh, it also results in a renewed sense of accomplishment with each rating star earned.
Without that tension, however, Overcooked's formula starts to fall apart, which is why the game really doesn't work as a solo experience. If you play solo, you control two characters, swapping between them on the fly as they complete automated tasks you've set for them. The gameplay becomes a different sort of balancing act, but too much is lost in the process. The hilarity and infectious enthusiasm of playing with friends is replaced by tedious task management, so the energy fizzles. Plus, score requirements are set much lower, so you can totally bungle a few orders and still somehow achieve a perfect rating.
Without question, Overcooked works best when played with friends, which makes the fact that you cannot play online an unforgivable oversight. There is, at least, a local competitive mode to compliment the cooperative campaign. Two teams of two cook across a series of symmetrical kitchens to see which pair can churn out the most dishes. It's a simple addition that makes no meaningful changes to the core gameplay but provides a welcome diversion from the campaign nonetheless. And recruiting people to play either mode should be relatively easy. Overcooked is not only extremely accessible--with intuitive, pick-up-and-play controls--it's also adorable. Who wouldn't want to chop onions as a racoon in a wheelchair?
Overcooked contains all the necessary ingredients for a truly excellent co-op game. Stress is always balanced out by feelings of accomplishment and progression, and its gameplay requires a mix of smart planning, consistent communication, and some level of dexterity to execute plans effectively. And of course, the cuteness keeps it feeling light and fun, which helps you not hate your friends when they fail to take a pan off the burner in time. It's a shame there's no online option since most of the game's magic evaporates without other players to help you along. If you have folks to play with, however, Overcooked turns juggling simple tasks into a hilarious and occasionally catastrophic exercise in precise communication.
Sports Interactive's long-running Football Manager series is at its best when you've been with a team for a handful of seasons--once you've managed to stamp your mark on a club, imbued it with your own philosophies, and adopted an anomalous way of putting your opponents to the sword. Sure, you've dealt with your fair share of volatile personalities throughout the years--perhaps you were forced to sell a star player after a heated argument over his eagerness to join Barcelona--but you always had a plan.
All of the franchise's disparate systems--transfer dealings, player scouting, tactical tinkering--coalesced into an endlessly engaging whole that creates some memorable tales. It's no surprise that with each new addition to the series, we see plenty of improvements and new features in these areas. Yet it's the on-pitch action--which usually takes a relative backseat in Football Manager--that really holds it all together.
In that regard, Football Manager 2016 was a decidedly flawed game. Its 3D match engine was flushed with blemishes: god-like crosses comprised the vast majority of goals scored, right backs were overpowered, and defenders inexcusably forgot how to defend in the simplest of situations. These flaws may have seemed minor, but magnified over the long haul, they cheapened and frustrated the experience. My resounding success leading Burnley to a fourth-place finish in the Premier League hardly felt gratifying once I realized I'd unwittingly exploited the AI's inability to deal with crosses. And losing a cup final on something that felt less like a player's mistake and more like the fault of the match engine itself was particularly exasperating. As such, I only spent a mere 200 hours with Football Manager 16 (a far cry from the 800-ish hours I usually spend rooted in the series' virtual dugout).
I'm happy, then, to proclaim that Football Manager 2017's engine rights its predecessor's wrongs, and it's simply a much more enjoyable game to watch and manage. There are still a tad too many goals scored from crosses, but this is mitigated somewhat by the sheer variety of potential goals now, owing to the fact that players perform far more intelligently.
Previously (and I'm talking a few years here), wingers would reach the byline and unforgivably shoot from the tightest of angles. Now when this happens, your sprightly winger will, more often than not, take stock and assess the situation. He might hit a high cross to the striker at the back post or cut it back to an onrushing midfielder on the edge of the box for a Lampard-esque finish. You'll also see playmakers ping 40-yard passes to pacy forwards dashing behind the defense, see the odd deflected effort loop over a stranded goalkeeper, or jump up in excitement as a curler nestles in the top corner of the net. And it's not just a goalfest, either. Defenders are now more adept at, well, defending--maintaining their shape and proving difficult to break down if they're set up to do so.
Opposition managers are more likely to make tactical adjustments mid-match, too. When I went up against "Big Sam" Allardyce and his Everton team during my career with Liverpool, he started the game in a very defensive 5-4-1, hoping to keep things tight and probably come away with a hard-fought draw. When I breached his wall of defenders after a few minutes, however, he switched things up, shifted some of his midfielders further up the pitch, and stuck another striker on to try to score an equaliser. Stuff like this makes match days more involved than ever. There's just more ingenuity spread throughout the pitch, and that edges the simulation ever closer to reality.
Legacy issues do still persist, however. The conversation system--whether it's with individual players, the press, or in team talks--is relatively untouched, so you'll still be choosing the same options you've had for the past few years. Tactics are also in need of a grand overhaul. The mixture of shouts and player roles the series has been using for a few iterations now is certainly serviceable, but at this point, it feels far too rigid and restrictive. Say you want to utilize a double pivot between your two central midfielders or deploy the type of structured pressing Jurgen Klopp and Roger Schmidt use so effectively--there's no easy way to do either of these things. You can try various workarounds in an attempt to mimic something that regularly happens in real-world football, but even then, it's never going to be perfectly accurate.
The tactical side of Football Manager would benefit from giving you more control over how your team functions, especially during specific phases of play--perhaps letting you fluidly shift from one formation to another depending on whether your team has the ball or not. Against Real Madrid in this year's Spanish Supercup, new Sevilla manager Jorge Sampaoli did exactly that. By deploying a 4-2-3-1 formation while in possession and altering to a 3-4-2-1 without it, Sevilla managed to effectively stifle the Galacticos attack for much of the game, while still maintaining a system his team was comfortable with when they had the ball. Stuff like this just isn't possible in Football Manager, so it makes the tactical system feel outdated and behind the curve of the sport's most innovative coaching minds.
The tactical interface is also incredibly difficult to get into. Unless you want to scour the Internet for the real nitty-gritty stuff and actually read pages and pages of differing opinions to learn how everything works, it can feel like you're shooting in the dark. This could be rectified somewhat if the game offered more feedback on your tactics--with staff members providing information on what instructions clash with one another or tips on how to prevent the types of goals you've been conceding--but you're basically left to your own devices. It's in need of reinvention. This might be tough to implement in an annualized series, but it's about time.
The perennial strengths of Football Manager are stronger than ever, yet it's the furtive improvements to the match engine that really set Football Manager 2017 apart from its immediate predecessor.
And that last part is pertinent, because on the whole, Football Manager 2017 is a lot better about presenting you with digestible information than its predecessors ever were. Now you consistently receive clear, concise reports from your backroom staff that significantly speeds up the process of actually playing the game. They'll come to you with reports on training and scouting, as well as players they think you should praise or tutor. In the past, you'd have to sift through pages and pages of information to make these kinds of decisions, but now it's only one or two clicks away. Tasks that you would have previously neglected because you just couldn't be bothered, or because you simply overlooked them, are now easily performed. It makes your job as a manager much more streamlined. These aspects of the game might not be anything new, but these refinements are wholly appreciated.
In terms of new features, there are only a few that stand out, and they're mostly shallow and inconsequential. There is one outlier, however. Brexit--everyone's favorite apocalyptic buzzword--stands apart as being a more meaningful addition than most because it alters the landscape of world football if it's randomly enacted during your game. This is most keenly felt in the British leagues, of course, as work permits for foreign players become increasingly harder to come by, limits are imposed on squad selection, and the Premier League's bundles of money are sapped out. It might prove frustrating, especially if you're forced to disassemble a multinational squad, but to ignore a real-world event with such far-reaching consequences would be a disservice.
The inclusion of social media is decidedly less profound, but it does at least allow you to keep an eye on notable events happening across the world of football. As it pertains to you and your club, however, the finite depository of fan reactions soon gets repetitive, with the same happy, angry, and indifferent responses repeated over and over again, no matter the situation. You'd think everyone would be overjoyed when an 18-year-old scores a hat trick in his debut, but I guess there's no pleasing some people.
