Tom O’Connell's Blog

January

Mortal Kombat 11

Purple Rain, purple Rain! ♫

I’ve been a Mortal Kombat fan since the very first instalment. It’s been great to see this series evolve from a stiff, simplistic fighter best known for courting controversy into a mature, respectable fighting series with competitive depth. The complex lore and Hollywood-tier cinematics are second to none, and a big reason why the campaign is so enjoyable.

Actual footage from my schoolyard days.

In most respects, Mortal Kombat 11 is a simple refinement of 2015’s Mortal Kombat X. Other than a roster shake-up (where you at, Reptile!?), greater graphical fidelity and some contentious tweaks to the meta, it’s a fundamentally similar experience to its predecessor. One noteworthy difference is that fighters’ appearances and movesets are now fully customisable. There’s also an (outstanding!) additional DLC campaign, a series first.

Story wise, Mortal Kombat 11 concludes the narrative arc that began with 2011’s spiritual reboot Mortal Kombat. By meddling with time to prevent Armageddon, Earthrealm’s warriors have created dangerous paradoxes and invoked the wrath of Kronika, the Keeper of Time. It’s a bunch of nonsense, really, but it facilitates some amazing fan service. It’s a lot of fun seeing interactions between past and present versions of characters. Story modes in fighting games rarely get this much care and attention. With Mortal Kombat 11, Netherealm Studio have proven they’re a cut above the competition.

Resident Evil 2 Remake

This fucker’s still chasing me in my nightmares…

The 2019 remake of Resident Evil 2 is easily one of the best games I’ve ever played. It’s certainly the best Resident Evil game. Every facet of it impresses: the graphics, atmosphere, puzzles, controls, voice acting, sound design, story and pacing.

Being relentlessly pursued by the foreboding giant Mr X is a gaming experience that will stick with me for a long time. Resident Evil 2 is a masterpiece that I recommend to everyone.

Donut County

BK, the absolute mad lad.

Short, colourful and delightfully strange, Donut County is perfect Game Pass fodder. It grabbed my attention early on with its chill gameplay and acerbic tone. The presentation and humour are strong, and it has the good sense to end before it wears out its own welcome.

February

Star Wars: Jedi Fallen Order

More like ‘Jedi Fallen Through Boulder’, amirite?  …   “…Use the jank, Cal!”

As a huge fan of Star Wars and Respawn’s signature IP Titanfall, Star Wars: Jedi Fallen Order should have been right up my alley. Unfortunately, I found it to be a frustrating mish-mash of ideas from other better games. The combat system cribs heavily from popular ‘Soulslike’ titles like Sekiro and Dark Souls. But those titles’ claim to fame – their punishing difficulty – is predicated on a methodical, razor-sharp combat system that rewards precise play. Jedi Fallen Order’s combat, by comparison, feels sloppy and buggy.

The combat is at its worst when you’re made to deal with the intergalactic wildlife. To be honest, I’m not sure how the concept of fighting giant frogs and insects in a Star Wars game even left the drawing board. The creature designs are horribly dull and their attacks are poorly telegraphed and difficult to read. Fighting Stormtroopers is comparatively more enjoyable.

Like Disney’s The Mandalorian, the story was serviceable. It’s a patchwork of (at this point well-worn) Star Wars tropes. I wasn’t particularly invested and the few narrative twists that occurred telegraphed themselves from a mile away. However, the presentation was great and I enjoyed the banter between the crew members. Their personalities felt fully realised.

The visuals were solid, with nice lighting and mocap performances. However, some areas of the game betrayed the lack of overall polish. Clipping occurred frequently during combat and there were janky animations abound. Cal’s facial animations were a bit uncanny. He had that quintessential Ubisoft thousand-yard-stare. The planets and environments, of which there were disappointingly few, ranged from hideous to beautiful. Oh, and #JusticeForWookies! They look like swamp monsters in this game. Total abominations.

Chew-back the fuck away from me!

Another issue I wanted to address was the RPG-lite ‘skill tree’, which felt extremely tacked on. None of the abilities I unlocked shook up the gameplay in any meaningful way, so I never felt the rewarding sense of development that such a system implies. I also disliked the way the game used memory loss as its narrative justification for gating classic Jedi abilities. This felt very contrived and video gamey.

The final thing I wanted to rant about was the abysmal level design and map system. Too much of this game is spent tediously backtracking between locations. Puzzlingly, there’s no option to warp back to the ship following completion of a dungeon. Instead, you must slog your way back through already-completed areas, repeating platforming sections and contending with respawned enemies while the unintuitive map does its darndest to confuse and disorient you.

I know I kind of went all-in on this game, but I genuinely found it a frustrating and disappointing experience. I’m not sure how it reviewed as well it did, or why fans rate it as highly as they do. I suspect it’s because the Star Wars brand has been held hostage for so long now and so new games are being graded on a different, ‘EA’ curve. Still, Respawn remains a talented developer and there are flickers of greatness here. I’m confident the sequel will improve upon these issues.

Slayaway Camp

Fintastic.

This Games with Gold giveaway was an inventive puzzler and love letter to the horror film genre. Each chapter pays loving homage to an era of cinematic horror history.

While the presentation appealed to my inner cinephile, the puzzles became impenetrably complex. Each world introduces new gimmicks that affect how you can proceed. It starts off enjoyably enough but, with only a single linear route to victory, quickly devolved into a tedious grind of trial and error. The later levels are just straight-up ridiculous, with the player expected to anticipate the sprawling consequences of all 25 required moves. Maybe Grand Chess Masters will enjoy this, but it was all a bit much for this feeble chimp.

Still, the wonderful sound effects, death animations and clever references did a great job mitigating some of this frustration.

Wilmot’s Warehouse

The perfect way for warehouse workers to unwind after a stressful 9-to-5’er.

A charming and inventive indie puzzle game with a seemingly banal but actually novel premise: arranging stock in a warehouse. Super satisfying if, like me, you enjoy organisation or fall anywhere on the OCD spectrum. The simple presentation and relaxing score added to the charm.

Every player will develop their own organisational system. In the beginning, I intended to group stock by colour, but found this system fell apart as floor space became scarcer and colours started overlapping. By the end, my layout was a convoluted mess that could only have made sense to its creator. A bit like my local Woolworth’s.

I remember taking a break from the game for a few days midway through a playthrough. When I returned to it, I struggled to remember the specifics of my system. I was just flying by the seat of my pants with a very intricate mental map.

All up, Wilmot’s Warehouse was a great little experience, both relaxing and stressful in turns. Its timed challenges really tested me but, overall, I remember it fondly. At this point, the AAA space is hilariously stale and risk averse. I’m thankful we have indies, where fun and innovation still prevail.

March

Bloodstained: Curse of the Moon

Swinging from an 8-bit chandelier straight into your heart

I’ve never played a Castlevania game, though the shadow of the series’ influence looms large over the industry even today. I wasn’t all that interested in Bloodstained: Curse of the Moon initially; I only started it because it was one of the few games that interested me in the meagre XCloud Preview Program selection. I’m glad I did, though, as I ended up enjoying it from beginning to end.

Its retro visuals and sound design were charming as all hell. The platforming was decidedly old school (it reminded me of Game Boy-era platformers), though less punishing. The challenge was tough but fair. Completing this game felt extremely rewarding and I look forward to spending more time with this series and its progenitor, Castlevania.

April

The Medium

Now with two times the tedium!

Bloober Team are a divisive studio, but I’ve always enjoyed their efforts. They’ve managed to carve out an interesting niche as a developer of cinematic horror walking sims. Their latest entry, The Medium, is a loving homage to the Silent Hill series. It also has the distinction of being the first true Xbox Series X exclusive.

This exclusivity is due to the game’s central gimmick: its dual worlds. The Medium renders its spirit and corporeal worlds simultaneously. Through the power of next-gen hardware (namely the lightning-fast SSD), players can swap between worlds instantaneously. This concept is technically ambitious and impressive to behold.

Beyond this, though, the game was fairly unremarkable. It’s very slow, the puzzles are rudimentary and the controls are cumbersome. While the story is engaging, I didn’t like the way the main character, Marianne, took every horrifying supernatural experience she faced in her stride. Why should I, the player, feel scared when my character is clearly comfortable in the face of the unknown?

Stranger Things Season 3: The Game

“Well, well! Who’s that hunky mess of pixels?”

A retro-throwback tie-in video game to a retro-throwback Netflix series. For what it was, this was a decently enjoyable co-op romp. It was a touch too long and its difficulty a bit uneven, but it was more enjoyable than most licensed games (that recent Space Jam brawler was particularly heinous).

The character profiles were utterly bizarre, though. In many instances, they barely resembled the character they were supposed to.

Undertale

Not gonna lie. Papyrus carries this game.

Continuing my trend of playing massively popular games way after the hype has subsided, I finally got around to playing the one-time indie cultural juggernaut, Undertale. I had my head in the sand when it came to this game and knew nothing about it. As such, my playthrough was pure and uninfluenced by the hype machine.

It’s hard to make up my mind about it. On one hand, its constant subversion of my expectations made for a wild, unpredictable (and often hilarious) ride. The writing and characters were genuinely hilarious.

Beyond that, though, I can’t help but feel a large part of the game’s appeal hinges on the novelty of upending long-standing gaming conventions. In one sense this is novel, but I bristle at the thought of being manipulated for the developer’s amusement.

The game sometimes feels like it’s jonesing to punish the player for taking actions that the medium, and even the game itself, has conditioned them to expect. You take an action that seems correct or appropriate, only to inadvertently offend an NPC and invite punishment. Consequently, the game feels over-reliant on trial and error gameplay. Following rote actions is bad. The player must unlearn decades of conditioning to enjoy and succeed at this game. Some will find this refreshing while others will find it unfair.

Beyond all that, the game has personality in spades and the OST is straight-up God Tier. While at first I felt punished for not immediately embarking on a pacifist journey, the charm of the experience soon won me over. The pacifist run was an interesting challenge.

May

Rain On Your Parade

Sorry! Wedding’s cancelled.

Fun presentation marred by sluggish controls and occasionally unclear objectives. I enjoyed drawing my cloud’s face and decorating him to my liking. I think I would’ve been more impressed with this if Donut County hadn’t already raised the bar in terms of what these irreverent point-and-click meme games can offer.

Rise of the Tomb Raider

Tomb Raider 11: Snow Way Out.

Rise of the Tomb Raider was a modest downgrade after the impeccable Tomb Raider (2013). While its story lacks the amazing supporting cast and emotional through-line of its predecessor, there is still a lot of fun and depth in this title.

The mechanics are extremely polished. The controls are intuitive, making movement a joy. The environments, particularly the snowy Siberia stages, are stunning and intricately detailed. Similarly, the voice acting is first rate, breathing life into an otherwise sterile story.

I didn’t particularly enjoy the transition to a larger open world format. The side content – save for the brilliant optional tombs – mostly entailed dull busywork. I wish they had stuck closer to the tighter format of the previous game. Overall, this is another solid entry in the reboot Tomb Raider series.

Click here to read Part One.

September

Forager

Then you’ve come to the right website, friend!

A 2D indie crafting/building/dungeon-crawler/adventure thing with charming pixel art and an addictive gameplay loop. Like Animal Crossing, Forager is a real slow burn. Tens of hours in, I was still discovering new areas, mechanics and secrets. This sense of discovery held my interest right to the end.

The endgame content was, however, a bit lacklustre. By the time I mopped up the final few achievements, the game had devolved into a monotonous grind. It’s a shame my lingering impressions are of frustration, but I’d still rate this game highly.

 

Tell Me Why

Beer and fishing D&Ms? 10/10.

A thoroughly enjoyable interactive drama/walking sim from the creators of Life is Strange. As in their past work, this game featured solid writing and interesting characters. I appreciated the shorter overall length and fast (weekly!) turnaround of episodes, as it gave the story greater momentum.

Tell Me Why was full of memorable sequences that employed simple, menial tasks to impart characterisation and develop relationships. These included taking inventory in a general store and a novel sequence where a character struggles to centre herself during a panic attack.

