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That's my gripe with this expansion: it's not only tied into Alan Wake's story, its cutscenes are in Alan Wake's storytelling style. The author-narrating-himself, verbose-stream-of-consciousness style that I didn't care for in that game.
Otherwise, it's the same Control stuff - weird environments, creepy conspiracies, paranormal combat action, that stuff - I'd already fallen in love with. And like The Foundation, this expansion has a satisfying amount of that content to play around in.
It doesn't have as much distinctive gameplay as The Foundation did, though; just some light-based puzzles and puzzle-boss-battles that, while neat, could get a little frustrating (what with unpredictable shadow-monster super-attacks).
... but, despite AWE's fixation on some other game, it's still a fulfilling and fun experience for anyone wanting more Control.
Control: The Foundation adds lore and mechanics to the base game, but they fit Control's mold so well, that I'd really call The Foundation "more of the same." In a good way!
More strange and imaginative environments, including the tried-and-true like haunted offices, but also new cavern spaces that showcase late-game mobility powers.
More bizarre and ominous story beats and backstory collectibles, building on your previous interactions with the astral plane, but also shedding new light on the history of the Bureau and The Oldest House.
More paranormal gameplay mechanics, which don't overshadow your existing powers, but set up some exciting new navigation and combat challenges.
(More weapon mod types, which I could've done without, since none of their esoteric benefits were better than my already-optimized loadout.)
And it's got a substantial amount of content, filling a fairly hefty sub-map with story objectives and optional side-missions.
The Foundation ticks all the same boxes as Control's main game, without feeling overly familiar.
Much more so than Alan Wake, whose ... flashlight thing never grabbed me, Control pulled me in with interesting gameplay right away. And what makes that gameplay resonate is that it works so well with Control's weird theme and narrative: mission objectives delivered from the astral plane, levels that teleport you through a ghostly motel, an ability that lets you telekinetically toss around chairs and photocopiers, et cetera.
Combat, in which you use your mystical handgun (as well as said chair-tossing) to whittle down enemies' health bars, is simple enough to be immediately accessible -- but still dynamic enough, with diverse enemies requiring varied tactics, to stay interesting as the game proceeds. Well, some encounters keep spawning enemies for too long, and it can be irritating when you're badly hurt but have to fight for health pickups; but it's mostly a fun time.
Control even manages some Metroid-ey free-roaming world design, with locked rooms and out-of-reach passages that you'll need to revisit later with future upgrades. Although the map does a kinda poor job of showing those paths, and actually, most of them don't open up until near the end of the game anyway.
At the end of the day, though, it's the thematic integration of Control's features - how office doors require a security clearance, and level terrain shifts and twists around paranormal events, and "lore" collectibles play at the Federal Bureau of Control's involvement in real-life history (like Havana syndrome) - that really make it shine.
And as dark and ominous as Control can be, it's also not afraid to have fun with itself.
Control is unapologetically strange, it's often oppressively creepy, and it's overall ... well, weird. But in a good way, that's enticing and kept me engaged for its duration.
Your player is stuck in a time loop; their goal is to break the loop. Until then, they can use a loadout-menu option to save items from one loop to the next.
Eventually, when the player breaks the loop and sees the end of your story, do you:
Skip the loadout menu and its option to save items, because narratively, the loop is broken; or
Still allow the player to save items, because it's a video game, and they might play it again.
The correct answer is B. (Or even better, C: allow players to manage items during regular gameplay so this doesn't need to be a separate step.)
Deathloop chose A, and -- it's not like I'm heartbroken that several new "Double Trinkets" and a frickin' laser beam vanished after I watched the Goldenloop update's extended ending.
I just think it's funny that one of the update's highlight features (the ending) was responsible for me losing its other additions.
That extended ending, by the way, is just a nice-looking cutscene that complements the existing "break the loop" conclusion. Nothing new or surprising here. Cool to watch, though.
Here I go, getting stuck in yet another time-looping mystery. This time, it's Groundhog Day with ... ancient Romans?