Similarly forgettable is a more robust (and I use that word lightly) creation suite. There are more sliders and hair options, and you can import a picture of your face (or anybody else's) to slap on the default character model. But for the rare occasions when you actually catch a glimpse of your manager, this is a feature hardly worth mentioning. I should, however, acknowledge a few of the new wrinkles that crop up during Football Manager 2017's regular structure. Across multiple saves I've seen some abnormally high-scoring games: Tottenham beating Arsenal 8-2 (like that would ever happen) or Barcelona smashing Atletico Madrid 7-3, along with the usual 5-0s and 6-4s that seem to appear on a near-weekly basis. These aren't game-breaking, but they do break the immersion nonetheless--as do the sheer number of managerial sackings. There were seven during my first season in the Premier League (most notably Manchester City's Pep Guardiola), despite the fact that there were only six games left to go in the season. Apparently battling for fourth place wasn't good enough.
Football Manager 2017 is not a game of revolution, but one of refinement. Transfers are smarter and more involved, and the faster player development and the aforementioned streamlining of information are welcome. The perennial strengths of Football Manager are stronger than ever, yet it's the furtive improvements to the match engine that really set Football Manager 2017 apart from its immediate predecessor. Sure, I still have gripes with the tactical interface, and there isn't anything new there worth writing about. But if your rear end has ever been entrenched in the virtual dugout or you're just a fresh-faced hopeful looking to begin your journey, Football Manager 2017 is easy to recommend to the budding manager.
Pokemon Sun and Moon, the latest iteration in the 20-year-old monster-battling franchise, provides some of the biggest and most welcome changes to the series yet. While the story is disappointing, the core catch-'em-all gameplay shows how the simple concept of "capture Pokemon, level up Pokemon, and beat the crap out of other people's Pokemon" has endured for two decades.
In my review in progress, I detailed how changes to the game's mechanics create a more streamlined, approachable, and fun experience compared to previous iterations. Sun and Moon removes most of the need for memorizing Pokemon types and mentally tracking the paper-scissors-rock matchups that define the game's combat. Traversing the world is more manageable thanks to a detailed map on the 3DS' bottom screen. And abilities like Fly, Surf, and Rock Smash have been replaced entirely with a new Pokemon Pager system. Now when you come upon an obstacle in the game world, you can summon the Pokemon you need to keep going (provided you've unlocked that ability on your pager).
Sun and Moon is a triumph for the series on both a gameplay and visual level. The beautiful Hawaii-inspired Alola setting pops with color and little details. Trainers you fight hang out in the background of the battle, and even the way they throw their Pokeballs before a battle accentuates their personalities--from the casual side toss of a standoffish scientist to the overhand baseball throw of an energetic grade school kid. And you're no longer on quite the same linear quest of finding and fighting eight gym leaders with a stop-off near the end to catch a legendary Pokemon and save the world. This time, you're a newcomer to an island paradise with various trials you have to overcome, four Kahuna trainers to fight...and a brief interlude to catch a legendary Pokemon and save the world.
The trials take the place of previous games' gyms, with tasks such as gathering ingredients for a Pokemon-luring recipe rather than just battles against other trainers. Then each trial culminates in a battle against a powered-up Pokemon called a Totem Pokemon. As a reward for completing the trials, you earn Z-crystals, which unlock super-powered Z-move abilities for each Pokemon type. But as exciting as that sounds, the crystals ultimately feel like an unnecessary addition. Much like the Trials themselves, they become less involved further into the game--eventually becoming a series of battles against individual Pokemon. And the rewards feel a lot less special when later characters just give you crystals or you find the gems scattered around the world. And while the Z-move animations are impressive the first couple times, going through the same long sequence every time you use one of the abilities gets tiresome. Even with battle animations turned off, the moves still involve over-long summoning sequences.
Z-moves are an addition you can ignore, but unfortunately Sun and Moon's biggest weakness is something you can't: the story. Sun and Moon starts out fantastically, and the changes to the established formula with Trials and Kahunas instead of Gyms lends the journey a bit of unpredictability. As with other modern Pokemon games, you have to take some time out to capture a Legendary Pokemon and save the world before you can finish your journey to become the local Pokemon master. But this detour you take to save the world before the end of the game lacks the same originality and tight pacing as the opening hours. The antagonistic Team Skull enemies you face along the way are one-dimensional and directionless, and the motivations of the central antagonist (who's revealed in a twist you see coming a mile away) are just nonsensical. The final battle in this side confrontation shifts from a confusing diatribe about cleansing the world to your enemy hating their children for not being "beautiful." This side story comes to an abrupt, unfulfilling conclusion, and you're then whisked along to the "real" game, battling the Pokemon League and becoming the greatest Pokemon trainer in Alola.
The story is boring, but it's the core collecting and battling gameplay where Sun and Moon shines anyway. And as is standard in all Pokemon games, once the credits roll, there's still a world left to explore and new Pokemon to catch. In particular, I'm intrigued by the setup of the game's Ultra Beasts--creatures that are glossed over in the main campaign, even though they play an outsized role in the side story's narrative. Sun and Moon's greatest strength is that I want to stay in Alola and see how (and if) the game's other mysteries unfold.
For better and worse, Sun and Moon is essentially the same Pokemon experience that comes out every few years, just with enhancements to make it feel more modern. But this an entry that should appeal to more than just the series' devoted fanbase who'll notice those details. For players who have loved or been interested in the franchise before, but who felt that the growing roster and feature set made it too unapproachable, Sun and Moon is like meeting a long-lost friend again. And for everyone else, Sun and Moon is the perfect game for understanding what makes Pokemon so popular.
Dragon Quest Builders serves as the jumping-off point for a new tale in a new period using an old setting--the storied land of Alefgard from the first Dragon Quest. It's an alternate reality that begins where the original game ends, but with a twist: the hero from the first game didn't defeat the Dragonlord. No prior knowledge of the series is required, but having a familiarity with the its jingles and diverse bestiary helps to invoke a strong sense of nostalgia
Given that the world-crafting genre is uncharted territory for Dragon Quest, Square Enix was wise to make the tutorial equal parts concise and informative. This allows you to start building within minutes of launching the game, and it's satisfying to get the hang of building complete houses, crafting items, and surviving the Alefgardian wilderness. A seemingly menial task like bricklaying is made easy when it only takes one button to set the brick above, below, or at head level. Moreover, the process of upgrading a wall with higher-quality bricks works in one convenient, single-input motion.
It's almost as easy as adapting to Dragon Quest Builders' combat, which isn't as frenetic as fighting in Dragon Quest Heroes--but it moves more quickly than the main series' turn-based battles. This orientation period also showcases the game's heavy emphasis on RPG-inspired questing. Building a bathhouse feels less like a chore when there's a checkmark, a congratulatory jingle, and a grateful NPC who has a reward for you.
Supporting Dragon Quest Builders' story and its objective-intensive draw is a foundation built on 30 years of franchise nostalgia. No, you can't explore settings in later mainstream installments like Zenithia (seen in Dragon Quest IV, V, and VI) or Dragon Quest VIII's Trodain. Still, coming across familiar monsters, such as metal slimes, and well-known items like chimaera wings, will make any Dragon Quest fan smile. It's surprising how well all these elements--running the gamut from the music to the bestiary--have been adapted to this malleable world. Enemies drop crafting ingredients rather than experience. Energy from digging is replenished by eating food. The overworld, as revealed by the camera positioned way up high, won't show the original 1986 map, but the blocky art style will resonate with old-school JRPG enthusiasts.
It's not Alefgard as we've known it, but it's no less inviting--thanks to the familiar aesthetics and the classic low-level enemies who litter the land near your town. Exploring simply for the sake of it isn't time wasted here. Going off in one direction can yield a wealth of resources for crafting items. The only variable that would devalue any free-roaming excursion is when you've maxed out your capacity for an item type--a tough task, since you can carry 99 of something.
Even though the world's terrain is open to manipulation, the maps remain faithful to classic JRPG world design. For example, the farther you venture from civilization, the more likely you'll run into tougher enemies. The journey to a quest destination is seldom a straight line, as Alefgard presents myriad distractions, often with worthwhile rewards. The forests, deserts, and towers have their share of obscured secrets--the kind you often reveal by swiveling the camera. It's doubly rewarding when using visual clues to hunt for treasure underground and inside mountains. A missing block or a brick that looks out of place can be a hint to a nearby prize, such as a useful set of 25 windows for your future buildings.