The puzzles were a mixed bag. A memorable one had me snooping through locked police records in search of clues, which required critical thinking and memorisation. I appreciated that the player was given agency here. On the other hand, the ‘Crafty Goblin’ riddles – puzzles with a fairy tale motif – were torturous and hindered the narrative momentum.

I played this game with my girlfriend. Though I was at the wheel, we considered it a collaborative experience. Much like when dissecting a TV show, we discussed where we thought the story was going, shared our impressions of characters and weighed in on the central mysteries, such as who the twins’ father was, what really happened on that fateful night, and which supporting characters were shady. This made the game even more enjoyable and had me anticipating each episode’s release.

Pre-release, a great deal of emphasis was paid to Tyler, one of gaming’s earliest and most prominent examples of trans representation. Tyler’s transition was handled with great care. This story wasn’t explicitly about Tyler’s identity; it was just a cool detail that informed his worldview.

I loved how all the small-town supporting characters navigated Tyler’s transition, something they clearly had no experience with. They wanted to understand and show support, but didn’t always have the right words. I felt this was a realistic portrayal of how such a situation would unfold. The awkward but well-intentioned interactions between, say, Tyler and Sam, or Tyler and Eddy were great.

I was also glad they refrained from including any transphobic antagonists. Not that transphobia isn’t worth exploring, but it was nice to see Tyler embraced and accepted as a regular townsperson. I think this is a great way to normalise LGBTQ+ people in media (making them an organic part of the world and community, rather than having the entire story pivot around their identity). Schitt’s Creek is another good example of this.

All up, Tell Me Why was an excellent addition to the Game Pass roster and further proof that Dontnod are the masters of this sort of interactive storytelling.

 

Juju

The Care Bears platformer no one asked for.

A short and colourful 2D platformer that plays like an homage to the Donkey Kong Country series (though without the palm-sweating difficulty!). Enjoyable, though fairly basic.

October

Dishonored

The Disgruntled Henchman Convention.

I’m usually too impatient for stealth games, but I made an exception for Dishonored, Arkane Studio’s much-lauded 2012 game. I was drawn to it because of its enduring cult status and the frequent comparisons it receives to Bioshock (I mean, I sort of get it, but not really).

While it fell a little short of my expectations, I still really enjoyed my time with this game. The sprawling, intricately designed levels are an amazing achievement and the freedom afforded to the player is staggering. With the number of tools and routes available, the sky is truly the limit in terms of how the player approaches their objectives. The story itself wasn’t anything remarkable, but the lore, world-building and environmental storytelling were really cool.

Definitely a great game deserving of its reputation. I look forward to playing the sequel eventually.

Tacoma

Fluorescent adolescents.

I started this solely for a Game Pass Quest. As such, I was all set to cash in my Reward points and bounce right off what I assumed was another hum-ho walking simulator. However, to my surprise, I was drawn in by the excellent writing and voice acting.

Tacoma is a uniquely told detective story set on a space station in the wake of a mysterious accident. As the investigator, you comb through holographic recordings left behind by missing crew members to determine what happened. There’s a certain voyeuristic pleasure in this as you’re afforded intimate glimpses into their lives. How they present in a group setting or professional capacity doesn’t always reflect how they feel inside or how they act when they think they’re alone. As such, you soon realise that more went on here than first meets the eye.

The story is presented out of order and with little context. I found piecing it all together very satisfying. There are all manners of twists, deceptions and engaging character moments. In fact, I was surprised how relatable it all felt considering the emphasis on advanced technology. I highly recommend this one.

 

Don’t Make Love

Warning! NSFW.

A peculiar text-based relationship game about two praying mantises on the precipice of a life-changing choice. Unique and thought-provoking, though really more of an interactive art project.

November

Assassin’s Creed

When you all accidentally buy the same Halloween costume.

I’d always been curious about this intimidatingly long-running series. After accumulating most of the series as Games with Gold giveaways, the time had finally come to dive in. I opted to start with the first entry, but heeded the warnings about it ageing poorly.

For the most part, I enjoyed this. The fluid controls (relative to other third-person action games; I know this entry is positively creaking compared to its successors), awe-inspiring sandbox vistas and fresh mechanics (relative to 2007!) made it fun to play. The story, which reframes historical events as part of an intricate, globe-spanning conspiracy, was super engaging and way ahead of its time.

Really, the only things that let it down were its drab colour palette (hope you like brown!), rudimentary combat system (basically a series of Quick Time Events) and the staggeringly repetitious objectives. However, even in this crude, embryonic state, it was clear to me that Assassin’s Creed was brimming with franchise potential.

Gears of War 4

Titanfalls of War.

A game I’m in two minds about. On one hand, Gears of War 4 was jaw-droppingly beautiful. The production values and general presentation were seriously impressive. I liked the decision to jump ahead in time after Gears of War 3 and revisit this world from the perspective of a new generation. Likewise, while the old characters don’t play too much of a role (outside of Marcus), they’re at least handled respectfully. It was neat seeing where they all ended up.

The controls feel fluid and refined to perfection. By now, the original Gears titles (at least the first two) feel stiff and clunky, but this entry is snappy and responsive, particularly with the leap to 60 frames per second. I can’t understate how much difference this makes to the moment-to-moment gameplay.

There were also cool-as-fuck set pieces that make you feel like you’re playing through the most high-octane action film ever created. One such example are the new windflares, complex environmental hazards that devastate the battlefield in real time.

Gears of Wars 4 introduces an entirely new cast. I liked most of them well enough, although this change also marked a dramatic shift in tone. Instead of being about jaded war veterans fighting for humanity’s survival, this game felt more like the coming-of-age adventure for quippy adolescents.

The campaign was laughably short and ended with next to no fanfare. It felt like they ran out of time and were forced to end the story at an arbitrary point. I suppose it’s better to be short and sweet than to overstay your welcome. Multiplayer has never reliably worked in Australia thanks to ass-backwards region-locked matchmaking, so I can’t really comment there.

The Walking Dead: A New Frontier

Even her stares can kill.

This was the first Xbox game I played through entirely from the comfort of my bed via streaming. I would chip away at it for half an hour or so before drifting off to sleep.

A New Frontier is, in everything but name, the third season of Telltale’s Walking Dead walking simulator series. While you no longer control long-time protagonist Clementine, she still features prominently in the story. You now engage with her from the perspective of ex-pro baseballer and uncle-turned-surrogate-dad Javier García.

I was initially sceptical of this change, but it turned out to just the shot in the arm the series needed. The series was beginning to feel a bit bogged down by Clementine’s history. For example, the second season strained believability in depicting a group of competent adults requesting advice and taking orders from a prepubescent girl. With this new approach, returning players get to meet Clementine anew. This version of her is less wide-eyed; she’s older, embittered, less trusting and utterly ruthless.

I won’t go on all day about this game, but I will say that I really enjoyed it.

Oceanhorn

Starring famed gaming icon Mink from the Saga of Celda series.

Oceanhorn is an isometric action-adventure game that draws obvious inspiration from the Legend of Zelda series (specifically, it plays like A Link to the Past with some Wind Waker window dressing). Its limitations are very apparent, which is understandable as it’s a port of a mobile game made many years ago on a shoestring budget. It has the appearance and scope of an old phone game, with shocking voice acting and sound mixing, and puzzles that are simple to a fault.

While it doesn’t reach the high standards regularly set by Nintendo, I still found Oceanhorn to be enjoyable and charming in its own way. There’s just something timeless about running around verdant fields slashing away at tall grass and deflecting attacks back at unsuspecting enemies. Controls are responsive and the art design is solid. I can’t give it many points for originality, but the game was clearly made by a passionate team with a reverence for Zelda.

December

Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs

Welcome to Vegetarianism.

This game was insane. I trialled it as an Epic Store freebie and liked it enough to buy the Amnesia collection on Xbox One. (Very average port, by the way. Abysmal load times.)

Unlike its predecessor Amnesia: Dark Descent, A Machine for Pigs sheds the survival elements to become a full-fledged puzzle game/walking simulator. As a newcomer to this series, I didn’t mind at all and was more so enthralled by the clever writing and incredible vocal performances. It tells the story of a father who wakes up amnesia-stricken to find his children are gone. What follows is a complex and harrowing tale of a brilliant man’s descent to madness.

The atmosphere is the true highlight of this game. Despite the limitations of its dated engine, the environments still drew me in and immersed me in this world, proving again that thoughtful art direction trumps technical ability any day. Scares were so infrequent that they really commanded your attention when they happened. The game’s monsters, the iconic Man-Pigs, are horrifying in both concept and design. Underrated gem.

The Strokes – At the Door

A sparse, powerful track about the dissolution of Julian Casablanca’s marriage. Yeah, Is This It is great and everything, but I believe this is the band’s masterpiece. Julian gives an electrifying vocal performance in which he has never sounded more vulnerable. The lyrics are raw and honest, and the hurt in his voice is palpable.

 

            I can’t escape it.

            Never gonna make it out of this in time.

            I guess that’s just fine.

            I’m not there quite yet.

            My thoughts such a mess.

            Like a little boy.

            What you running from?

 

            Run at the door.

            Anyone home?

            Have I lost it all?

 

            Struck me like a chord.

            I’m an ugly boy.

            You begged me not to go.

            Sinking like a stone.

            Use me like an oar.

            Get yourself to shore.

 

            I can’t see beyond this wall.

            We lost this game so many times before.

 

Sufjan Stevens – Video Game

In ‘Video Game’, the lead single from his 2020 release The Ascension, Sufjan Stevens offers an incisive critique of modern culture and a stark rejection of social media. The song is about working hard without seeking accolades and rewards, which, today, are often quantified by likes, followers, listeners and views.

 

            I don’t want to be your personal Jesus.

            I don’t want to live inside of that flame.

            I don’t want to be the centre of the universe.

            I don’t want to be a part of that shame.

 

Here, Sufjan rejects idol worship and the narcissistic impulses of celebrity culture.

 

            I don’t care if everybody else is into it.

            I don’t care if it’s a popular refrain.

            I don’t want to be a puppet in a theatre.

            I don’t want to play your video game.

 

He affirms the importance of honouring your values and not conforming simply because it’s the path of least resistance. Likening fame and online attention to a video game is very apt. Neither are real. They’re both about chasing dopamine hits and ephemeral highs.

 

            I don’t want to be your Julius Caesar.

            I don’t want it to go down that way.

 

Et tu, Twitter? Through this comparison, Sufjan is saying he doesn’t wish to be raised to a position of power or fame only to be back-stepped by those closest to him (fickle music fans, in this context).

 

            But in a way you gotta follow the procedure.

            So go ahead and play your video game.

 

With this line, Sufjan is acknowledging that ‘playing the game’ is a reality he must abide to make a living as a professional musician. For Sufjan, ‘following the procedure’ means participating in the very promotional circus that he detests. The system is what it is, after all. However, he has at least resolved to engage with it in a healthy and professional manner.

 

Glass Animals – Dreamland

I’ve been fixated on this song all year. It’s the opening and title track for Glass Animals’ third full release. Interestingly, it serves as the album’s ‘table of contents’, with each line containing details that are expanded upon in later songs. I love this idea. However, the song also works on its own, outside of the context of the album.

‘Dreamland’ is all about reflection and evokes a clear sense of nostalgia. Its themes feel universal, despite the lyrics being hyper specific to Dave Bayley’s own experiences. Instead of a linear narrative, Bayley uses kaleidoscopic imagery to convey memories swirling about in a person’s head.

 

            Pulling down backstreets, deep in your head.

            Slipping through dreamland, like a tourist.

 

An invitation to daydream. A call to introspection. I love this image: memories rendered as a bustling cityscape.

 

            That first friend you had.

            That worst thing you said.

            That perfect moment.

            That last tear you shed.

            All you’ve done in bed.

            All around your head.

            All around your head.

 

Snapshots fly from a robust and full life, a life well-lived.

 

            You’ve had too much of the digital love.