The Forgotten City began life as a Skyrim mod - an award-winning one, apparently - and while its transition to a standalone Unreal title hangs on to some "Bethesda game" aesthetics and control quirks, it's remarkable how clear and uncompromising The Forgotten City's narrative focus is.
The game makes its intentions clear pretty immediately: you're going to watch an NPC's face move as they talk at you, you're going to respond to that NPC with a menu selection, and you're going to remember pertinent facts in a "Goals" list that points you toward the next clue, in each of a number of varied mystery threads.
At first, the world and its cast can feel a bit bewildering -- no thanks to a lack of minimap and in-game timeline. (Elsinore has clearly spoiled me on those.) It can be hard enough to keep the names Galerius and Horatius straight, nevermind remembering where their living quarters are.
But as you listen to and verbally dissect these characters, you'll become closely acquainted with their personalities, their motivations, and how they're putting up with one another in this unusual city. It doesn't take long to get invested in the fates of these weirdos.
The Forgotten City's story is not a straightforward one, but it hums along naturally and believably thanks to the cast's expressive dialog and well-acted voice work. Even if the facial animations can look a bit off, and even if there are a handful of "exposition dump" moments where someone drones on and on... they're still a pleasure to listen to.
It may lack some user interface sophistication, and its puzzles probably won't blow your mind, but The Forgotten City's great writing and voice-overs deliver the hell out of a distinctive time-travel detective story.
Better than: Why Am I Dead At Sea Not as good as: Elsinore True to Elder Scrolls form: I've hoarded all this bread and now I don't know what to do with it.
Gears 5's opening act is peak Gears, a tutorial-ish opening mission followed by scope-setting exposition that quickly gives way to a bombastic non-stop thrill-ride through multiple set-piece moments overflowing with bullets and explosions.
Then, the game slows way down for a jarringly mellow walk-around-town sequence. You can eavesdrop on NPCs' idle chatter, and collect a bunch of nigh-meaningless collectibles, until you eventually find out that Jimmy Smits was re-cast in a narratively-weighty sequence that finally plots an interesting character arc for Kait.
And then, surprise! It's an open-world game now. Your mini-crew of Kait and Del hop on a skiff with a windsail, and cruise around a ... mostly-empty ice-scape, to freely pursue your choice of ... a very short list of side-quests.
Suddenly the meaningless noise back in town makes sense: those NPCs were probably going to be quest-givers, maybe with objectives like "destroy 3 Swarm hives" or "collect 10 Scion helmets." One of their chatter topics about some runaways does relate to a couple of optional objectives.
But, for whichever assortment of reasons, it's clear that a larger plan for sidequest content never came together; and the map that we're left with is just a dull navigation chore. (The few quests that did make the cut aren't very enthralling, either -- just brief fights that're rewarded with a minor robot-helper upgrade.)
Once you finish the primary objective in ice land, you're then transported to ... a sandy desert map, along with your skiff. Rinse and repeat. At least, this time, your fireteam grows and there's some fun traveling banter.
The game's final act is another linear series of shootouts, but shorter than the opening, even padded up by several not-really-interactive scenes. And a bafflingly-late narrative choice that comes out of nowhere and has no meaningful consequences. Why is this even here?
Gears 5's reach definitely exceeded its grasp. The open areas have excellent visual design, and it's impressive that they work technologically, but scant sidequests and a total lack of sandbox content makes them feel incredibly empty. And while it continues to do fine with linear encounters, these peak early and run out of steam by the end.
Not to mention, Kait's character growth is once again drip-fed and left dangling until the next game.
My recorded memory of Gears of War 3 was surprisingly positive, especially about the quality of its writing. What happened in that game again? I think... a grizzled old military scientist, the presumed-dead father of the franchise's protagonist, committed chemical-weapon genocide against the under-dwelling "Locust" bug-mutant people...?
Well, whether or not that memory is reliable, I know it's possible for an action-oriented shoot-bad-dudes game to also have great writing and showcase compelling characters (like Nate and Sully). And I know that Gears of War 4 doesn't come anywhere close.