Advance through the story enough, and all manner of slime and golem will turn the tables and perform a siege operation against your town. You and your comrades work to protect all four sides of your base while you reinforce the perimeter with barriers and automated fire-breathing gargoyle statues. In other words, Dragon Quest Builders plays like a tower defense game at times, putting a delightful twist on the popular genre. You're defending a square area rather than a winding route, and not all of your support options are stationary; this only enhances the diversity of activities in a game that throws plenty of goals at you.
Invasions can do significant damage to your towns, and even if the resources to rebuild are plentiful, repairing your inns and workhouses can be time-consuming; but you can avoid this process altogether if you wish. Dragon Quest Builders' Free-Play mode saves you the grief of hostile monsters and offers more peaceful islands where you can get your architectural juices flowing.
Dragon Quest Builders is full of opportunities to take breaks from questing and defending your town. The franchise's endearing aesthetic, defined by Akira Toriyama's character designs, can make the simple process of building and designing rooms around town fly by. To customize an inn, you need simply place a torch, and get to work laying out beds and other furniture as you wish. Although you can share your personalized building creations, it's not possible to visit your friends' worlds. It's also disappointing that there's no cross-save support between the PS4 and Vita versions, despite the fact that they feature the same content.
The excellence of Dragon Quest Builders illustrates the versatility of this 30-year-old franchise as much as it speaks to the engrossing appeal of Minecraft-inspired creation. The story-advancing draw of quests goes hand-in-hand with the depth of a crafting system that cleverly uses monster drops as some of the game's building tools. Whether you want to focus on completing assignments or build with no specific purpose, the game is feature-rich enough to suck up untold hours, even if this happens to be your first Dragon Quest experience.
I have to hand it to Dragon Ball Xenoverse 2 for tapping into the latent dreams of people who spent their teenage years drawing Goku on their notebooks. A lot of games offer the ability to create an original character and take part in an established fictional universe, but most of them don't allow you to feel like what you're doing impacts the already pre-determined narrative world in any way.
Xenoverse 2, meanwhile, allows you to participate directly in some of the series' most crucial battles, "fixing" anomalies in time to set the stories of the Z Fighters on the correct path. It's like somebody at Bandai Namco realized how fulfilling it would be to be able to play out that one fanfiction you wrote when you were 13 involving your favorite character's long-lost twin brother.
OK, maybe Dragon Ball Xenoverse 2 doesn't go quite that far, but it's still a pretty fantastic concept: You get to make a custom Dragon Ball character in one of five of the series' main races (Human, Saiyan, Namekian, Frieza's race, and Majin) and join the Time Patrol, a collection of colorful heroes who gather in Conton City and are dedicated to the preservation of the Dragon Ball Z timeline. Under the guidance of the Supreme Kai of Time, your characters will travel across the sprawling timeline of the anime and manga series, looking for things that a set of time-traveling villains have meddled with and setting them right. Generally, this involves a lot of the energy-amassing, ki-blasting, and high-flying fights for which the series is known--though not always.
The adventure encompasses a single-player story campaign that takes you through most of the DBZ saga (with a few extra twists, thanks to a crew of shady villains and resurrected classic foes), a whole mess of optional Parallel Quests that can be taken on either single-player or online, or a different set of single-player side quests. The latter has you doing things like fighting for a faction in Frieza's army or training to be the next Great Saiyaman,and training sessions with DBZ heroes and villains that can teach you new skills. To round things out, you can play multiplayer fights versus the CPU, local friends, or online opponents. Suffice to say, Xenoverse 2 is jam-packed with both on and offline content.
Of course, it doesn't really matter how much content there is if the game isn't fun to play. Fortunately, Xenoverse 2 has a solid--if not particularly deep--fighting engine that provides a good foundation for the rest of the game to build upon. The controls feel solid and responsive, and the default button layout allows easy access to all your normal and special attacks, as well as crucial guarding and dodging maneuvers when necessary. You can customize your warrior with special gear, helpful consumable items, and a set of combat skills you purchase, acquire in quests, or learn through personal training. By equipping a custom loadout and using the special abilities innate to each individual race, you'll develop a fighter that both looks and fights the way you like in a way that feels fun and rewarding.
By equipping a custom loadout and using the special abilities innate to each individual race, you'll develop a fighter that both looks and fights the way you like in a way that feels fun and rewarding.
One of the game's big selling points is the size and feel of its hub city, Conton. Here, you can go shopping for gear at a bevy of stores, interact with online players and NPCs, and see a bunch of favorite Dragon Ball faces. You can get around town on foot, with Capsule Corporation machines, or--eventually--via flight. However, a lot of times, the hub's massive size feels like a detriment. It's a chore to go from place to place when they all seem so far away from each other; at least there's a fast travel option.
Conton City is just a small part of the copious fanservice this game delivers to fans of the franchise, however. Xenoverse 2's visuals are stunning, particularly in the in-engine cutscenes during story sequences. Characters are rendered to an uncanny resemblance, and the attention to detail seen in the various locales is equally impressive. The action runs at a smooth 60 frames per second, making the fights feel fast and dynamic.
Beyond the visuals, however, the games includes a lot of fun little jokes and exchanges between various characters that fans will appreciate. Bringing certain characters to specific Parallel Quest battles can result in some funny dialogue that reference events in the anime or amusing "what if" scenarios. It helps add to the feeling of being an active part of a big, fictional universe that the game captures well--even if, for some bizarre reason, the English voiceover varies from the subtitles shown on-screen, which happens peculiarly often.
Eventually, though, the game's overall grind will start to wear on you. The lack of depth in combat can make things feel repetitive, and while changing up your loadout can help freshen things up a bit, it doesn't change up the base gameplay significantly. The game will sometimes try to shake things up by giving you missions with different objectives beyond just beating up your opponents, such as finding the Dragon Balls in a level and keeping them away from pursuing enemies.
Lag can be a bit of an issue if you want to battle with or against online fighters, though it's seen some improvement with a recent patch.
These stages are usually a miserable experience, though, since the game's engine doesn't seem built for much beyond combat and very basic exploration. (The camera isn't exactly your friend when you need to find small objects in big, open combat arenas, either.) It's more fun to play quests online with a group of other warriors, though not all quests can be tackled this way--story mode is strictly single-player only. Lag can be a bit of an issue if you want to battle with or against online fighters, though it's seen some improvement with a recent patch.
Dragon Ball Xenoverse 2 is among the best games to emerge from this beloved franchise. It looks stunning, has a solid gameplay base, and gives people who love the series a way to feel like they're a part of this big, beautiful universe. Though it has its share of problems, I was really surprised at how much fun I had with it. I might not be the die-hard Dragon Ball fan that many others are, but I can tell through the exquisite attention to detail and the wealth of content that the folks behind Xenoverse cherished the series every bit as much as the fans they're selling it to.
Any time I'm given a choice between stealth and action, I go stealth. I love the hold-your-breath tension of hoping a guard didn't spot you and the hard-earned triumph of executing a perfectly timed plan. Dishonored 2 delivers that sneaky satisfaction, arming you with stealth essentials like hiding bodies, peering through keyholes, and silent takedowns. But it's also an incredible engine for gleeful chaos, one so engrossing and amusing that I kind of accidentally beat the entire campaign raining hilarious, elaborate death on my enemies.
I kicked people through skylights, blasted them off seaside cliffs, lured them into bottlenecks and watched as my carefully placed shrapnel mine shredded them. At one point, I got murdered badly, so I reloaded a recent quicksave, shot a guard with incendiary bolt, and blew up another four with one grenade when they ran to help. Sadistic? Yes. But also incredibly satisfying from a gameplay standpoint. Moments like that happen frequently in Dishonored 2 because it's as much a toy box as it is a game. It's meant to be experimented with. It rewards and even demands creativity.
This was true of the first game, and it's true here as well, mainly because the sequel simply takes the original formula and builds on it. You'll find more ways to engage enemies without killing them, like nonlethal drop attacks and parries that stun opponents momentarily, allowing you to grab them and choke them out. There are new weapons and gadgets, including crossbow bolts that blind enemies or send them sprinting in a chemical-induced madness. Weapons can be upgraded in new ways, so your starter pistol can eventually be modded into a semi-auto hand cannon with explosive, ricocheting rounds.