 

Per Dave Bayley, this line is about the internet and its effects on our relationships. It’s great for discovering things and making connections, but it also has the capacity to destroy a person’s mental health.

 

            Make it feel like a movie you saw in your youth.

           

The song’s mission statement: chasing nostalgia, coveting a feeling from a formative time. I love how the seminal songs and movies from our youth serve as timestamps for our lives. I’m sure seeing Star Wars in cinemas when it first came out was incredible. Pure, unifying cultural events like that are rare these days, so I can understand the reverence for such a time.

 

            Make it feel like that song that just unopened you.

 

Permit me to be cheesy a moment. As a music lover, I deeply understand this feeling. Connecting with a song absolutely feels like being ‘unopened’. It’s nothing short of miraculous the way sound from a speaker can influence mood and perspective, and trigger an emotional response. It gives shape and form to something intangible inside you, something that’s otherwise impossible to articulate. The way Bayley distils this feeling into a single unassuming verb (‘unopened’) is impressive. The economy of his writing inspires me.

 

Without question, the darkest and most devastating pair of lines – the ones which, upon first listen, made my ears prick and shot a shiver through me – are these:

 

            You were ten years old, holding hands in the classroom.

            He had a gun on the first day of high school.

 

There’s a lot to extrapolate from such a charged pair of lines. They describe possibly the most pronounced and profound loss of innocence imaginable. Somehow, life contorted a sweet childhood friend into a would-be school shooter.

 

            You see Kodachrome.

            You see pink and gold.

 

This person is retrospectively minded. They have ‘Kodak eyes’ and experience life through the lens of memory, with every sight processed and compartmentalised accordingly. Seeing in ‘pink and gold’ refers to looking back with rose-coloured glasses. Can a person this retrospective ever truly live in the moment?

 

            You see Mulholland glow.

            You see in airplane mode.

 

Here, Dave name-checks a formative movie reference (Lynch’s Mulholland Drive). By seeing in ‘Airplane Mode’, he refers to living without ‘distraction, filters and biases’. It’s another clever turn of phrase, as connected devices offer infinite ways to drive a person to distraction. Meanwhile, a device in ‘Airplane Mode’ has limited applications, permitting a purer, more singular focus.

 

            You float in the pool where the soundtrack is canned.

            You go ask your questions, like ‘What makes a man?’

            Oh, it’s 2020, so it’s time to change that.

            So you go make an album and call it Dreamland.

 

As the song draws to a close, Dave reflects on what masculinity means to him in today’s ever-changing cultural landscape. In the final line, he resolves, with a cheeky meta wit, to explore such questions in the creation of this very album.

 

HAIM – I Know Alone

I was lukewarm on HAIM’s second album, Something to Tell You, which skewed a bit Sheryl Crow-lite for my tastes. I missed the noisy guitars and funk-inspired grooves of Days Are Gone, which remains one of my favourite debut albums ever. Women in Music Pt. III is an excellent return to form and contains some of the Haim sisters’ strongest songwriting to date.

‘I Know Alone’ is my personal standout. The electronic elements set it apart from most of their discography. This track feels fresh and experimental – very Kid A-esque. It was produced by former Vampire Weekend member, Rostam (that band’s secret weapon). Danielle’s processed vocals sound synthetic and emotionally distant, yet the lyrics are raw, achingly personal.

This song details a crippling bout of depression. (I need to stop gravitating towards songs like this.)

 

            Been a couple days since I’ve been out.

            Calling all my friends, but they won’t pick up.

            Found another room in a different place.

            Sleeping through the day but I dream the same.

 

            I don’t wanna give too much.

            I don’t wanna feel at all.

 

            Nights turn into days

            that turn to grey.

            Keep turning over.

            Some things never grow.

            I know alone,           

            like no one else does.

 

            Days get slow, like counting cell towers on the road.

            I know alone and I don’t wanna talk about it.

            Friday hits and I feel like I’m wasting everybody’s time.

            Now Sunday comes and they expect me to shine.

 

Pluralone – The Night Won’t Scare Me

Pluralone is the solo project of former Red Hot Chili Peppers guitarist, Josh Klinghoffer. From what I’ve gleaned from interviews, Klinghoffer’s contributions and relentless work ethic weren’t particularly valued by the band. Despite ten years of touring and three releases, he was still, in reality, a glorified touring member, the lowest rung on the totem.

Maybe his dismissal from the band was all for the best, though, as Pluralone is a far better vehicle for Klingoffer and a terrific showcase of his talents. ‘The Night Won’t Scare Me’ is a powerful piece of piano rock and a hopeful affirmation in the face of uncertainty. Very 2020.

 

The 1975 – I Think There’s Something You Should Know

A mellow house track about imposter syndrome. For me, this song effectively soundtracked our devastating winter lockdown. A bleak time deserves a bleak anthem.

 

            I think there’s something you should know.

            I don’t feel like myself, I’m not gonna lie.

           

            I feel so seen and I can’t dream.

            Sleeping terrifies me. Otherwise, I’m fine, see-

            -saw back and forth, back on the door, back on the floor.

            Please ignore me. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.

            Feeling like someone, like somebody else, who don’t feel themself.

           

I really admire the vulnerability here. Matty Healy lays everything bare, effectively turning himself inside out and allowing the listener to probe his deepest insecurities. I relate to a lot of it. I don’t really like myself a lot of the time and feel similarly out of step with the modern world.

The whole song is brilliant but two particular lines stand out to me:

 

            Paying for their wealth with their mental health.

 

This is the burden of the professional artist. As a songwriter, Matty’s literal livelihood involves working through painful personal issues and exploring the human condition. As a touring musician, he lives in a constant state of flux. I imagine feeling permanently displaced and unmoored can’t be good for one’s mental health and yet it’s literally how he makes his money. What a conundrum.

 

            I’d like to meet myself and swap clothes.

 

What a great image. Here, Healy’s feelings of dissociation have figuratively dislocated him from his ‘real’ self. He’s become a separate entity entirely. No doubt the celebrity machine contributes greatly to this sense of depersonalisation. In my reading, he wants to find ‘himself’, the happy version, and swap clothes, swap places, swap realities with them.

 

The 1975 – Frail State of Mind

An agoraphobic’s anthem and another song with an unexpected resonance in 2020:

 

            Go outside?

            Seems unlikely.

 

This song is about depression and withdrawing from friends to spare them the burden.

 

            I’m sorry that I missed your call.

            I watched it ring.

            “Don’t waste their time.”

            I’ve always got a frail state of mind.

 

            “Oh, boy, don’t cry.”

            I’m sorry but I always get this way sometimes.

            Oh, I’ll just leave.

            I’ll save you time.

            I’m sorry ’bout my frail state of mind.

 

            Oh, what’s the vibe?

            I wouldn’t know.

            I’m normally in bed at this time.

            You guys, go do your thing

            and I’ll just leave at nine.

            Don’t wanna bore you with my frail state of mind.

 

My Morning Jacket – Wasted

My Morning Jacket return after a painfully long hiatus. Well, kind of. Actually, these songs are leftovers from 2016’s The Waterfall sessions. Must have been a fruitful period for the band because these songs are just as potent as their predecessors.

I thought about highlighting the lead single, ‘Spinning My Wheels’, a reflective track about escaping a spell of complacency. In the end, though, it was impossible to overlook the mesmerising raucous rocker, ‘Wasted’. This loud, meandering masterpiece captures the intense energy of their live shows.

 

Goodnight Goodbye – Dad Dancing

A playful pop song about shaking off insecurities and inhibitions with a few drinks and having a boogie. Pretty much the logic I’m operating on whenever I go out. Some lyrical highlights:

           

            Last night when I spilt my pint.

            I kinda gave up, ooh, I kind gave up.

            So I won’t go up to the bar.

            It’s fine. I’ll take a vodka and lime.

            My mind is made up, ooh, my mind is made up.

            So I’ll stumble down to the bar.

 

            Loving you is all I ever wanna do.

            Some people looking as I steal the room.

            I don’t care. We’re just having fun.

            I’d be up for the chase, but I can’t stop dancing now.

 

            Dad dancing, ohh, you’re dad dancing.

            I’m taking my chances. I’m really good at dancing now.

 

Honourable Mentions

  Jeff Tweedy – Guess Again

With nothing more to prove, Jeff Tweedy pens a breezy, effortlessly pretty ode to his wife.

Glass Animals – It’s All So Incredibly Loud

Dave Bailey crystalises into song the precise moment he breaks someone’s heart. “You don’t make a sound. Heartbreak was never so loud.” I particularly love how the song slowly grows louder and builds in complexity.

The Killers – Fire in Bone

‘Fire in Bone’ has a great groove and wears its Talking Heads influence with pride. I consider this and ‘Dying Breed’ bright spots from the band’s otherwise spotty recent releases.

Grimes – Delete Forever

‘Delete Forever’ tackles the opioid crisis, which has claimed several people close to Grimes. This song is lyrically harrowing but, paradoxically, it is one of the prettiest and cleanest-sounding in Grimes’ catalogue.

Car Seat Headrest – Martin

An infectious bit of acoustic pop. I particularly love the vocal distortion that closes out the track, and this awesome line: “When I’m high on things that bug me. Morning news and instant coffee.”

Phoenix – Identical

Two albums later, Phoenix recapture my interest with this buoyant standalone single. A fun slice of synth pop.

Step Rockets – Kisser (Stripped)

(I’m kind of cheating here with this electrifying 2020 rendition of a track from 2013, but anything to spotlight a great song.)

In my many years of apartment living, I’ve had neighbours that have ranged from great to terrible. I like to think of them as revolving cast members in some long-running sitcom (one that is well past its best years and, in all honesty, should’ve been cancelled years ago). I thought it might be fun (and cathartic) to reopen some old wounds and introduce you to some of these characters.

Art Students

One of my earliest experiences living out of home set the bar astronomically low. I was living in a ground-floor street-facing apartment in an area with a younger demographic. The neighbours, a pair of stoner art students, created a makeshift communal area right outside the building’s entrance (i.e. next to my bedroom window).

They would sit out there on this raggedy old couch drinking and smoking day in, day out – every day. On weekends they’d have half a dozen of their equally obnoxious friends over. All night they’d be shouting, laughing, blaring shit music and slamming the door as they came in and out of the building. It was hell. I’ve never slept worse.

The other tenants and I tried talking to them about it, but they didn’t care. I even called the cops on them once, which felt like an extreme and petty thing to do but, y’know, it’s difficult to function with long-term sleep deprivation. I especially hated having to engage with them every single time I left the house.

The experience taught me the importance of standing up for myself when others try to take advantage… and to stay the fuck away from ground-floor, street-facing apartments!

The Clean Freak

In case I sound like some uptight buzzkill, this next neighbour should illustrate how I feel about the other end of the spectrum. Early on, I lived with a guy in his late twenties who also happened to be the apartment’s owner and landlord. As per his rules, I wasn’t allowed to watch his television in the communal living area and could only use the kitchen and dining area in the hours he’d designated.

According to his most extreme rule, I was expected to wipe down the shower and sink after every use with a cloth or squilgee. He was extremely anal about this. I thought this was excessive (surely regular scheduled cleans would suffice), but I indulged him as best as I could. It turned out my best wasn’t good enough, as he meekly confronted me about it on a few occasions, leading me into the bathroom to point out any stray droplets I’d missed.

As you might imagine, I didn’t stay here long. It was untenable. I generally consider myself clean and conscientious. The fact that he couldn’t cohabit with me, someone (relatively) sane and considerate, suggests shared living is probably not for him. Trust me, bro. There are far worse roommates out there…

Old Norma

Norma was my 90-year-old next-door neighbour at my last residence. She was very hard of hearing and, in my opinion, had no business living alone in a third-floor apartment. In my brief time living there, she almost set fire to her own place twice.

On one of these occasions, my girlfriend and I were the first responders. Her smoke alarm was going nuts, so we knocked on her door to see if she was all right. After a few minutes of persistent knocking, Norma finally answered. She looked completely overwhelmed and pleaded for us to make the noise stop.