I'm not complaining about its non-subtle, obviously-reiterated premise of "human-on-human conflict interrupted by gross monsters" -- hell, a prologue chapter goes out of its way to remind you that this has happened before. The theme of failing to learn from past wars' mistakes is practically in the title.
But this iteration's cast of characters is summarily, thoroughly uninteresting. JD Fenix (hey, legacy) is the leader, 'cause he's mildly decisive; Del is the comic relief, with all of three or four jokes throughout the campaign; and Kait is present. Uncle Oscar has a little curmudgeonly charisma, so of course he dies in the opening act.
Dialog in Gears 4's cutscenes has all the dumb bravado of a space marine stereotype without any over-the-top self-parody. There are brief, as in fleeting, as in blink-and-you've-missed-it, hints of interesting stories behind these characters: JD rebelling against his father, JD and Del going through COG training together, Kait and her mother raising an "outsider" village. But the game doesn't tell any of these stories, or even leverage them for meaningful characterization.
Alright, alright, so the story is a flimsy excuse to stitch action setpieces together. How are those? They're ... fine?
For most of the campaign, Gears 4 succeeds at re-doing what previous Gears have already done. Not just in the abstract, like coordinating with your team behind chest-high cover, and paying close attention to your reload timing; but even in specific mechanics, like swarm nests which are the same thing as emergence holes, and wave-based defense sections demonstrating "Horde 3.0" which doesn't really stand out from version 2.
There are some new robotic enemy types who bring a few new weapons with them ... in the first third of the campaign, before they virtually disappear. Then the "swarm" enemies, who have the same archetypes and behaviors as the Locust, show up carrying Lancers, Hammerbursts, Longshots, Torque Bows, and Mulchers.
I know I'm sounding pretty down on Gears 4, and its seeming contentment to exist in its predecessors' shadow, but it's worth keeping in mind that a different development studio made this. From a technical and production perspective, it's pretty impressive that The Coalition was able to replicate Epic's trilogy so competently.
Still, as a player, I would've been "meh" on Gears 4 if not for its genuinely fresh and awesomely satisfying final act where you pilot a g-damn giant mecha, and literally stomp on enemies like they're ants.
Gears 4 shows that the new crew can do what the old one did. Now I'm looking forward to seeing what else they can do.
There's only a little bit of time looping in Tacoma. But it's still weird how I keep running into it.
Anyway! Tacoma, from the makers of Gone Home, is more than "just another walking simulator." Sure, it's a first-person narrative exploration game, and sure, the main story beats are in a forced linear sequence; but Tacoma uses self-directed interactive elements to fill the space between those beats, and rewards your curiosity with additional background and scene-setting.
Its core mechanic, replaying recordings of a space station crew's movements and dialog - and learning what happened by following and snooping on them - is really great at immersing you in the game's world. It's actually surprising how much walking behind a 3D recording pulls you in, as a means of both revealing the plot and illustrating the crew's characters.
(Tacoma also has a subtle, but elegantly-done, "puzzle" mechanic of cracking keypad codes by ... well, I won't give it away.)
It's not a surprise that Tacoma's story is well-written and well-acted, but it is impressive how poignant that story feels in today's pre-cyberpunk (or... early-cyberpunk?) landscape. The greedy corporations treating workers like garbage trope may be well-worn, but, Tacoma does the hell out of it.
Despite being a brief experience (2-3 hours), one could argue that Tacoma's real-time events and interactivity elevate it beyond a mere "walking simulator." I, for example, would argue that.
It's been a while since my last fully linear, rollercoaster-ride shooter campaign. (I checked! it was Wolfenstein II.) Your everyday Call of Duty or Battlefield entry just doesn't catch my eye; but Titanfall 2 did, with its generally positive internet reputation and its - well - big ol' robots.