And most importantly, there's an entirely new protagonist with her own set of powers. You can still play as classic hero Corvo and enjoy all his original supernatural abilities like pausing time and possessing rodents, but Empress Emily Kaldwin offers some exciting new choices, most notably Domino: All marked targets suffer the same fate, so knocking one unconscious puts them all out, for example. Emily can also hypnotize enemies with Mesmerize and become a moving shadow with Shadow Walk. She can even mimic Corvo's signature teleportation ability with Far Reach. Much like the weaponry, the diverse and inventive mechanics inherent in these powers turn the gameplay in a joyful cycle of experimentation and reward. Nearly all can be used in a variety of ways--lethal and nonlethal, straightforward and unconventional--to accommodate whatever strategy you happen to hatch.
Part of what makes the experimentation fun is the fact that your enemies are genuinely threatening, which makes cleverly dispatching them feel that much more empowering. They parry, dodge, flank, kick you away, even throw rocks to keep you off balance, and they never relent. Rather than telegraphing their attacks or waiting patiently for you to strike them, they just come at you, which both gets your adrenaline pumping and makes your one-hit-kill counterattacks feel earned. Even if you ignore your supernatural assassin skills and focus purely on swordplay, Dishonored gives you plenty of options, including sprinting slide tackles and combo-driven executions.
And if you're a stealth player, enemies are aware enough to present a real challenge, frequently breaking from the "preset pattern" behavior observable in many stealth games. Tricks that might not draw attention in other games get noticed here. Guards remember, for example, that another guard was standing nearby a moment ago. Rather than shrug off the absence, they'll either investigate or jump straight to sounding the alarm. This definitely creates a bit of a learning curve; you can't sloppily run and fight everyone and expect to get far. I had to play for a few hours before I really started to understand and enjoy the game--though the payoff for that upfront investment proved substantial.
The experience may be demanding overall, but weirdly, the campaign doesn't really grow more challenging as you progress. You'd think you'd face new, more intricate scenarios or larger numbers of tougher enemies, but that's not really the case. Unexpected new enemies types do emerge, but feel underutilized, as they're limited to certain levels and areas. By the end, I actually felt overpowered because the game never demanded more of me. Messing around with the mechanics is a lot more fun if you're presented with varied scenarios that force you to be skilled, clever, or creative enough to succeed. Removing the challenge undercuts some of the fun. Dishonored does such a stellar job of consistently adding new gameplay elements, it's a shame that never culminated in a grand, all-encompassing challenge.
Much like the weaponry, the diverse and inventive mechanics inherent in these powers turn the gameplay in a joyful cycle of experimentation and reward.
The story also doesn't evolve much over the course of the campaign. The original game opened with a bloody power grab that sent you on a quest for vengeance; the plot here is essentially identical, just with most cryptic occult gibberish. You're primarily still tracking down and murdering a series of people, and your motivation for the entire ordeal hinges on a single rushed scene at the very beginning of the game. Ultimately, the plotline is fine, but the delivery proves lackluster. Contrary to the gameplay, the storytelling holds your hand, bombarding you with heavy-handed exposition. You character constantly states the obvious in game, then narrates their exact thoughts and feelings over motion comics between missions. I frequently felt like I was just being told stuff rather than living and participating in an active story.
Still, Dishonored's world is undeniably intriguing thanks mainly to its vaguely steampunk aesthetic and the tangible history hidden in every detail. The characters you encounter are, by and large, interesting and well developed, and the expansive areas you visit feel alive and burst with unique details. Areas are larger than those found in the previous and seem much bigger than they really are--a welcome illusion that makes the world feel more believable. There's also plenty of side content to uncover in the hub areas, from unearthing backstory to finding the one ultra clever way to break into a fortified black market shop. And of course, you'll constantly be hunting for hidden runes, a process that takes up just as much (if not more) time as the core gameplay. Some are obvious, some are cleverly hidden, some are excruciatingly frustrating, but you're forced to find them because they fuel the progression system.
Most impressively, individual missions frequently distinguish themselves by offering a unique gameplay hook. There's a mission late in the game that involves time manipulation and might be one of the most unforgettable standalone missions in any game ever. It is masterpiece unto itself. There's also the intricate, mind-bending clockwork mansion, which turns the entire level into a giant Rubik's cube. And just like before, you can find elaborate, story-driven ways to "eliminate" every major target without actually killing them.
If you use your powers creatively and judiciously, you can be in complete control. It feels exceptionally empowering, especially since when you mess up, you realize your enemies really are smart and powerful enough to kill you quickly. Dishonored 2 might lack challenge in its later levels, but the basic tools are a joy to play with regardless. And with two characters and two basic play styles to choose from--both of which noticeably impact the story and the world as you go--there's a lot of longevity to be wrung from the campaign. It's an incredible shame you can't restart the campaign with all your powers intact once you beat the game, but you can, at least, bring up old saves, adjust the difficulty, and see what unfolds.
Being evil is not a new concept to role-playing games, but Tyranny takes playing the bad guy further than I've ever seen before. While I've sided with demons, robbed innocents, and even slaughtered many a bystander just because I felt like it in other RPGs, the nasty stuff is taken to another level in Obsidian Entertainment's latest opus. How wicked is it? Well, at one point I was encouraged to murder an infant by the tyke's own grandfather, no less. At another, I was given the option of tossing a captive off a tower to deliver a message to friends far below. I even got to listen to a soldier ally tell me how much his parents would be proud of him if they could see him now... right after he recounted how he had to murder them both to achieve his present position.
Such atrocities would qualify Tyranny as one of the most disconcerting games of the year all on their own. But what really sets this game apart from the crowd is that you play more of a cog in a machine instead of the usual capital-V villain. The old Hannah Arendt phrase about the Nazi banality of evil ran through my mind constantly as I played through the campaign, doing my bloody duty over and over again to prop up a conquering empire. Yet even though I found all of this deeply unsettling, the mature and realistic handling of the dark side of humanity drew me into what has to be one of the most thought-provoking games that I've played in ages. The game makes it all too easy to relate to evil acts, as the typically bleak circumstances depicted herein frequently make atrocities seem necessary. You're often killing to expand the locked-down order of your empire and avoid more bloodletting and chaos, so even the most heinous actions somehow come off like justice being served. It's only when you look back at what you've done that you realize how monstrous you've become in service to the idea of, well, a tyranny. Add in stellar roleplaying depth, constant opportunities to make decisions that affect the entire game world, and brilliant tactical combat mechanics, and you've got one of the best RPGs of this--or any other--year.
The setting is the fantasy realm of Terratus, which has been wracked by war for centuries due to the ambitions of the monstrous Overlord Kyros. This enigmatic immortal never actually appears in the game, but she (or he, as nobody even knows if the tyrant is female or male) looms over everything as kind of a cruel god that has steadily conquered the entire world. As befits the game's malicious leanings, you take on the role of one of Kyros' top servants, a freelance judge and executioner called a Fatebinder. First up on your docket is looking into the brewing civil war between factions in the Overlord's squabbling army, a dispute causing problems in the effort to subjugate the last free refuge on the map. Kyros has grown so tired of the delays that she fires off a spell that places the entire region under a curse that will kill everyone in the area if the enemy citadel isn't captured within a week.
Heavy story development gives even more weight to everything that you do. Politics are paramount, and fear is the one constant motivator. Kyros' chief lieutenants are demigod-like figures called Archons who wield incredible power within their own spheres of influence--and are, of course, constantly jockeying for position with the boss. You directly serve the Archon of Justice, Tunon the Adjudicator, but are also heavily involved with two others. Graven Ashe leads the military fanatics in the Disfavored, while The Voices of Nerat command a psychotic gang of rapists and murderers called The Scarlet Chorus. Most of Tyranny sees you bouncing between these two sides, choosing whether or not to align yourself with one or the other depending upon the circumstance and personal choice.
And there are a lot of choices to make. Tyranny is loaded with meaningful dialogue, and the options you select have an immediate impact on the people, factions, and even the land around you. Everything is so responsive that the game feels like a Choose Your Own Adventure novel. The game actually begins exactly like one of those books--you decide on courses of action in the prologue that can be used to set up the world differently for each campaign. Whatever you decide to do and say during this opening makes a huge difference. At one point, you select between burning a magical library to the ground with no warning to the inhabitants or giving them advance notice of the coming arson so that they can flee. Choose the latter option, as I did, and the those inside are nicer and even compliment you for your mercy when you show up there later in the game.