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Her apartment was filled with smoke so I beelined into the kitchen. There, I saw the stove had been left on and a saucepan sat abandoned on the heated element. I turned it off and threw open every window. The smoke alarm could not be silenced, so I grabbed a stool from my apartment and unplugged it. I also called one of her assisted-living nurses to let them know what had happened.

Norma was beyond grateful and engaged us in 40 minutes of circuitous conversation. She misheard me when I told her my name and kept calling me ‘John’, and she also offered us packets of biscuits for our trouble. Funny lady.

Bye, Fence

Last year, a neighbour from the next building over drove through my back fence. I was sitting on the couch in my pyjamas when it happened. He wasn’t drunk or anything; he just had a lapse of concentration while pulling out of his garage.

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He was extremely embarrassed and apologised profusely. To his credit, he took away all the debris himself and arranged to have the fence replaced within a few days. Having strangers from the neighbouring building staring into my house for a few days was annoying, but, hey, I got a funny story out of it.

The Music Teacher

I currently live next door to a music teacher who, during the pandemic, has had to pivot to running online classes. Every morning at around 11 she transforms from unassuming suburbanite into her insane musical theatre-loving alter ego.

For an hour each day, I hear her running scales with her students with her piano and shrill, operatic voice. Her performances are… shall we say… intense. I can tell she feels the music, as she performs with the conviction of a drunk stockbroker on karaoke night.

I actually don’t have a problem with this. Everyone’s had to adapt during the pandemic. It is, however, another example of the strange experiences you can have living in an apartment.

Subaru Knobhead

This machismo dickhead worshipped his blue Subaru Impreza and was always speeding in and out of the building at weird hours. His prerogative, of course, except that his ridiculous subwoofer would rattle every window in the building and could probably rouse a coma patient from their slumber.

Every day, he’d leave for work at 4.30 in the morning. In winter, he would start his car a good five to ten minutes before he left, revving the engine a dozen times and then leaving it running. I can still hear it now, like an idling chainsaw in the back of my brain…

This guy was also super confrontational and loved inserting himself into every building-related drama. He would peer through the blinds whenever anyone pulled into the building car park (I guess to make sure no one scratched his precious douchemobile?). I once saw him storm out of his house and get right up in the face of a new resident who had mistakenly parked in the wrong car space (they were unmarked).

He also spent weeks banging on about an old Christmas tree that had been dumped in the communal rubbish area. Clearly, he had no idea who the culprit was, but that didn’t stop him from accusing everyone in the building. He was like a disgraced detective still haunted by that one Big Case. I was glad to see the back of this ’roided-up tossbag.

Religious Lady

Though I only actually spoke to her twice, this woman went out of her way to leave a Christmas card in my mailbox every year. The cards contained well-wishes and little messages about Jesus.

Not gonna lie: I found this weird and hilarious, and I definitely had a private snigger at her expense. But in retrospect, she was just a sweet lady trying to spread some positivity. I wish her well.

Quarrelling Bogans

This volatile couple etched themselves into my memory with their explosive rows. These overweight, heavy-drinking metal fans passionately loved or hated each other, depending on the day. I actually immortalised their antics in an old story, which I will now share:

A loud bang caught our attention. Our neighbours in the adjacent apartment were having a screaming match. The woman’s voice was squeaky, imperceptible.

‘This is it!’ her boyfriend boomed. ‘I’m going! I’m fucking going!’

Kat and I exchanged worried glances. I was embarrassed by his melodrama, but the hurt in his voice was palpable. I thought of all the fights Kat and I’d had, how ridiculous they’d have sounded to an outsider.

I entered the kitchen under the pretence of getting a glass of water and peeked beneath the blinds.

‘I mean it!’ he challenged. ‘This is it! You won’t see me again!’

Kat entered and saw me pressed against the counter, listening.

‘Don’t.’ She frowned. ‘Give them some privacy.’

‘I will,’ I said, straining to hear.

The neighbour shouted something about suicide rates – his implication being that, without him, his ex was destined to top herself.

‘Can you believe this guy?’ I mumbled.

Satisfied with his parting declaration, the neighbour slammed his car door. I couldn’t see him, but predicted he would speed away, make a real show of it. Sure enough, his engine roared and I heard the squealing of tyres.

This was pretty much how it went every week. Never a dull moment.

 
Evil Yaya

This Greek grandmother was another memorable nuisance. She lived alone in the apartment next to mine and her adult son and his children lived just across the street. The whole family was preposterously loud and would come over multiple times a day to scream at each other (it was how they showed affection). They had ridiculously large family gatherings (I’m talking the size of a Flanders Reunion) every other weekend.

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Their whole dynamic was like a reverse Everybody Loves Raymond, with the grandchildren constantly coming over to pester their grandmother. Instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell like a normal person, they would scream, “Yaya!” multiple times like it was an ancient Spartan battle cry.

I don’t know what I did but, despite her limited English, this woman made it clear she didn’t like me. To me, she was scowly and aloof; to my girlfriend, and to other women in the building, she was warm and open. She kind of shattered my allusion that all old people are sweet and kind.

There was also the time she stole from me. Since I live on the other side of the country to my parents, my mother periodically sends me things by post. One time, she sent me a supermarket gift card to help with groceries. However, because I moved so often (like every 18 months), she could never remember my address. In this instance, she ended up sending the gift card to Yaya by mistake.

Though it was clearly not addressed to her, Yaya opened my mail and kept the card. It took over a week to get hold of her English-speaking son and explain the situation. He returned my mother’s card to me, but the gift card she’d included was conspicuously absent. The old bat had taken it. I received no apology from anyone in the family. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me and I stopped trying to be nice to her.

The Birbs

My previous apartment, the one next to Norma, was way up on the third floor. It had a balcony that overlooked an alley and some parkland. I was drawn to the many cool bird species in the area, so I laid out some seed to see if I could pique their interest.

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At first, only a few doves showed up. Naturally, I named them and studied their behaviours. I found it hilarious when the male would put everything into his elaborate mating dance only for the female to fly away in terror. Before long, word spread and I had a local menagerie of wild birds showing up expecting their daily feed.

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The cockatoos were my favourite. They were beautiful to look at, full of personality and relatively tame (they let me pat them without needing to build trust!). At first, only one relatively docile pair showed up, but they had clearly violated the implicit secrecy of our arrangement as more and more of their friends began turning up. Soon, I had a flock of cockatoos terrorising me.

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Fuck!

They would aggressively tap their peaks on the window to get my attention. Their blood-curdling screeches still terrify me today. They could also be vindictive, with one knocking off an ornament when he didn’t get his own way.

I realised then that my bird-feeding hobby had gotten out of hand. The constant fluttering of wings, the cooing and squawking, all the bird shit… it wasn’t fair on my neighbours. I had to shut the whole operation down and contend with admiring them from afar.

The Good One

As someone who generally keeps to himself, my idea of the perfect neighbour is someone who’s relatively quiet, cordial in passing and doesn’t make my life any harder. As I’ve hopefully illustrated above, this assortment of qualities is rarer than you might think.

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Then came Neil, a young professional who, on the week I moved into my current place, poked his head over the fence like Wilson from Home Improvement to introduce himself and offer free use of his electric mower. I politely declined and stuck with my push mower, mostly because I enjoy the exercise and feel weird about being indebted to others. However, the gesture always stuck with me.

On top of being normal and sane, Neal was an incredible blues guitarist. I know most people dread the thought of living next door to musicians, but he was super talented and played so seldomly that it was a treat to hear. He would even knock on my door to forewarn us if he was having people over. There was also his awesome cat, Mingus, whose meow sounded like Shy Guy from Mario Kart and whose facial markings made it look like he had a moustache. He would come over every so often to say hello to my indoor cat.

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Neil was one of the best neighbours I’ve had. So, naturally, he and his partner moved out earlier this year after living in this building for seven years. I guess I don’t get to have nice things.

Real talk: the lockdown doldrums have hit hard for me this year. I haven’t seen any family or friends all year and I’ve left my suburb exactly twice since March. I really miss physical outlets like boxing and the gym, which kept my head on straight (though lately I’d even settle for a walk in the park without the mandatory mask).

I’ve come to dread going to the supermarket, where selfishness overwhelmingly pervades, and I envy my friends up north, for whom quarantining was a fun and brief novelty, and for whom life long ago returned to normal.

Through it all, gaming has been a necessary salve. It’s distracted me, offered challenges to overcome and allowed me to stay somewhat connected with others. Here are the games I’ve completed so far this year.

January

Untitled Goose Game

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Where all your missing socks go.

Honk! Untitled Goose Game is a quirky stealth-based puzzle game that became a viral internet sensation on the strength of its vibrant art style and fresh premise (you’re a goose who harasses people!). It’s one of those rare meme games with actual substance.

At just a few hours long, Goose is small in scale, but it’s executed brilliantly. The controls are fluid and simple enough that even someone with limited gaming experience can have a good time. Just messing around as the goose is a joy unto itself. Experimenting with different actions is immensely satisfying and I enjoyed seeing the townsfolk react to my random acts of mischief.

The charming animations and outstanding soundtrack, which was woven meaningfully into the gameplay, made this an early highlight of the year. A true labour of love from Melbourne developer House-House.

 

February

Fable Heroes

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An ice-cold misuse of the IP.

Fable Heroes is a simplistic, almost throwaway action hack-and-slash game set in the universe of the popular Xbox RPG series. Its elements of randomness make it a fitting party game that would no doubt come alive with four players. We played in two-player co-op and had a decent enough time with it.

Rather than going with the traditional Fable art style, Heroes employs this chibi pop-up book style. There was a novelty in seeing marionette versions of Albion’s greatest heroes and villains. Unfortunately, this game really needed an Xbox One X enhancement patch as the muddy resolution and visual clutter caused me to lose track of my character a lot.

This game was fine, but I’m glad Microsoft is no longer abusing the Fable licence with low-effort cash grabs. Here’s hoping the just-announced Fable 4 blows us all away.

 

Crash Bandicoot (Crash N Sane Trilogy)

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What I expect it will say on my tombstone.

I was a Nintendo boy growing up, but I have clear memories of poring through gaming magazines, staring longingly at colourful screenshots of PlayStation’s signature platformer Crash Bandicoot. It took over two decades, but I finally got around to playing through Naughty Dog’s 1996 classic (via Vicarious Visions’ 2017 remaster).

Overall, I enjoyed it. The world and characters were full of personality. Crash himself is edgier than Mario but not as obnoxious as Nineties Sonic. The level design was memorable, with some awesome themed worlds and novel platforming gimmicks. And that sound it makes when you pick up a Wumpa Fruit? Satisfying.

My overwhelming impression, though – the thing that really stuck with me – was how annoyingly difficult it was. I know my way around tough platformers, having beaten most of the classics (early Mario, the Donkey Kong Country series, Banjo, Rayman, Shantae, Super Meat Boy, etc.), but this game had me pulling my hair out in a few spots.

After investigating, I discovered that this already-difficult game was actually made harder because the physics system used in this remaster doesn’t perfectly align with the heritage hitboxes. This makes it tough to judge precision jumps. Compounding this is the old-school limited lives system and sparingly placed checkpoints. The suspension bridge stages were a total shitshow, as were the endless labyrinths, ‘Castle Machinery’, ‘Slippery Climb’ and ‘Stormy Ascent’ (ugh). ‘Fumbling in the Dark’ was another aptly named thorn in my side.

I prevailed in the end, but I’d be lying if I said this game didn’t draw some colourful language out of me. I like tough platformers but don’t enjoy when that challenge is predicated on broken mechanics. Supposedly Cortex Strikes Back and Warped are a little fairer so I look forward to giving those a (Crash) bash soon.

April

Ori and the Blind Forest: Deluxe Edition

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I wish Real Life looked like this.