The campaign's story isn't very noteworthy, really just an adequate excuse to run through levels and chase down some big-bads. I appreciate that the game's mid-bosses have just enough personality to make defeating them feel satisfying; but it's hard to take the story's stakes seriously when villains pop open their cockpits mid-battle to taunt you, or when ridiculous shit like time travel happens and everyone is totally unfazed by it.
And the shooting is also, really, "just pretty okay" in both Titan and Pilot formats. Most of the Titan loadout options feel like they exist more for variety than for practicality, and few of the Pilot's weapons were particularly memorable for me. (Which creates a usability problem, since the game doesn't tell you what kind of gun you're looking at until you pick it up. Like, dude, just show me the "shotgun" or "rifle" designation when it's on the ground; the models aren't distinctive enough!)
But! What does make Titanfall 2's campaign stand out, and what enhances the story's pacing as well as every shootout encounter, is its slick locomotion. Like some kind of Mirror's Edge-with-jetpacks chicanery, Titanfall 2 lets you wall-run around the arena, vault over enemies with a double-jump, even crouch-slide past a vanguard and shoot them right in their confused butts.
And although the campaign doesn't last very long (4 hours), it nevertheless manages to take great advantage of these parkour-with-guns mechanics with some really radical level designs, from floating walls and rotating platforms to running around the exterior of an airship. All while shooting at things!
Titanfall 2 doesn't exactly flip the script on first-person shooter campaigns, but its high-maneuverability combat encounters are a bunch of fun while they last.
(Also, between this game's BT and Jedi: Fallen Order's BD-1, I'm starting to suspect that someone at Respawn likes robot characters more than human ones.)
So... this time, it's Groundhog Day with Shakespeare.
Elsinore is, from the jump, a contemporary re-telling of Hamlet. You've got your throne-stealing fratricide, your dead king haunting up the place, your angsty teenage prince hanging out in graveyards, all the classic plot points; but Elsinore's dialog is written more like what human beings in the 21st century might say to each other.
There are a few casting adjustments, including gender-swapped Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (now, cheekily, "Rosie" and "Guilda") and multi-racial Ophelia and Laertes. These aren't just superficial tweaks: female characters lament their lack of freedom and influence in the world, and Laertes' personality is shaped by the alienation and discrimination he's faced in super-duper-white Denmark.
(Laertes is also a fascinating foil to the more laid-back personality of Othello, who makes a surprise crossover appearance in Elsinore's castle town.)
But Elsinore isn't just a punched-up and self-sufficient take on classic Shakespeare -- it's also a time-looping murder mystery game. You, as Ophelia, must prevent your own untimely death!
The majority of Elsinore's gameplay is information gathering, talking to and observing characters to learn their scandalous secrets. An in-game timeline (like the Bombers' Notebook in Majora's Mask), and a map tracking the cast's movements, guide you toward the story's many parallel and intertwining threads; being in the right place at the right time, to eavesdrop on the right person, will unlock some new information that you can reveal to someone else leading to more revelations and so on.
And as you gradually uncover the truths behind King Hamlet's death, and Claudius's plans, and the Norwegian spy, and the castle guards' late-night tomfoolery, you can use this information to change the story. Tell someone a secret - or even a lie - that will influence them to do something different, and that could alter the chain of events throughout Elsinore.
Even if you still die, the info you gather might let you try something new in the next loop.
There are some parts of the game that feel a little under-polished: like the bland "Try Again" screen at the end of a loop, and the lack of a Skip button for conversations you've had before (so you need to furiously click through each dialog box again), and the timeline's fairly inaccurate timestamp values.
The ending situation is also a bit unsatisfying, although that seems somewhat intentional and very "on brand" for Shakespearean drama. After going through a few of the fate options in the Book of Dionysus, they start to feel tedious and checkbox-ey, which certainly reinforces Quince's ranting about the futility and boredom of mortal existence.
But ultimately those are pretty minor defects in Elsinore's expertly-written story and compelling detective mechanics. And there's so much written content to explore, here, that I was still peeling away and finding fresh layers more than a dozen hours later.
Not what I was expecting from a game based on Shakespeare.