Choices carry even more weight once the proper story gets underway. I don't think I've ever played an RPG packed with so many personal choices, most of which can be seen to dramatically change the world at large. Just about every other comment you make causes a reaction. Be too harsh with a party member, and that will increase his or her fear of you. Play the nice guy, and you build up loyalty. Act the same way when it comes to a faction, and you engender loyalty or wrath. Too much of either approach with the Disfavored and the Scarlet Chorus, and you'll inevitably form an alliance with one and develop enmity with the other.
Most of your choices also have a moral dimension to them that rarely involve black-and-white situations. While you can act like a serial killer and slaughter people for kicks, most of the time you're stuck right in the middle of that good old banality of evil. Decisions pop up out of nowhere all the time. You run across criminals being escorted to an execution and are asked to make a ruling on their fate. You have to make hard calls about how to best reach quest goals, solve dilemmas that often come down to deciding if you should take the easy route and kill people or look for more creative solutions. Not much here is clear cut. The game includes few (if any) good guys, so sometimes murder is the more sensible option to keep the peace and leave fewer problems for yourself down the road (yes, the game is a downer; heck, even the soundtrack is pretty much one long moan). These ethical predicaments don't exactly add up to Nietzsche, but they still made me think a lot more than I would during a typical RPG.
This is a unique experience that makes you think about human nature, morality, and what role mercy and compassion should (or even could) play in a centuries-old war.
Which side you lean toward has a big influence on how your campaign plays out. I wound up siding with the Disfavored choosing the Lawful Evil path of these medieval fascists instead of the crazed Chaotic Evil of the rampaging Blood Chorus. I enjoyed this alliance, although it left me wondering what my game would have been like if I'd given in to bloodlust. As a result, I was constantly planning out what I would do in my next playthrough, which bodes well for replay value. It would probably take a good two or three plays to even come close to seeing everything the game has to offer.
Tyranny is a spiritual successor to Obsidian's last RPG effort, 2015's Pillars of Eternity, and this game uses the same general engine and interface. As expected, it's loaded with role-playing depth (as well as gorgeous spell effects and detailed background art). Characters are not bound to set D&D-style classes. Instead, you freeform it by boosting core abilities every time you level up and select options from extensive skill trees that cover all manner of specialties from might to magic. An innovative (if fussy) rune system governs how you research and learn spells. Many of these incantations are a bit out of the ordinary--and a bit sadistic. Fire magic causes inflamed foes to scream horribly for mercy, and other spells like the ability to place a water bubble on the head of a victim, drowning him in the open air, perfectly match the ghastly nature of the overall game.
Combat is equally captivating, although it always takes a backseat to the storytelling. This is a long way from a hack-and-slasher, but the traditional Baldur's Gate-style tactical approach used here relies on a pausable real-time engine to provide tense battles. Tyranny doesn't include the ludicrous mob scenes that hampered and dragged out Pillars of Eternity, either. Most scraps are short, nasty affairs with no more than a handful of baddies. Thinking strategically is often a necessity in these fights, although the party AI is so good (especially when it comes to spellcasters) that you don't need to micromanage too often. I actually left the AI on a lot of the time to help me sail through most battles. The difficulty is also nearly perfectly balanced on the default setting, with battles steadily scaling up until you hit the challenging boss fights at the end of the game.
Some aspects of the game feel overly convoluted or unnecessary. Every NPC seems to come with about 10 minutes worth of dialogue, much of which serves little purpose aside from adding color to the game world. Three different values of currency are used here, for no apparent reason. Most items have been given such a wide range of stats that it's difficult to compare them on the fly. I'm all for +2 swords and the like, but not bronze swords accompanied by a half-dozen numbers rating their damage per second, parry and accuracy ratings, recovery time, and so forth. Some frills are barely used. I didn't understand the point of the missives section where you could send off letters seeking advice from other Fatebinders. Being able to conquer and set up magical spires as bases of operation with special buildings to research spells, make weapons, and train characters, also didn't seem all that necessary. I took them over pretty easily, but then only used them afterward when the plot demanded it.
Tyranny also isn't quite as wide open as you might expect. The game is brief in comparison with many other traditional RPGs. I got through the campaign in under 25 hours, despite taking a lot of time to read through dialogue and complete most of the side quests. Such brevity is good in some ways, allowing for a tight focus on the story and linear maps that get right to the point. But the story ends too soon and too abruptly, stranding you without a fulfilling climax. Just when you think you're gearing up for a final showdown, the game simply stops and presents you with clips recounting what you did during your adventure and letting you know what the future holds for both the realm and your companions. It feels like the game was chopped in half at the last minute, so you can probably expect DLC or a full sequel to arrive in short order.
Evil may be banal, but Tyranny is not. While I have some personal misgivings over how much I enjoyed such a twisted, unscrupulous game, this is a unique experience that makes you think about human nature, morality, and what role mercy and compassion should (or even could) play in a centuries-old war. It reaches beyond the standard heroic fantasy RPG where you slay monsters and save the kingdom, inverting that familiar story and setting and creating something utterly different--and somewhat depressingly realistic.
In Call of Duty: Infinite Warfare, the ease of traveling to space is as simple as pulling out of the driveway. This moment, in all its science-fictionalized spectacle, is emblematic of the rest of the campaign. The game's indelible cast has little time to be impressed with advanced technologies; they're too busy fighting an intergalactic war. This story is Infinite Warfare's showpiece--a rare, finely constructed Call of Duty tale that manages to outshine its multiplayer counterparts, including a highly involving Zombies cooperative mode.
Infinite Warfare's campaign kicks off with a classic sci-fi trope: Earth's dwindling resources motivates and drives humanity to colonize other worlds, but colonization and time give rise to an off-world insurgency. The version of this group in Infinite Warfare--dubbed the Settlement Defense Front--takes an aggressive approach, restricting the earthbound forces' resources with blockades while also racing them to colonize new moons and planets. When you take the controls as protagonist Nick Reyes, you promptly experience the savagery of the SDF firsthand. After the initial dust settles, Reyes undergoes a trial by fire when he's suddenly promoted and given command of his own ship, both while continuing to repel the SDF threat.
These events reveal Reyes as a vulnerable leader, one who is prone to moments of apprehension or regret. The campaign only lasts five to seven hours, but Infinite Warfare's writers manage to craft meaningful characters with depth that rivals any from the Modern Warfare series. There's Nora Salter, Reyes' dependable ally who, up until recently, was the same rank as Reyes. Another example is chief engineer Audrey MaCallum, who appears for only a few minutes but manages to make the most of her limited screen time. As an ex-captain, she shares her poignant backstory, explaining how she gave up her commission by committing the mortal sin of caring for her crew. Caring and sacrifice are overarching themes that play into this story's key moments.
This sci-fi tale doesn't have any aliens, but its standout character isn't human. ETH.3n (pronounced Ethan), a robotic naval petty officer, represents a new definition of a perfect military warrior: a strong, dependable teammate who can also soften a tense moment. He proves handy in every firefight, but his greatest gift is his wit. He jokes about having a farmer's brain and makes light of the rivalry between the Navy and Marines. At his best, he sounds uncannily human.
Ethan is also your co-pilot and introduces you to Infinite Warfare's exquisite spacecraft combat. Dubbed the Jackals, the game's highly maneuverable ships cast a silhouette reminiscent of an F-22 Raptor stealth fighter. It's a thrill to chase targets through tight gaps and around columns. The most intense moments occur when enemies match your level of agility and aggression, forcing you to try to shake them off with sharp turns and salvos of diversionary flares. Call of Duty games have always had vehicles, but it's hard to recall one as involving and unforgettable as Infinite Warfare's.
Many military-shooter campaigns are designed with a persistent--sometimes forced--sense of urgency. There's more nuance to Infinite Warfare's flow, where the pressure of an ongoing war maintains the sensation of forward momentum without feeling rushed. Moreover, its writers are wise to avoid the restrictive structure of chapter breaks. While this campaign features clearly defined missions at distinct planetary destinations, the story plays out more like a long film than a 13-episode cable series. One key ingredient to this cohesion and the narrative's invisible pull to press forward is minimal presence of loading screens. This benefit is accentuated in missions where you seamlessly transition from the Jackal to zero-G combat to on-foot shootouts.
Infinite Warfare does not shy away from the cruel indifference of space. I winced at the effectiveness of sending a dozen foes into the vacuum by simply destroying a large nearby window or grappled myself to a string of enemies, cycling through the five or so fatal takedown animations (e.g. cracking the glass of their helmets, activating their grenades before kicking them away). Any momentary sense of guilt was forgotten when I remembered the SDF's unforgivable actions during the story's initial hour.