Ori and the Blind Forest was one of the first Xbox One games I played, way back in 2014. I enjoyed it then and found it held up on my second playthrough. This time, I tried the Deluxe Edition, which features new areas, new abilities, some Quality of Life improvements, and a suite of new achievements. This version is more robust and polished, streamlining some of the original’s more tedious elements.

This replay served to deepen my appreciation for Ori and the Blind Forest. The controls, soundtrack, visuals and storytelling are all first-rate. You can feel the love and care the team put into every element of its design. They also struck just the right balance with the game’s difficulty. I’m nervous but eager to (eventually!) check out the sequel.

Doom (1993)

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Take that, 2020!

Not experiencing OG Doom in its heyday is one of my great gaming regrets. Getting around to it now, some 27 years after its release, I expected to struggle with dated mechanics and antiquated design choices. But to my surprise, I loved this game; in fact, I enjoyed it more than most modern first-person shooter campaigns, which are typically linear and overly concerned with being ‘cinematic’. There’s something timeless about zipping around a claustrophobic maze laying waste to any demon unlucky enough to step into my crosshair. I wish I’d gotten to it years ago, but experiencing it for the first time at a crisp 60 frames per second was a great consolation.

Doom’s combat is fast and visceral, requiring quick thinking and a cool head. I loved unwittingly springing traps and having to fight my way out of tightly packed arenas. Doom gives you one hell of an arsenal (pun absolutely intended) and I appreciate that I had the freedom to approach combat as I saw fit. This added a small strategic element: do I obliterate everything in this room quickly to spare health or ration my rockets for a future boss encounter?

In short, Doom is an absolute classic and a must-play for FPS enthusiasts. Even its OST is phenomenal. Bring on Doom II and Doom 64!

Doki Doki Literature Club

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Natsumi is best girl.

I checked this out on the back of a wave of internet buzz and found the hype was mostly warranted. On the surface, it’s a visual novel-slash-dating simulator set in an after-school literature club. However, it quickly veers into unexpected territory. I’m reluctant to say more as the surprise is an integral part of the experience.

Even without the ‘twists’ that set this apart from other games of its ilk, Doki Doki engaged me with mature writing and a willingness to explore complex themes like mental health and, err, male gratification. It’s only a few hours long and exemplifies the kind of unique stories that are only possible through this medium.

Oh, and it’s completely free! Check it out here if you’re interested.

A Plague Tale: Innocence

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The visuals are good enough to eat off.

A Plague Tale is a cinematic stealth game with rich, movie-quality storytelling. For an indie title, this game has phenomenal production values. The graphics, mocap performances and voice acting are all top notch, easily rivalling some of the stuff coming out in the AAA space.

The game tells the story of Amicia, a young woman thrust into the role of guardian of her younger brother, Hugo, who’s been sheltered from the world his whole life. Hugo is afflicted with a mysterious illness that may form the key to stopping a pestilent plague ravaging France. Amicia and Hugo must contend with seas of rabid rats while simultaneously avoiding their violent pursuers, the Inquisition. It’s an interesting and well-told story that, save for a few slow chapters spent searching for McGuffins, held my interest until the end.

Unfortunately, A Plague Tale is another example ofa title so desperate to emulate Hollywood that it is barely a game. That is to say it’s stuffed with non-interactive cutscenes, linear to the point of claustrophobia, and its puzzles and gameplay systems are so rudimentary that they require no skill or critical thinking.

You spend the entire game tiptoeing around patrolling guards whose A.I. and movement patterns are so basic they might as well be lifted from the castle courtyard section of 1998’s Ocarina of Time. All game long, you mindlessly shoot guards with a lock-on slingshot and repel rats by lighting signposted lanterns as the game funnels you through (often literal) hallways.

There’s no challenge, no freedom to experiment. It’s such a restrictive, tightly curated experience that I can’t help but feel it would’ve worked better as a Telltale-style visual novel. I’m really in two minds about this. As a story, I found it relatively enjoyable (save for at least one pants-on-head-stupid storytelling decision). But as a game? Utterly tedious.

 

May

Resident Evil 7: Biohazard

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“Eeeethan!”

In my eyes, Resident Evil 7 is just a hair shy of being a masterpiece. It returns the franchise to its horror roots while simultaneously branching out into new territory (a first-person perspective!). I’ve played a fair few horror games but this (and maybe Outlast) was the first to genuinely spook me.

From the outset, the game disempowers you, stranding you in a remote mansion in the deep south with no weapons. The occupants of this house – the Baker family – are batshit crazy and seemingly unkillable. An early section of the game, where the patriarch of the family patrolled at random, created so much palpable tension that I noped out of the game for awhile.

As you progress, your character becomes armed and you begin to familiarise yourself with the mansion layout. This diffused some of this tension, but the game still kept a handful of surprises up its sleeve. My first trip down to the basement, where the oozing Moulded creatures lived, was deeply unnerving.

Almost every facet of this game was executed perfectly. The graphics were top notch, the atmosphere was creepy as shit, the level design was sublime, and the story and characters were highly engaging. The only thing that let it down was the portion at the end of the game where you leave the Baker mansion to explore an abandoned ship. By this point, you’re so well armed and familiar with the threats that it sort of devolves into an FPS lite.

 Despite this caveat, I rate this game very highly. It’s basically the interactive horror movie I’ve always wanted. Plus it’s virtually a standalone story, eschewing the two decades of narrative baggage the series had accumulated up to this point.

Resident Evil 0

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Perfect rendering of the Flinders Station bathrooms.

Resident Evil fans generally look down on Resident Evil 0, the 2002 prequel to the 1997 original. From my perspective, as a relative newcomer to this series, I found it fairly middling save for a few cool ideas.

Resident Evil 0 experiments with the formula of the original trilogy in a few key ways. For one thing, you now play as two characters simultaneously: unconvincing teenybopper rookie special agent Rebecca Chambers and the hardened fugitive Billy Coen. They’re virtually indistinguishable in a gameplay sense, though dual protagonists radically shake things up the puzzle design and item management system.

Unfortunately, these two ‘innovations’ singlehandedly kneecap an otherwise solid classic Resident Evil experience. Instead of storing your unwanted items in the saferoom ready for future use, you’re now forced to drop items on the ground when your inventory reaches its meagre capacity. This causes a lot of unnecessary backtracking as you generally have no idea when you’ll need particular items to solve puzzles or face off against boss creatures.

This issue also feeds into the puzzle design. Many of the puzzles require you to manually split Billy and Rebecca up. Typically, one character must go to Obtuse Point A carrying Obtuse Item X while the other character travels to Obtuse Point B carrying Obtuse Item Y. Combined, the poorly designed inventory system and illogical trial-and-error puzzles make for a seriously bad time. I have no shame in admitting that I opted to follow a walkthrough halfway through this game to spare myself the frustration.

Aside from these flaws (which, to be fair, are crippling and should not be understated), Resident Evil 0 is a cool game. The opening segment, in which you board a runaway ghost train, was super memorable and created one hell of a first impression. The rest of the game takes place in a boring industrial training facility but there are still a handful of cool set pieces. Capcom has also given this game the remaster treatment. With the updated models and resolution bump, this game really holds up visually.

Detractors commonly cite bland enemy design as one of this game’s shortcomings, but this didn’t really bother me. The creatures you face certainly aren’t as ‘out there’ as the monstrosities encountered in other Resident Evil games, but that’s to expected given that this game takes place during the onset of the outbreak. You predominantly battle infected animals that have been subjected to Umbrella’s cruel experiments. This made sense to me.

The story was interesting enough, but largely unnecessary. Like Rogue One in the context of Star Wars, you could remove this entry from the series’ chronology without affecting anything.

Overall, I’m glad I played this, but feel it has exactly the reputation it deserves. Playing with a walkthrough helped mitigate the otherwise terrible core game design decisions. Had I not done that, I’d probably be tearing this game a new one.

 

June

Slay the Spire

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Epic faceoff.

Slay the Spire is an innovative blend of card game and roguelike. I checked this out on a whim for a Game Pass Quest and it has quickly become one of my favourite games of all time.

Unlike other card games, Slay the Spire foregoes traditional deckbuilding and has players starting with a fresh deck each playthrough. No two runs play out the same, meaning players must adapt to challenges as they emerge.

You travel down branching paths engaging in card battles with assorted enemies, purchasing items and cards at shops, resting to upgrade your cards or recover your health, or hitting dynamic risk–reward squares (a bit like Chance in Monopoly). It’s difficult to describe what makes Slay the Spire so satisfying to play, but I really appreciate the strategic depth and the sheer amount of choices presented to the player in each run.

While starting over after a loss can be devastating, I never felt cheated. Victory always feels within the player’s grasp. The fun comes from studying enemy behaviours, experimenting with strategies and learning from your mistakes. It’s perfect for short bursts of play and deceptively addictive.

Alan Wake

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In this game, all the characters are cardboard cut-outs.

Finally, we have Alan Wake, a cult hit for the Xbox 360. Or as I call it: Game That Wants to Be a Movie #352. Alan Wake comes from Remedy Entertainment, an underdog studio that has never quite hit the big time but has nevertheless amassed a portfolio of highly regarded gems like Max Payne, Quantum Break and Control.

This stylised third-person shooter draws heavy inspiration from Stephen King and properties like Lost, The Twilight Zone and Twin Peaks. The premise is pretty cool. Alan is a bestselling author who travels to the idyllic town of Bright Falls to get over a debilitating stretch of writer’s block. His wife goes missing and strange supernatural events begin occurring all over town. It appears Alan is living out the events of a horror manuscript that he can’t remember writing.

Unfortunately, the premise is far and away the best thing about this game. The actual gameplay is exhaustingly tedious. Every encounter plays out the same way: you train a flashlight on a shadowy enemy until their ‘shield’ breaks, then you pop a few shots off at them. That’s it for the entire game. A simple loop like this would be fine if the combat was polished and fun, or if it occurred sparingly. Instead it’s clunky, repetitive, and there’s an absolute fuck-ton of it. All game long you’re either fumbling around in the dark, trekking through endless barren forest environments, or doing a janky two-step with non-threatening enemies.

Remedy crafted some incredible atmosphere here, particularly considering the limitations of the Xbox 360, but the overreliance on repetitive combat encounters squanders it. Other annoyances include awkward driving sections, getting pelted by endless flocks of ravens, and some laughably stilted platforming.

None of the elements came together for me. Alan Wake is just aggressively mediocre. It’s far too long and a drain to play through. Even the story, which is often held up as the game’s strength, was convoluted and uninteresting, and the characters (save for Barry) were unlikeable.

It sucks to have to end this on such a sour note, so I’ll mention the one thing this game did really well: it made me nostalgic for Max Payne.

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Predawn,

the gentle hour.

A walk in stillness

through misted streets,

breath frozen on the air.

 

Funnelled by streetlight

down shadowed alleys,

under rustling canopies,

a full thermos

and a clear mind.

 

Descend wooden steps,

alive with fear;

a stream

trickles

from somewhere in the darkness.

 

The inevitability of daybreak.

Dappled light

hits the path.

Navigate puddles and snaking trails,

a fox watching from afar.

 

Emerge at a clearing,

a sumptuous vista.

The sunlight,

a kiss of vitality

on an icy morn.

 

Noticing small things:

the timbre of distant barking,

seasons evidenced in

leaves crunching underfoot,

industry peeking through a forested skyline.

 

Joggers abound,

new routines birthed by circumstance.

Weimaraners and collies

frolic in soggy fields;

their owners, together but apart.

Following my fruit-related inspiration.

 

I’ve had the distinct displeasure of moving house five times in the last ten years. When I moved into my current place I was most excited about finally having a backyard (in Melbourne, that’s how you know you’ve made it). I fantasised about all the things I’d plant, the barbecues I’d host and the afternoons I’d wile away reading in the sun. (In reality, my lawn is eternally overgrown and I’ve killed more plants than I care to admit, but that’s beside the point…)

I was particularly taken with the lemon tree in the corner of my new yard. It was wild, unkempt and towered over everything, a burst of life against drab bricks. It also held the unspoken promise of unlimited lemon wedges for my summertime Coronas. You’ve got to think big, y’know?