There's more nuance to Infinite Warfare's flow, where the pressure of an ongoing war maintains the sensation of forward momentum without feeling rushed.
The campaign's side missions, while skippable, elevate the overall experience of the single-player mode. Some of these sorties feature the campaign's most memorable assignments, such as an assassination plot where you're disguising yourself as an SDF soldier. The mission partners Reyes with Salter, and the appeal is as much about his banter with the lieutenant as it is about a satisfying opportunity to eliminate some high-level SDF officials. This optional section of the campaign also lets you log additional flight time since half the missions are Jackal operations. Given the limited opportunities to pilot the ship in the main missions, it's a joy to partake in additional dogfights and find ways to sink destroyers, often single-handedly.
The profoundly hostile nature of space is, unfortunately, not something that can be found in multiplayer. It's disappointing to miss out on the thrill of zero-G combat in a competitive online environment, especially when games like Star Wars Battlefront and Strike Vector affirm its appeal. What you have instead are the usual tournament-ready modes, a familiar playlist of match types that take no chances on new ideas. Defender is Infinite Warfare's version of Halo's keep-away game, Oddball, where it's often more stimulating to defend the ball carrier than be the ball carrier. And Kill Confirmed once again proves its worth as an alternative to team deathmatch – you must run to the spot where your target was killed and grab their dog tag for your kill to count, giving nearby enemies an equal opportunity to beat you to that dog tag--or worse, kill you and steal your tag as well. The result? Tense micro tug-of-wars that you can't find in classic team deathmatch.
The new online battlegrounds are, unsurprisingly, inspired by environments found in the single-player mode but include a few exclusive locales, like a small Japanese urban center. Much like prior Call of Duty competitive maps, it only takes a few sessions to get the lay of the land, discern the best sniping spots, and discover high-traffic areas. Even the wall-running points are easy to commit to memory. As with the last two Call of Dutys, using walls can give you an edge in avoiding gunfire and catching ground enemies off guard. There's elegance in the simplicity of the maps, although they lack imaginative design, partly due to an overabundance of right angles.
Multiplayer's mid-match and profile progression rely on a classic reward loop that recognizes skill--and the devotion to play matches for hours on end. That includes the return of the UAV, an assault drone that can wreak havoc and rack up substantial kills during a single flyby. Two new notable unlocks, depending on which class you select, are the Eraser--a gun that vaporizes its target instantly--and the Claw, which fires a horizontal rain of ricocheting bullets. These enhancements are welcome bonuses that add variety to the matches and are even useful in the hands of novice players eager to increase their kill count.
Tied to these bonuses are the Rigs, Infinite Warfare's multiplayer classes. Rigs expands on the traditional FPS class archetypes where Stryker serves as the Support class while Phantom is the Scout. Warfighter mirrors the Assault class and it's supported in the frontlines with the high-tech FTL class and the Synaptic robot experienced in close quarters combat. Collectively, these class variants do not add anything substantially new to the matches though they're each worth checking out, even if their roles might fall outside your comfort zone.
Zombies is an amusing contrast to Infinite Warfare's campaign in that this cooperative multiplayer mode is once again bereft of subtlety. It's a caricature of the 1980s, down to the neon-heavy art direction and a rapper in a tracksuit as one of the playable characters. The map and backdrop to these visuals is 'Spaceland,' a futuristically-styled theme park. It is the first of a number of planned Zombies maps for Infinite Warfare, designed as movie settings by a fictional film director named Willard Wyler. In keeping with the '80s motif, Wyler's voiced by Paul Reubens (best known as Pee-wee Herman), whose sinister voice channels a hint of Vincent Price.
What this mode lacks in aesthetic nuance, it makes up for in strategic depth. Zombies presents a risk-versus-reward scenario where opening up additional sections of Spaceland as soon as possible may not always be the best strategy. New areas contain new gear and zombie traps, but you increase the amount of enemy spawn points and the risk of getting separated from your team. A common benefit to opening up new sections? The attractions that can quash zombies in high numbers, like an arcade with a lethal laser dance floor. There's a positive sense of trial-and-error when figuring out what park-expansion progression works for you and you friends.
By venturing beyond Earth--and not just to other planets, but to space itself--Call of Duty found a canvas to produce its best story in years. It reinforces the notion that a game's narrative is only as good as its characters. Given the campaign's accomplishments in space combat, it's puzzling that no effort was made to replicate its zero-G sensations in Infinite Warfare's multiplayer. Consequently, the well-crafted Zombies mode is a more attractive, time-consuming proposition for those looking to play with friends. While no Call of Duty game has matched the comprehensive excellence of Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare, the exploits of Reyes and Ethan are at least as memorable and moving as any deeds from "Soap" MacTavish and John Price during from the series' heyday.
Batman is no stranger to failures; they are the catalyst for his greatest triumphs. For that victorious moment where the Dark Knight rises, he must first be brought to his knees. Episode 3 of Batman: The Telltale Series does just this, but this time it's Bruce Wayne that's put through the wringer.
In "A New World Order," Gotham's golden boy is dragged through the mud by The Children of Arkham. At the end of Episode 2, the group's mysterious leader revealed that the Wayne empire was built on criminal activity. Bruce's father, Thomas Wayne, was not the saintly philanthropist everyone believed him to be.
Bruce Wayne on the back foot has ramifications for Batman's effectiveness
With these revelations, Bruce's legacy is tarnished and the anarchic Children of Arkham have turned the city against him. By the end of Episode 3, Telltale has all the pieces in place for a compelling comeback arc. However, it also becomes clear that the player is more of an onlooker than a participant in this story.
Asking players to make a choice between two options carries an innate tension, even more so when you're mindful that Telltale likes to hit players with consequences down the line. Instead of pushing the narrative down new paths, however, the Batman series' decisions only branch briefly before reconnecting at predefined moments, shattering the illusion that the player has a hand in guiding the story.
During the climax of Episode 2, Batman was forced to make a choice that should have had a lasting impact on the world and fallout on his relationships. It was a moment in which the player is empowered to drastically change the course of events, but in Episode 3, this decision is completely voided. Instead, events play out as if you had no involvement at all. On the one hand, certain character arcs and plot points are pillars of the Batman mythos and thus can't be altered, But on the other, the fact that Telltale motions towards subverting these long-standing tropes before pulling a bait and switch is disappointing.
The dynamic between Bruce and Selina Kyle should be noticeably different in the aftermath of that decision, but in Episode 3 their relationship has barely changed. Sure, Selina Kyle is a strong, independent character that doesn't mope or complain about being snubbed, but the consequences of Batman's decision as they relate to her are quite severe, and it's not brought up as an issue, which further diminishes the player's agency.
The fact that Telltale motions towards subverting long-standing tropes but then pulls a bait and switch is disappointing.
The feeling that player input was inconsequential lingers, which is a shame because it can preclude enjoyment of other interesting decision-making moments in Episode 3. With Bruce Wayne's reputation in tatters, the Wayne Enterprises' board of directors decides to replace him. The player is placed in situations where they can choose to be diplomatic and secure an ally on the inside or act rashly to discredit his replacement. These moments are ultimatums filled with drama, but it can be difficult shake the feeling that it doesn't matter how you respond to them since the narrative course corrects.
It also feels like the deeper exploration of Bruce Wayne that Telltale began in Episode 1 has fallen by the wayside. He's still the focus of the series, but it feels like he's a bystander in his own story. Things happen around him and he acts in the moment, but there's no emotional connection between them. The events of each episode have no lasting effect on his characterization. Sure, this is classic Bruce Wayne stoicism, but he's been portrayed that way for years and there's very little value in seeing that again.
To its credit, Telltale makes a bold decision with its villain, the leader of the Children of Arkham, whose identity is finally revealed in Episode 3. It's an unexpected twist, but at the same time, the game didn't lay the foundations for it. As a result, it lands somewhere between shocking and bemusing. But perhaps this is casting judgment prematurely, given that two episodes remain in the series. That's ample time to make good on the reveal. I'm ready and willing to be won over.
The player's input feels diminished at a time when choices are critical to Bruce's future
Although most of Episode 3 is spent in the shoes of Bruce Wayne, you also get to do some detective work as Batman. Investigation makes its return in Episode 3, having been omitted from the second episode. As in the first episode, the opportunity to comb through an environment and find clues to piece a story together is a welcome. It's an aspect of the character often diminished in the Caped Crusader's video games that is realised here in a faithful way. Having said that, the puzzles Telltale has constructed offer almost no challenge as the solutions are very obvious. Combat sequences are brief but enjoyable, leveraging drama between characters to create tension in nailing the timing of quick-time events. On PC, I did encounter some frame rate drops during these sequences, but it didn't have a big impact on my success.
Telltale's Batman series has passed the halfway point--and, unfortunately, Episode 3 fails to raise the stakes, present a fresh take on Bruce Wayne, or take the narrative in an interesting new direction. What started off as a series that had the potential to tell a more personal Bruce Wayne story is starting to feel like a missed opportunity. Nevertheless, Episode 3's twist does just enough to warrant seeing the series through to the end.
By their very nature, retro-inspired games are fighting an uphill battle against the nostalgia they aim to invoke. How can they form their own identity when they're partly designed to make you remember other games? After finishing Owlboy, it seems D-Pad Studio might have the answer.
For almost a decade, Owlboy has lurked behind the curtain of mainstream releases with a small-but-devout following. Looking at screenshots and videos over the years, it was always apparent that Owlboy would look and sound great, but there's so much more to love about the final product: the humor, the varied cast, the disasters that befall its otherwise bright and uplifting world, and the incredible action set-pieces that punctuate the calm found elsewhere. It's not until you break through the surface that you're blinded by Owlboy's artistic brilliance and swayed by its heartfelt story.
It begins with Otus--our muteprotagonist and the runt of his village--during a stressful dream where his professor and dark figments criticize his inadequacies and chastise his inability to speak. It's a powerful setup that endears our hero to you. Trouble brews shortly after he wakes up and concerns of pirate sightings explode into panic as a nearby metropolis comes under attack. Otus teams up with a military mechanic, Geddy, to put a stop to the pirates before their home is destroyed.
Owlboy is old-school, not just in its presentation, but also in its storytelling--there's no voice acting, and events are set in stone with nary a major decision-making opportunity in sight. The plot manages to avoid predictability, however, not only through a handful of twists, but by allowing characters to evolve throughout the course of the game. Sad moments aren't swept under the rug by unreasonable optimism--they stay with your squad and fundamentally alter their outlook on the mission and their own identity in surprising ways. There's great attention to detail in the cast's animations, which are often tailored for a specific scene, as opposed to falling back on routine reactions. Coupled with a script that's rife with emotion and nuance, Owlboy's characters feel real in your heart despite their cartoonish look.
Owlboy tackles multiple artistic themes and subjects with consistently impressive execution.
It may be a throwback of sorts, but Owlboy's visuals aren't tailored to specifically ape 8- or 16-bit graphics; it doesn't have a limited color palette, and its pixel resolution changes based on the scene at hand. When you enter wide-open spaces, the camera zooms out, chunky details shrink, and meticulously designed structures and environments take shape. In tight spaces, you're brought closer into the scene for more intimate inspection. From subterranean creatures to ancient structures, Owlboy tackles several artistic themes and subjects with consistently impressive execution. And if you have a soft spot for 2D games with multiple layers of parallax scrolling--where the background moves slower than the foreground to simulate depth--you're in for a treat.
When you first take control of Otus, darting around floating islands and chatting with other creatures makes for a pleasant experience, and while the open air and bright colors deserve some credit, it's the orchestrated soundtrack that solidifies Owlboy's shifting atmosphere and tone. Violas and flutes instill merriment at first, but this innocence is short lived; when the pirates invade, oboes drone and cellos growl to the slow beat of a heavy drum. When the dust settles and the second half of your journey kicks off, sprightly piano compositions provide a much-needed respite from the stress of a society under attack.
Your trek to the pirate's den takes you through expansive spaces and into the heart of sprawling cave systems where buccaneers and wildlife alike lie in wait. They typically bombard you with rocks and other projectiles, rarely engaging in close-quarters combat. On his own, Otus can only dash into enemies, stunning them at best. However, with the help of a handy teleportation device, he can summon one of three partners into his claws mid-flight to utilize their long-range blaster, shotgun, or webbing that can ensnare enemies and be used as a grappling hook to escape dangerous situations.
Otus is unfortunately a tad slow by default, which causes you to spam his dash move repeatedly to keep things moving along outside of combat. There's a modest upgrade system driven by collecting and turning in coins found in chests, but you're upgrading health reserves--in the form of soup canisters--and your team's weapons, not physical traits. Still, a keen eye and fast reflexes are more critical to success than any upgrades purchased during your adventure. Knowing that success comes from a show of skill rather than your ability to collect upgrades is gratifying, but you walk away from Owlboy with the sinking feeling that the equipment and upgrades in the game have unrealized potential.
Owlboy is consistently charming and surprising, and when its final act doubles down on every front, it's bittersweet to see it end.
Standard combat isn't anything special, but it never wears out its welcome thanks to deft pacing. Owlboy steadily mixes combat and exploration with measured stealth challenges, fast-paced escape sequences, and entertaining exchanges between characters. The chase/escape sequences in particular are some of the most impressive moments in the game, throwing you into a harrowing race against time in the face of tightly choreographed hazards. These scenes are challenging and filled with visual effects that add to the sense of danger, and they're overwhelming at first, but should you die, not to worry: Owlboy never truly punishes you for failure, allowing you to restart from the last room you entered.
Owlboy is consistently charming and surprising, and when its final act doubles down on every front, it's bittersweet to see it end. As you relish the outcome of the final battle and watch the closing cutscene, you can't help but reflect on the beginning of your adventure and how far the world and its inhabitants have come. You'll never be able to play Owlboy for the first time again, but the memories of its magic moments stick with you. This is more than a treat for fans of old-school games; Owlboy is a heartfelt experience that will touch anyone with an affinity for great art and storytelling.
If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then Oceanhorn: Monster of Uncharted Seas is developer Cornfox & Bros building a candlelit shrine to The Legend of Zelda series. A more appropriate subtitle for it would be, "The names have been changed to protect the innocent." It'd be one thing if Oceanhorn achieved a similar level of greatness as its inspirations or riffed on Zelda's core concepts in a meaningful way. But mostly, Oceanhorn's greatest achievement lies in accentuating the brilliance of those inspirations, rather than taking them to exciting, uncharted territory.
Oceanhorn begins strongly enough. Our protagonist's father writes a final letter to his sleeping son before he goes off to face an eldritch beast of the deep, the titular Oceanhorn. When our hero awakes, he meets up with the local hermit for a quick lore lesson, then sets out on a top-down-perspective adventure across a series of scattered tropical islands to find his father--and maybe take down big bad Oceanhorn himself.
Right from the start, Oceanhorn is simple and intuitive. It's nostalgic and refreshing to set out on a hero's journey, and the only two things you need to know for a stretch are that the analog stick moves you, one button attacks, and one button allows you to move objects. Targeting happens automatically, and you rarely deal with more than one enemy at a time--and 90 percent of that time, flailing wildly with the basic sword is enough. This feels like a blessed side effect of Oceanhorn being ported from mobile--the original having released on iOS in 2013.
Such accessibility is appreciated, but modest aims elsewhere prove to be an issue. Most of Oceanhorn's puzzles are either of the rudimentary, block-moving sort or involve walking around long enough to find the key to the next room. Strangely, when a puzzle deviates from the norm, it often requires an illogical solution, like pushing a box through another physical object. The simple dungeons you explore are padded out by leading you to a certain point only to learn that you must look for an item elsewhere--which just so happens to be located on a whole other island, requiring a frustrating amount of backtracking.
Disappointment sets in once you realize that all of this effort leads to little payoff. The story doesn't take any major twists and turns, and NPC characters are stock townsfolk who exist purely for the sake of exposition. Journeys between towns and islands are taken by sailboat, a nod to The Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker. But Oceanhorn's seafaring is even more sparse and uneventful than exploring a village. Voyages transpire automatically once you point your ship toward an island, but sailing on rails robs you of completing the trip by your own efforts, diminishing the world's sense of scale in the process.
It's still a fundamentally unimaginative example of the genre it's aping, and completely fades out of memory the second you remember there are other fish in the sea.