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Though the tree bore no fruit, I figured that would change with the next change of season. Unfortunately, I made an unwelcome discovery one day while forcing my Amish-style push mower through the stubborn tangle of weeds that constitutes my lawn. The tree, it turned out, was very unhealthy: its branches swollen and full of unsightly callouses. It had been commandeered by no-good pirates wasps, the assholes of the insect family. This was upsetting. I didn’t want this amazing tree suffering in silence.

Following some internet research and a quick consultation with my parents, I determined that gall wasps were the culprit. These Australian natives implant their eggs into the stems of citrus trees. Over time, the branches grow bulbous in response to the feeding larvae. (They’re effectively Xenomorphs. Where’s the nearest blowtorch?) The mature wasps make their French exit, leaving the tree irreversibly damaged and unable to bear fruit. What a shitty fate.

The best thing for the tree – and its only shot at producing fruit again – is to cut away the infected stems and start over. So, with that in mind, I bought a hacksaw and file and got to work. This was a big job, made bearable only by the pleasant citrus aroma. It was physically hard work; the tree was covered in ants (as was I, by extension); I had to contort myself into some uncomfortable positions to reach particular branches; and I’m also low-key terrified of bees and wasps, so being right up in their business was not ideal. Furthermore, the tree itself was covered in razor-sharp spikes. You better believe I cut and impaled myself on those bad boys multiple times. All for the cause.

When all was said and done the tree stood stark and skeletal, a naked amputee. It dawned on me that I hadn’t thought to obtain the real estate’s permission before mutilating a tree that technically didn’t belong to me. With no guarantee it would grow back, I started worrying I’d made the wrong call. To ensure its best chance at survival, I bought a special citrus fertiliser and watered it religiously.

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Well, hope springs eternal as new growth eventually appeared. It was really gratifying to see the young buds unfurl and take shape (I see the appeal now, gardeners!). Over time, the tree grew back healthier and more vibrant than before. My property manager was sceptical at first but praised my initiative before long. I think she was just glad she didn’t have to lift a finger.

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And what of my Corona Dream (not to be confused with the current “Corona” Nightmare)? For awhile, I resigned to the possibility the tree might never bear fruit again. However, I’m pleased to report that earlier this year, roughly eighteen months after I first brutalised him for love, Señor Citrus delivered his first lemon! The possums got to it first, of course, but I’m confident more will follow. I’ll take any victory I can get.

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I haven’t been home in awhile.

The walls are painted black and

the dog doesn’t recognise me.

The creaking floorboards portend disaster.

Did they always?

 

I fumble in darkness

through rooms once mapped to mind,

recalling our last embrace:

self-conscious and

cobwebbed in bitterness.

 

Snow is falling,

the warmth a passing

memory, but the mark on the stove remains

from the time I tried (and failed)

to ignite your world.

 

Spiders crawl the walls.

A fly in limbo, I am

battered by circumstance,

a breath trapped in the breast,

flung from haloed innocence.

 

A feeling:

the house doesn’t want me here,

but it’s where I belong.

Maybe I’ll stay awhile.

Maybe I’m already gone.

July

Rivals of Aether

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I remember this episode of Street Sharks!

Growing up, I loved Super Smash Bros. Melee on the GameCube and always missed the series after migrating to Xbox (though Brawl and Smash 4 are pretty mediocre in my opinion; haven’t played Ultimate). I gave the free-to-play Brawlhalla a shot, but it didn’t gel with me. Rivals of Aether, however, is exactly my jam.

It’s ostensibly an indie version of Smash Bros. with pixel art and some wild original characters that feel like they were plucked from some Nineties Saturday morning cartoon. While not as feature rich as the series it imitates, Rivals is far better than you might think. The characters’ movesets a lot more complex and interesting than what’s offered in Smash. Some Rivals characters are insanely technical and mastering their mechanics is truly rewarding.

The controls are highly responsive, though the high skill ceiling makes it less accessible than Nintendo’s brawler. It seems to be aimed more at the esports crowd than casual audiences. That said, I still had a lot of casual fun with it. I just wish the Xbox version had a bigger online community.

 

The LEGO Movie: The Videogame

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Everything is average!

Some simple co-op fun with my girlfriend. It doesn’t reinvent the wheel or anything, but this was the most polished of the Lego games we’ve played. It was short, funny, and it reminded how much I enjoyed The LEGO Movie.

 

August

Shantae: Half-Genie Hero

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Still a better motivation than RoS Palpatine.

This is my second Shantae game so I can now officially declare myself a fan of this series. This sequel to Shantae and the Pirate’s Curse foregoes the old retro pixel art style in favour of a crisp and colourful anime-inspired look. I’ve heard some unfavourable comparisons to mobile games, but I thought the visuals were really nice.

Beyond this, Half-Genie still has the trademark Shantae personality in spades. The banter between characters never failed to elicit a smile and the infectious, high-energy soundtrack adds a great deal to the experience.

Unfortunately, when measured against The Pirate’s Curse, Half-Genie Hero feels like a bit of a half-step backwards as, to my disappointment, the developers opted for shorter arcade-style levels, rather than the more sprawling and cohesive ‘worlds’ of Pirate’s Curse. I also thought it was a strange choice to gate Shantae’s abilities behind magical transformations. Most of these had limited utility. The transformations were also a bit awkward to execute. To use them, you must stand still, cycle through a pool of transformations and rewatch Shantae’s (admittedly cute) belly dance sequence, which itself takes entirely too long. Considering this is the core mechanic of the game, it’s a bit frustrating that they couldn’t find a better way to execute this.

If it sounds like I’m being pedantic (basically my middle name), know that I still really enjoyed this game. It just didn’t quite live up to the very high standards set by The Pirate’s Curse.

 

Hue (100%)

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Hue shows its true colours.

Hue is an inventive puzzle-platformer with a striking visual style that meaningfully affects gameplay. As its name might suggest, Hue is all about colour. Its game world is monochromatic save for a selection of coloured traps and obstacles. To overcome these, you must utilise the ‘spectrum’, a colour wheel tool that can fill the blank canvas game world with a single colour. Adding colour causes any corresponding objects to fade into the background and disappear. In a nutshell, you must juggle and employ colours in tactical ways to open new paths or remove hazards. Each extra colour you attain adds to the complexity.

Hue is a short game that maximises on its unique premise. However, it also skirts the edges of tedium a few times. If it were any longer, it might wear out its welcome. The puzzles were reasonably simplistic. However, while the solutions were often readily apparent, the effort it took to physically move the necessary puzzle pieces into position could be frustrating. Movement is sluggish and many of the puzzles have timed elements with narrow windows in which to act. A single hit spelled instant death, which sets you back to the very beginning of the room and puzzle. I generally enjoyed Hue’s puzzles, but I’d be lying if I said painstakingly repeating some of them didn’t wear on my patience.

Still, novel experiences like this must be commended, even if the execution didn’t always do the concept justice.

September

Rayman Legends (100%)

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It was one of the Bluth family’s better parties.

Rayman Legends is the most fluid, satisfying 2D platformer I’ve ever played (and I’ve played a lot of them). Rayman himself is simply a joy to control: perfectly responsive with a broad selection of moves to utilise. Like in Sonic the Hedgehog, movement in Rayman Legends has an excellent sense of momentum, which made mastering the physics very satisfying. It’s exhilarating chaining moves together and barrelling through the challenge stages with abandon.

The level design here is completely off the wall in the best possible way. Each world is bursting with strange and creative ideas. The music stages are particularly inventive, as they repurpose classic pop songs into wild rhythm-based minigames.

The game also has tons of content (it took me literal months to unlock all the achievements) and most of it is playable in co-op, which is a cool feature. The developers even included classic stages from their previous title, Rayman Origins. This game is exceptional and, in my opinion, outshines many of Nintendo’s Super Mario offerings.

 

Blair Witch

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2 sPoOkY.

Blair Witch is a psychological horror game set in the titular film universe. Its woodland setting is beautifully realised yet terrifying, expansive yet claustrophobic. This game is very faithful to the source material (particularly the marginally underrated 2016 reboot film). I expected a disorienting roam through creepy woods and a mounting sense of dread. This certainly delivers on that front.

Unlike the movies, which feature core groups of young people, Blair Witch the game is a solo expedition. The main character, Ellis, is a former police officer and war veteran (best believe you’ll be untangling the traumas he’s amassed) who heads into the woods on a misguided quest for atonement. Along the way, he receives occasional phone calls from his police associates and girlfriend, which was a fitting means to play off other characters. The girlfriend angst was a bit lame, though, and reminded me of the Raiden–Rose codec calls in Metal Gear Solid 2.

The real star of the show is your canine companion, Bullet. Bullet serves as both a guide and Ellis’s sounding board. He’s well animated, behaves realistically and adds a great deal to the adventure.

Unfortunately, the game had a few issues. The story itself (a mystery about a missing boy) was engaging, but the sophomoric dialogue and hammy voice acting often broke my immersion. There were also some unfortunate performance issues at launch. A stuttering framerate is a great reminder that you’re playing a game and not actually exploring some haunted woods. The recurring ‘spirit’ boss encounters – the only tangible in-game enemies – were laughable and posed little threat. I wish the developers hadn’t bothered with enemies if they were going to be this embarrassingly ineffectual.

The puzzles were also too oblique at times. It wasn’t always clear where to go or how to trigger the next story event. This certainly added to the sense that I was lost in the woods, but that fear gave way to frustration when I was left to aimlessly wander for too long. Furthermore, the final section of the game was very underwhelming. It dragged on far too long, defusing all that accumulated tension and good will.

Overall, I enjoyed this game, but it could have been better. You can tell the team behind it really understood and respected the property, but good intentions alone don’t make a great game.

 

Pokémon Ash Gray

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Squirtle Squad represent!

This amusing ROM hack of Pokémon Fire Red faithfully recreates the early episodes and movies from the Pokémon anime series (well, as best as it can without travelling companions Brock and Misty).

I thought this was a fun but horribly balanced novelty. The fight against the giant Tentacruel was particularly unfair. Still, there was some nostalgic fun to be had.

 

October

Gears of War 3

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Marcus Fenix visits Downton Abbey.

My favourite Gears game yet. Everything I said about Gears of War 2 in my previous reflection applies tenfold. This time, the controls feel more fluid than ever, the story coalesces into something genuinely engaging, and the environments are even more vibrant and interesting. A stellar conclusion to the original Gears trilogy.

 

Borderlands: Game of the Year Edition

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“You gonna squeal before we cook ya!?”

More déjà vu (I wrote about Borderlands 2 in my last retrospective). To keep it brief(-ish): my mixed reaction to Borderlands 2 had me questioning whether the original Borderlands, which I held near and dear, was as good as I’d remembered. So is it? Yes and no.

The story in the original Borderlands might be relatively unambitious, but I greatly prefer its more grounded world-building. In Borderlands 2 every person you meet on your adventure is an exaggerated caricature or a thinly veiled setup for a contrived punchline (God, that 2012 meme humour). The overemphasis on bad humour made the world of Pandora feel silly and gormless instead of dangerous.

In the original Borderlands, most of the characters you meet – particularly the cutthroat mercenaries – feel like believable inhabitants of this world. There’s still humour, of course, but it feels appropriate to the situation. It has context. The quirkier characters feel like by-products of extreme and long-term isolation (gulp. Let’s hope that’s not where we’re all headed), and not like shoehorned meme humour. No one in Borderlands broke my immersion, whereas Borderlands 2 was rife with idiots like the comically obese redneck genius Ellie, the Attenborough-spoofing wildlife adventurer Sir Hammerlock, rival Irish gangs, and the obnoxious jargon-spouting Tiny Tina.

Gameplay-wise, I concede Borderlands 2 is a better and more refined experience. Its larger world and more varied content help stave off boredom. However, I prefer the way the gun and character progression systems work in the original game (though, fuck me, the vehicle physics in Borderlands are unbearable).

 

November

Unravel

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Winter: the bane of every nudist.