There's also the issue with voice acting, which is sporadically used in a way that does not mesh well with Oceanhorn's storytelling. A conversation will start in text, then, suddenly switch to voice-over. Tone and expression also fall flat in the face of dramatic moments: while the exposition from the hermit inhabiting the main island is okay, a bunch other NPCs fail to match the tone set by the script. When you save the leader of a race of owl-men, he expresses his appreciation zero inflection. Not-Link saves a girl later in the game, and they watch the town festival from a hilltop, and her "I want to go off and see the world" speech is hilariously Ben Stein-level deadpan. That tends to be the case across the board, and the more Oceanhorn tries and fails to raise ay emotion whatsoever, the more embarrassing it becomes.
The journey's ease is sometimes appreciated, but it defines the entire experience. The only ace in Oceanhorn's pocket is that it's a type of game that typically doesn't see much play outside Nintendo's platforms, and it does stand out in that way. It's still a fundamentally unimaginative example of the genre it's aping, and completely fades out of memory the second you remember there are other fish in the sea.
Ashes of Ariandel, the first of two announced content add-ons for Dark Souls III, excels at feeling like a natural extension of the main game. It delivers much of what veterans expect from Dark Souls: challenging bosses, a locale that promotes exploration, and a new collection of gear. What's missing is that sense of awe that usually pulls you deep into the series' dark fantasy worlds. Dark Souls' best regions are those that command your attention beyond the promise of a fabled weapon or a novel group of enemies to vanquish. Ashes of Ariandel isn't in the same class as Artorias of the Abyss – the standout, lore-rich add-on from the original Dark Souls – but that doesn't make it a poor expansion--it's just not a noteworthy one.
Like the frosted regions of Dark Souls II's Crown of the Ivory King DLC, the Painted World of Ariandel is a wintry landscape that sometimes obscures its dangers behind fog and falling snow. Other areas provide typical Dark Souls vistas: The dramatic reveal of a grand chapel in the distance is enhanced by the foreground view of a long, fragile rope bridge. Like a similar overpass in the main game, this rickety span offers an access point to a new area, provided you have the imagination to find another purpose for the ropes.
The Painted World of Ariandel is a little bit larger than any individual DLC episode from Dark Souls II, though the generous scattering of bonfires--the series' safe havens--shortens an otherwise long journey. Many areas are as vast as they are tall. The trudge up a steep hill is a fruitful exercise in amassing a large kill count as you also manage your health-replenishing Estus Flasks. The undead soldiers who populate this hill are no zombies--they move with purpose once they see you and tactfully strike as well as any imposing Dark Souls foe.
There aren't just secrets in Ashes of Ariandel but also rewards for thorough exploration. One such prize is a switch that grants you access to the main boss, and the challenge comes from enduring the vile surroundings where the switch is found: a dark, dank room filled with giant flies that aim to kill you with bleed attacks.
Dark Souls III: Ashes of Ariandel accentuates the value of the journey over the destination.
Another reason to search every corner? To find the ticket to gain access to the PVP arena. While this online battleground is limited to one area designed especially for PVP, its replay value is reinforced by myriad match customization features, such as setting team sizes and access to consumables. While it's not engrossing enough to serve as the DLC's main draw, the ability to play beyond one-on-one battles is a welcome twist to a fan-favorite feature.
Like many Dark Souls environments before it, Ashes of Ariandel accentuates the value of the journey over the destination. It's about collecting new sets of gear and vanquishing the armed, aggressive hostiles who linger around the goodies. Typical of many Dark Souls areas, some items aren't directly accessible upon first sight. Studying the lay of the land in order to reach those items is its own gratifying brain teaser. And in classic Dark Souls fashion, a shortcut is the reward for surviving an excursion to the unlockable side of an otherwise locked gate.
Ashes of Ariandel's showcase battle is against Sister Friede, whose persona as a scythe-wielding nun--a holy death dealer, if you will--is an amusingly ham-fisted image. It's a duel that becomes all the more memorable if it evolves into a battle of attrition, although expert players can avoid such a grind. Her magic-enhanced moveset doesn't include any surprises, though her speed and expansive repertoire make her a formidable opponent for those with average skills. Success against her requires defense and patience above all else, so players who lean on the aggressive side are doubly tested. She's also a superb reminder that this series still has the ability to teach veteran players new tactics--even those who already have dozens of boss kills under their belts.
The rewards for defeating Friede--a pair of frost-enhanced scythes and a curious bouquet of roses designed for flagellation--are appropriately representative of the DLC's other unique gear. The Millwood armor set is one of the few ensembles in this DLC that makes you look like Viking, while the Valorheart grants the user a new way to shield bash. A melee weapon like the Crow Talons doesn't have much value as a main weapon over the long haul but there is gratification to having this loot as trophies for triumphing over tougher foes.
What Ashes of Ariandel lacks in originality, it makes up for in cohesion with the full version of Dark Souls III. The duel against Sister Friede, the DLC's highpoint, is the type of Dark Souls boss fight that makes an indelible impression--she's on the same level as the Abyss Watchers or Dancer of the Boreal Valley. While Ashes of Ariandel is ultimately a safe addition to Dark Souls III, it's convincingly satisfying; the risk of death at any moment is as likely as finding a new piece of practical gear or the discovery of an unexplored path. Just don't expect any areas as memorable as those in the main game or revelatory moments that substantially expands the lore.
Saturated with the blood of dozens of hapless souls, the floors squish beneath my feet. But there's plenty more work to be done. Chainsaw-wielding, rocket-powered cyborg mega-men attack from all directions as I struggle to dip and dodge between their mechanical blades. With each successful shotgun blast, another bursts into pixelated flames and lo-fi screams.
Butcher isn't for the faint of heart, and I don't just mean because, as its tagline says, "the easiest mode is Hard." It's raucous and aggressive, channeling the same violent and brutal '90s counterculture that birthed Doom and Duke Nukem. This time around, the chaos and gore of those hyper-masculine, guns-and-balls shooters comes in the form of a 2D action-platformer.
Its pixelated ultraviolence is accentuated by appropriately abrasive sound design--clanks and grinds harmonize with the vibrations of heavy machinery in a way that feels strangely timed to your play--no matter how quickly you rip and tear.
Most enemies can shoot and kill you as long as they can see you--even if you're clear across the screen. And because each area has dozens of trigger-happy bad guys ready to splatter your insides all over the walls, controlling visibility with corners and other obstacles is essential. As you go, you learn how important it is to limit your vulnerability. You'd think this would turn the game into a stealthy romp, but that's not quite accurate.
Butcher builds up to a ludicrous pace and encourages exploration to find the best tactic to handle any given conflict.
There's an emphasis maneuvering between different elevations. Strangely, however, that doesn't affect line of sight--both you and the meatbags you need to shred can shoot through most floors and ceilings. This means that you'll often need to peek your head out to catch their attention, then quickly move to a position where you can lie waiting in ambush. This works, for the most part, because so many of the environments support that style of play. If you're clever, you can kick (or trick) enemies into pits of lava and other hazards.
Butcher builds up to a ludicrous pace and encourages exploration to find the best tactic to handle any given conflict. This process gets tougher as the game goes on. Enemies will start pulling out quick-firing rocket launchers, and as they swarm you in great numbers, you'll have to tighten up your marksmanship and move faster to avoid incoming projectiles. If you miss a few too many shots, you'll run out of ammo and have to rely on your chainsaw to finish the job. This, of course, requires you to get much, much closer to your victims, leaving you exposed. Butcher always offers a trade-off between expediency and safety. That trade-off is essential, adding a bit of depth and pushing you to change your approach as you grow more and more confident in your skills.
Outside of combat, Butcher bleeds style. Each stage is an industrial or post-apocalyptic hellscape, complete with booming metal, lava, and grimdark backgrounds draped with chains and bones. The game leans on its presentation to help sell the theme of anarchic, bloody combat. Each gunshot visibly shakes the screen, and successive hits yield torrents of blood. Kills often generate pixelated chunks of nondescript body parts that you can kick around the stage--either to coat the area in blood or into an enemy as a distraction.
Butcher is a living relic, a callback to the days when being gritty and macabre was a goal unto itself. But make no mistake: beneath that gruff exterior is a thoughtfully crafted game . The allure of an ultraviolent indulgence might be enough to get some in the door, but the visuals are so pixelated and the audio so compressed that Butcher never feels excessive. More than anything, the aesthetic is backdrop for a remarkably creative game that coaxes you to try new, risky strategies in search of a higher score.
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