Unravel is another charming 2D puzzle-platformer (geez, was that all I played last year?). What sets this one apart is the breathtaking scenery. It turns out lovingly crafted Scandinavian locales make perfect platforming fodder.

Beyond its immaculate presentation, Unravel is a fairly conventional physics-based platformer. You play as Yarny, an adorable humanoid critter made entirely of yarn, who uses his own physical makeup to create tightropes, manipulate objects and scale great heights. The twist is that Yarny’s abilities are intrinsically linked to his health. Yarny is composed of a limited amount of yarn. As he walks, he leaves behind a trail of… well, himself. Every action – from walking to lassoing branches – expends yarn (and, in turn, his lifeforce). Lose too much and Yarny is reduced to an emaciated husk, forcing you to retreat and rethink your actions.

Unravel is a contemplative journey, but its relaxed pace belies just how challenging it can be. Fortunately, this never spills over into frustration. I’ll remember this game fondly.

 

ABZ Û

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Darling, it’s better down where it’s wetter.

ABZÛ is a strange one. It has no dialogue, UI, timer or score counter. Its story, if it even has one, is too abstract to be effective. As wanky as it sounds, it’s a game you have to experience. You play as a diver on a quest to… save the ocean, I guess, and this entails exploring all manner of ancient ruins and stunning seascapes.

ABZÛ is an artistic triumph. Its art style is mesmerising, and its orchestral soundtrack and ambient sound design were simply stellar. The sheer volume of marine life rendered on screen is incredible. Most are independently animated and exhibit their own unique behaviours. It’s like you, the player, are peering in on a rich, self-sustaining ecosystem.

Despite being fairly short, the magic of ABZÛ waned for me towards the end. It felt less like playing a game and more like meandering through some vivid art project. Fundamentally, the game wasn’t too different to Journey or RiME, which I played last year. However, I think I’ve just had my fill of beautiful, overly simplistic (I’m being generous: barely interactive) indie games for the moment.

Not that ABZÛ wasn’t a beautiful and worthwhile experience, but it needed more engaging gameplay (y’know, the whole reason we choose this medium) to hold my interest. I’ve sleptwalked through too many games like this now, which skate by on striking presentation. As charming as they are, I’m starting to think that if a game can’t grab me on the merits of its gameplay then I might as well watch a movie.

 

Final Fantasy VIII

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“You could be a part-time model!”

I was once a staunch defender of Final Fantasy VIII, the unfairly maligned red-headed stepchild of the franchise. But revisiting it as an adult, I can see with clarity that it’s just not a great game. It has elements that really, really work (namely the still-striking art design and the god-tier OST), but they don’t come together well at all. In fact, the game feels like it has a pathological aversion to making sense. Plot points are introduced then quickly abandoned (or else relegated insignificant by convoluted time travel nonsense).

The first quarter of the game (disc one) starts off promisingly enough, with strong world building and the establishment of some great lore. However, disc two abandons most of this setup in favour of bizarre, random developments and ultimately inconsequential side stories (like, get this: in a grounded universe that reflects our own, the game suddenly reveals that the headmaster of your military school founded it with the financial aid of a mysterious alien who lives in the school’s secret hidden basement. Upon said alien’s defeat, your headmaster has a nervous breakdown and runs away from his responsibilities, leaving a sullen seventeen-year-old with terrible social skills in charge of… everything – what?).

It’s very jarring when the initially grounded story begins assaulting you with insane revelations (sorceress from the future! An apocalyptic event where monsters fall from the moon! Gender-bender astral memory projection! A shared childhood that was collectively forgotten!). It’s actually impressive how incoherent and weightless everything feels. I’m convinced parts of this game were written by a bunch of different people with no plan or inter-communication. The same is true of the location designs, as a late-game futuristic technologically advanced utopia is at such visual and thematic odds with literally every location before it that you wonder if it was plucked from another game entirely.

Squall and Rinoa’s romance also makes no sense to me. Squall utterly (and justifiably) detests Rinoa for most of the game, but as soon as you reach the later acts the two suddenly decide they’re soulmates or something. Virtually every other member of this tiny cast is dull and undeveloped. I really wonder what went wrong with the writing on this game.

Then there’s the ridiculous battle system, which has enemies scaling to your level and becoming more dangerous the more you grind. It’s actually in your best interest to avoid levelling up and developing your characters, which is completely antithetical to traditional JPRG design. The less said about the tedious Draw system the better…

The only saving graces are Triple Triad, an addictive and highly nuanced card-based minigame, and a non-canon plot theory that frames the vaguely defined villain Ultimecia as an alternate timeline version of Rinoa (this would be so amazing).

All in all, I’m convinced Final Fantasy VIII has exactly the reputation it deserves. It’s an insanely high-budgeted fever dream and a low point for the series.

 

December

 

One Leaves (100%)

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I can’t take these vague directions!

One Leaves is a terrible video game by any reasonable metric. It’s ugly, poorly optimised and controls terribly. And yet I kind of enjoyed my short time with it… It’s a janky mess, sure, but it was more memorable than a lot of other games I’ve played.

It’s basically an endearingly earnest piece of anti-smoking propaganda masquerading as a horror game. How bizarre is that? The player must reach the end of a dilapidated maze before the three other competitors. Which fearsome antagonist has you fearing for your life? None other than lung cancer itself! The whole thing is a hilariously overwrought metaphor.

As the narrator ominously warns, only one in four people who take up recreational smoking will escape their addiction. As ridiculous as it sounds, the game actually does a reasonable job of creating atmosphere. The maze is full of graphic cancer-related imagery, like blackened lungs, rotting teeth, a sterile morgue and thick pillars of smoke. Exploring it is as gross and disgusting as a train station restroom.

Some sections of the maze are procedurally generated, so raw memorisation will only get you so far. As the seconds race by, navigating the confusing corridors becomes a tense affair. One Leaves is nothing special, but it’s fairly creative for what it is. It’s a good meme game and is worth a run-through for the laughs.

 

Half Life 2

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A day at the beach with Gordon Freeman.

What’s left to say about Half Life 2? It’s hugely influential, a critical darling and a towering example of exemplary game design. Experiencing it decades later with these lofty expectations, I half-expected not to like it, but I thought it was excellent.

Most modern first-person shooter campaigns are about tightly controlled spectacle. Modern gaming has conditioned me to mindlessly follow waypoints, so I don’t always pay a great deal of attention to my environment. Half Life 2, however, foregoes this handholding (hell, it practically lacks player direction entirely), which forced me to pore over my surroundings for environmental clues. This was really refreshing and caused me to engage with the game world in a way I rarely do.

The path to progress is linear but the environments are very open. Sometimes the route you must take is hidden or obfuscated by a physics-based puzzle that you might not even recognise. In most games, you might dismiss a high, seemingly inaccessible ledge as environmental filler, but in Half Life 2 nine times out of ten an area like this can be accessed if you’re creative enough.

What really stood out to me was how immersive Half Life 2’s world is. You really feel like you’re in the throes of an alien invasion. Humanity’s situation feels utterly hopeless, even as you eke out small victories. The game was also decently challenging. Gordon is fragile. It doesn’t take much to overwhelm him, so you must plan your approach carefully. Sometimes you must search for the correct path while avoiding deadly Striders, sniper fire, or a hailstorm of bullets from a squad of Combine soldiers. This made the world feel tense and dangerous.

I thought the game was generally well-paced, too; its lonelier, quiet moments stoked the tension and contrasting nicely against the few big set pieces. I loved both the tense indoor environments (replete with headcrab jumpscares) and the desolate outdoor vistas. The sound design was also top notch. Look, I’m preaching to the choir, but it’s amazing how ahead of the curve this game was.

Of course, there were a handful of moments that tried my patience and betrayed this game’s age. The tediously long speedboat section, for instance, made for a very underwhelming first impression. Then there’s the clinically braindead teammates who clog up the narrow hallways, blocking your path and dispensing patronising advice like, “Don’t forget to reload, Freeman!” But I can easily overlook these quibbles. On the whole, this game was excellent.

 

Plants vs Zombies Garden Warfare 2

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A fly kick for anyone who thinks my puns are corny!

For the longest time I was determined to hate the Garden Warfare subseries of Plants vs Zombies. I was a big fan of the original Plants vs Zombies tower defence game and lamented seeing the series contorted into another colourful hero shooter. To be fair, I’m not a fan of the insidious monetisation in this game, but the gameplay is undeniably great. It’s charming, rife with personality, and easy to pick up but difficult to master.

This game became my quiet little obsession for awhile. Its huge array of multiplayer options serve as a perfect palette cleanser when you’re tired of gritty realistic shooters. The PVE mode, in particular, is a real hoot.

It’s time for my annual-until-I-get-sick-of-doing-it retrospective on the games I completed in the previous year. This time it’s in two parts because I like to waffle.

January

Far Cry 3

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Ah, the outside world. From the Before Times.

I’ve been curious about Far Cry 3 since playing through the fourth entry years ago on my brother’s recommendation. The tropical setting looked like a great place to spend 30 hours and I’d heard positive things about the charismatic villain, Vaas.

Far Cry 3 was a genuinely great time. The gameplay was super engaging, even coming at it some seven years after release. It’s basically a big, dumb action movie set in an inviting locale with hilarious physics and a fun array of vehicles and weapons to play with.

To my surprise, the story really grabbed me. In the beginning, protagonist Jason Brody is an entitled frat boy looking to partake in some consequence-free debauchery with his douchey friends (no doubt a commentary on how westerners treat South-East Asia like their personal playground). However, he soon discovers this lawless island has been seized by pirates and a drug-peddling militia. The pirate leader, Vaas, kidnaps his friends with the intent to extort ransom money. Jason narrowly escapes, aided by suspicious natives, and begins the insurmountable task of rescuing his friends.

Initially, Jason is driven to kill out of necessity, as it’s the only way for him to achieve his goal. He realises he is naturally gifted at it and, over time, develops a taste for it. When the gang eventually reunites, Jason’s friends are horrified by his disturbing behaviour and attitude.

It’s not an especially deep story, but I loved Jason’s gradual descent into savagery. It’s a modern-day Heart of Darkness and I appreciated that the violence had thematic context. Like Vaas before him, Jason slowly surrenders his soul to the island. His transformation from selfish fratboy to ruthless killer suggests we all have an innate savagery waiting to be drawn out by the right circumstances. Pretty chilling stuff.

 

Star Wars Battlefront II

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“Rad Leader standing by.”

Even after all the controversy I was determined to go into this blind and give it a fair shake. I genuinely think EA and Activision are a cancer on the industry with their cookie-cutter game design and egregious monetisation tactics. Star Wars Battlefront II looked to exemplify these flaws with early reports suggesting it would take a whopping 40 hours of grinding to unlock iconic Star Wars characters like Darth Vader. The idea here was to incentivise players to circumvent the grind (which the developers themselves had created) by encouraging them to buy in-game credits with real-world currency. Gross!

However, following an unprecedented internet shitstorm, ‘Good Guy’ EA rolled back this absurd monetisation model to ensure no facet of the game was ‘Pay to Win’. Two years later, the game has seen a lot of dev support and has virtually turned its abysmal reputation around.

So what did I make of it? Well, it’s beautiful to look at and authentically captures the spirit of Star Wars. Seriously, the production values are super-duper impressive and would’ve made my head explode if I’d played this as a kid. Instead of building off the previous generation of Star Wars Battlefront games, this one is basically a casualified sci-fi reskin of DICE’s other large-scale shooter property, Battlefield. Not that there’s anything necessarily wrong with that.

The biggest and most-touted new addition here was the single-player campaign. This tells the supposedly canon story of a group of Empire remnants trying to rebuild following their defeat at the end of Return of the Jedi. You play as hardened Imperial commander Iden Versio and some forgettable supporting characters. Playing as the villains was an interesting twist. I enjoyed learning about Imperial culture and was particularly interested to find there is honour in their ranks. Most Imperial troops believe they are doing something noble by stamping out rebels. They genuinely believe the Empire’s reign stabilises the galaxy and brings prosperity (a similar idea was presented in The Mandalorian). It was refreshing to see they weren’t all blind megalomaniacs.

Unfortunately, our protagonists quickly learn the error of their ways when the militant new Imperial leader starts destroying loyal systems to strike fear and reinforce the Empire’s might. Iden and co. have their predictable “Wait! We were the bad guys all along!” moment of realisation and the story devolves into the usual heroism fluff. I would have preferred if the game had shown the rise of the First Order (y’know, since Episode VII couldn’t be bothered doing that). As it is, this story is fairly inconsequential.

Gameplay wise, this campaign is fucking dull as dishwater. It’s just a string of pretty-but-lifeless gallery shootouts against thoroughly brain-dead enemies. There are a few scripted set pieces that exist solely to teach you about characters’ abilities. The whole campaign is an overlong tutorial. It’s the embodiment of beige with some nice window-dressing.

The multiplayer suite is a lot better. There’s small-scale deathmatches, large-scale wars with dynamic objectives, space battles and the fan servicey Heroes vs Villains mode, where you can mess around as your favourite Star Wars badass. I find all this moderately entertaining, if a bit simple. I’d rather play Halo, which has better maps, a much more interesting weapon sandbox and a more satisfying gameplay loop, but Battlefront 2 is fun if you want to switch off most of your faculties. The gunplay feels incredibly imprecise and never really gelled for me. Same with the movement and general physics. With such large-scale battles it sometimes feels like your individual contributions don’t matter, but at least this reduces the pressure to perform well (that’s what she said!).

My least favourite thing about this game is the Star Card system. Clearly, this system was engineered to encourage real-world spending until the devs hastily rejigged it. Every character you play as, from infantry to Jedis, must be levelled up to unlock buffs and abilities. The grind to do this is painstakingly slow, but you gotta do it if you expect to get anywhere in matches. In the beginning, you’re frail and have few tactical options. This means a player who’s played the game longer and unlocked better Star Cards will curb stomp newer players, even if those newer players outplay them in raw combat. There’s just no way to compete when the enemy has double the health and outputs more damage. I hate this system as it effectively creates an artificial skillgap, with new players assuming the role of lambs to the slaughter.

I feel like I’ve already wasted too many words on this game. It generally induces apathy in me. I can’t wait until EA’s exclusivity deal with Disney ends. I can’t think of two worse companies to oversee Star Wars…

February

Doom (2016)

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Some demons practising social distancing.

What a goddamn masterpiece. I was worried I wouldn’t like this. While I’m not a camper per se, I tend to err on the side of caution when I play first-person shooters. I like to use my environment to my advantage and take enemies out at range. As in life, I’m not a run-and-gun type of player, but Doom mandates this particular playstyle with its fresh and original health regeneration system: ‘glory kills’.

The game is graphically stunning and features an epic industrial metal soundtrack that never fails to get the blood pumping. The gameplay is fast, visceral and highly kinetic. Every action you take gives clear and satisfying feedback. Instead of forming strategies you’re running on instinct and making snap decisions based on enemy patterns. The guns are distinct and fun to use, and the steady stream of new demon types means the challenge is always evolving. The boss fights were particularly intense and really tested my mettle.

My only real gripe was the campaign was a touch too long. Which is really to say the game spoiled me with fresh ideas with every level, then plateaued with roughly a third of the game to go. It was still a damn solid ride throughout. The multiplayer was also a blast, if a little lonely.

My Doom education continues, as I’ve since gone back to play the older titles. (Spoilers: They’re great!)

 

SUPERHOT

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Naked Red Guy: gaming’s most feared antagonist.

SUPERHOT is the most innovative shooter in years! Wink, nudge, hah. Inside jokes. But, no, this was an interesting experience that has more in common with physics-based puzzle games than traditional first-person shooters.

The story and presentation left me cold, but the gameplay was novel. While I enjoyed my time with SUPERHOT, I was glad it ended when it did. To me, it’s more of a glorified tech demo, a proof of concept. The central gimmick is neat, but I don’t think it had enough substance to sustain an entire game. A fun diversion, but a little overrated.

 

April

Never Alone

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Fox and friends.

Never Alone is a uniquely presented platformer steeped in the culture and folklore of an indigenous Alaskan tribe. I played it in co-op, where one player assumes control of a young girl and the other plays as a small fox. I think this was the ideal way to play it, as it necessitated communication and coordination (utilising each character’s abilities was essential to progress).

The level design was simple but held my interest, with each area adding new mechanics or tweaking existing ones. I enjoyed searching every crevice for the hidden owl collectibles.

Ultimately, this was a charming, inoffensive experience. A fun way to spend an evening, but not too memorable beyond that.

 

What Remains of Edith Finch

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It even caters to swingers!

I loved this game. Easily one of my highlights of the year, if not the generation. It takes that tried-and-true walking sim formula and weaves around it a smart, mature and subversive tale about superstitions and a family curse.

I really can’t say more without spoiling things. It’s highly imaginative and a bit avant garde. I highly recommend everyone checks it out. It’s a certified masterpiece that I won’t soon forget.

 

The Walking Dead: Michonne

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The Floating Dud.

The anti-Edith Finch! This game showed me how fatigued I am with Telltale Games and their formula. In fact, my main motivation for completing it was for the achievements. It wasn’t terrible by any stretch, but by this point the rote game design feels utterly stale.

The writing was okay. The characters were… fine. Honestly, I’m straining to remember much about it. So what were my impressions? It was short. And, err, it had this weird ill-fitting nautical theme. Seriously, if someone told you they were making a game about The Walking Dead’s sword-wielding badass Michonne I doubt your first thought would be: Can’t wait to spend five hours on a boat!

 

May

Q.U.B.E 2

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Q.U.B.E 2 is a first-person physics-based puzzle game in the vein of Portal. It features tough-but-fair puzzles that were satisfying to untangle. I enjoyed entering new and elaborate arenas – which, incidentally, look much more lived-in than Portal’s sterile chambers – and experimenting with the objects and physics to find a solution.

The story was completely impenetrable, but I still wrung some enjoyment from it. Something about ancient ruins, destiny and an advanced alien race. Hmm! The art design and voice work were impressive and elevated the experience.

Overall, an enjoyable if derivative Portal-esque experience.

 

June

Halo 3 (Solo Legendary Run)

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Me and the boys out for a hike.

I’ve finished each of the Halo games plenty of times, but until recently Halo 5 was the only one I’d even attempted to complete on Legendary difficulty. While I don’t have the skills or patience for LASO/Mythic runs, I do intend to finish each main Halo title by myself on Legendary.

Halo 3 seemed like the best place to start. It has a ripping campaign with exciting set pieces, tons of iconic moments, great pacing and, I was told, a reasonable difficulty level (relative to how notoriously unfair Halo 2 is said to be).

I’m glad I did this. It made me appreciate Halo 3 more (it’s not one of my favourites, if you can believe it). Bungie really nailed the level design here. As in most Halo games, the sprawling weapon and vehicle sandbox and dynamic A.I. means engagements can be tackled dozens of different ways. It’s incredibly satisfying cooking up crazy plans and knowing the game will let you execute them. Halo 3 really rewards the player’s creativity, allowing them to ‘express’ themselves through their choices.

This Legendary run was a fun challenge and not nearly as difficult as I’d feared all these years. I’d say the only sections of the game that gave me any real trouble were the sniper Jackals in Sierra 117, the fucking Scarab fight in The Storm (but, curiously, not the double Scarab fight in The Covenant) and, well, the entirety of Cortana, which is a frustrating, claustrophobic mess even on Normal.

 

Far Cry 5

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“I told you: the next person to touch the bobblehead gets it!”

Far Cry 5 is a polarising entry in the series. It certainly has issues, yet its amazing setting and fluid gunplay kept me coming back. Here’s a summary of what the game gets right:

The weapon and vehicle sandbox is as fun and varied as ever, affording you the freedom to approach combat however you like. Feel like skulking around and picking off stragglers? Go for it. Want to barge into every situation guns blazing? Why the hell not?
The general premise – a bible-thumping cult commandeering an entire state through a combination of brute force, propaganda and mind-controlling hallucinogens – is awesome. The cult leader, Joseph Seed, and his lieutenants-cum-family are so extremely twisted that they command your interest.
The setting is a vast, geographically diverse and lovingly rendered take on rural Montana. As such, there are all manners of hills, mountains, caves, streams, farms, towns and compounds to explore. The world genuinely feels alive, with foraging wildlife and NPCs going about their days.
The graphics are utterly gorgeous, particularly in 4K. I loved watching the days transition into nights, casting the world in realistic lighting.
The new buddy system is a blast. With it, you can pair up with distinct A.I. companions like a stoic sniper, a loyal doggo, a ferocious bear and a wisecracking redneck with a penchant for explosives. This is an excellent addition that livens up the whole experience and opens new tactical avenues.
The soundtrack is so good! Nothing beats driving around singing along to choir renditions of original Seed family hymns and folk songs. “Let the water wash away your sins!”
The mapmaker component is far better than it had any right to be. Talented players have used it to create a huge assortment of fun and inventive maps and game types. I loved seeing classic maps from other franchises or movie locations reproduced in the Far Cry 5

Now for the downsides.

For the most part, the game gives you the freedom to do whatever you want whenever you want. You can tackle the game’s three enormous regions in any order and explore, search for collectibles or take on missions as you please. As such, you really notice when the game strips that freedom away from you at a few arbitrary points.

Here, the game aggressively railroads you into progressing the story. The way this plays out is almost comical, as you are inexplicably ‘targeted’ by assassins who will interrupt whatever you’re doing (doesn’t matter if you’re in the middle of a mission, screwing around in a safe zone or even piloting a helicopter thousands of feet in the air) to drug and capture you. You awaken inside an enemy compound at the feet of a Seed family lieutenant. Your captor monologues at you before leaving you to complete a formulaic escape sequence. This happens multiple times throughout the game and plays out the same way each time. It’s jarring, silly and completely unwelcome.

Then there’s the perplexing decision to undermine the story with a silent protagonist. I can’t understate what a huge regression this is for the series. Remember everything positive I said about the journey taken by Far Cry 3’s protagonist, Jason Brody? Well, no such journey occurs in Far Cry 5, and that’s by design. There is no character here; just a nameless, voiceless, interchangeable avatar.

I believe this decision was a reaction to the middling response to Far Cry 4’s protagonist Arjay Ghale. Unlike Jason Brody, who forms a crucial part of Far Cry 3’s narrative, Arjay was this bland white saviour everyman who only superficially influenced the events of Far Cry 4. Players were right to criticise him. However, for Ubisoft to respond by completely gutting their next protagonist’s personality was a staggering overcorrection.

I have this hunch that the real reason Ubisoft Montreal chose not to define or characterise the protagonist was because they wanted players to express themselves through the creation of their own avatar. The cynical motive here was to get players to spend real-world money on clothes and other premium cosmetic garbage.

Sure, customising your avatar is neat, but it absolutely should not come at the expense of a bona fide protagonist. It’s so jarring, so immersion shattering, when the psychopathic scene-stealing villains subject you to psychological torture, only for the protagonist to react like a plank of wood. Or when friendly NPCs address you as ‘Hey you!’ or ‘The Sheriff’ because they can’t address you by name.

It’s a miracle I still found the story engaging, considering these lame one-sided interactions. This is thanks to the strength of the writing and the amazingly charismatic antagonists, the Seed family, who are each driven by their own deranged sense of morality.

Finally, the paid DLC packs for this game are very mediocre. I enjoyed the comedic sci-fi buddy cop side adventure, Lost on Mars, but the others were a huge drag.

All up, the game has some frustrating caveats, but Far Cry 5 is more than the sum of its parts. Despite some glaring issues, the addictive gameplay loop makes it one of my favourite games in recent years. The controversial ending didn’t bother me either, as the premise and existence of the game’s sequel, Far Cry New Dawn, had emotionally prepared me for it.