After playing through the Wonderful 101 demo on the eShop, I ... still don't really understand the game very well.

On a micro level, there are a handful of mechanics that - after being thrust upon me with little or no tutorial text - I've become accustomed to. You lead a team of semi-artificially-intelligent people through a level, but unlike Pikmin, the character you play as (the team's "leader") is itself one of these people, and you can change who it is on the fly. By either drawing simple gestures on the GamePad screen, or moving the right analog stick along the same gesture, you can direct your horde into the form of a weapon: a giant fist, a giant sword, or a (giant) gun, plus some other semi-hidden shapes I discovered by accident. You can then proceed to use this weapon to wail away on enemy robots -- or, you can order some of your teammates to take the weapon instead. You can split off up to three weapons in this way, and wield a fourth yourself, forming a dynamic AI team.

There are block and dodge moves as well, which involve respectively turning your crowd into a shield, and executing some kind of worm, shark, jump thing maneuver. In short, the pieces are all here for an attack-and-dodge character-action game; but the catch is that your character is made of a number of tiny people. And you'll add to this number by rescuing citizens on your way through the level; which allows you to make bigger weapons, and to split off more at a time.

And then you ... do what with all this? I'm still not totally sure. The level on display in the demo showed a pretty bewildering variety of activities, in the name of saving a city from alien invaders (I think): largely combat based, but also including some puzzle segments, where I had to turn dials to match a code, and some quick-time events that, mercifully, weren't all that quick. There were a few interjections from a helper-robot to explain what I was doing, but not enough that I actually got a clear picture of the level as I was playing in it. The game mostly felt like I was screwing around, not in service of any particular goal.

I'm willing to chalk that up to myself still not really understanding the game; it seemed like the demo level was pulled from the beginning, but not the very beginning, of the campaign, and so there were plenty of explanations missing. What I'm really struggling with, though, is the fixed-perspective camera. Considering the game's action is all in 3D, and particularly given the frequency with which foreground elements obstructed my view of the battle, being totally unable to rotate the camera - nor manipulate the zoom level, which varies between too-far-out and too-close-up depending on whether you're fighting or not - is a puzzling omission.

So in the end, I'm still waiting for answers from The Wonderful 101. At least I won't have much longer to wait.

It took me a little while to reason out what was so disappointing about the Civilization Online reveal. Clearly it's a very different beast from an actual Civ game, but that's fine; spinoffs happen all the time. And the grand, ambitious concepts they discuss - shepherding an entire civilization from its ancient roots to the modern era, while personally playing a part in its exploration, settlement, technological development, and warfare - are pretty impressive, albeit suspiciously vague and possibly unfeasible.

But what makes Civilization Online seem altogether less appealing than a full-fledged Civilization, is that I'm not in charge. When I lead a civ to technological or cultural revolution, or to diplomatic or bloody victory, none of it happens by virtue of other players, or intelligent agents within my civilization. It's all on me! The leader. The idea of becoming a leader in Civ Online is appealing, but by its nature as an MMO, most players won't be able to accomplish this. The role they'll be filling instead - being a grunt in another leader's army - doesn't sound very fun.

All the same, I'm curious to find out more about the game, if only because I doubt they'll be able to pull off all the features they've described.

When I'm actually playing Darksiders II, it feels pretty good: the controls are tight, and the world (at least, the parts with things in them) is fun to roam around in. The problem is that, when I'm not playing it - which is almost all the time - I feel almost no compulsion to return.

The game's hooks seem weak. I don't care about the story. The dungeons (thus far) aren't exciting, ditto for the world map. Combat feels repetitive. And the equipment system is kind of shallow. Really, when I think about it, what's most appealing about Darksiders II is its presentation: gorgeous graphics, superb art, and an incredibly moody soundtrack. I like "being" in the game's world, but not really any of the things I'm doing in it.

While it's unquestionable that Death's adventure is a mechanical and technical improvement over his brother's, I've yet to encounter an item, dungeon puzzle, or narrative element that really wows me. I'll try to find one, at least for a little while longer.

Progress: Somewhere in "The Drenchfort" (really?).

All too often, I find that a game I enjoy in multiplayer/party settings becomes a tired chore when approached solo. Not so for Mercenary Kings. Going alone, the game transforms from a chaotic free-for-all into a Rambo-esque power fantasy, wherein I wipe out entire installations of bad dudes (and bad robots) with increasingly-ludicrous weaponry.

My newest construction is a submachine gun that shoots homing missiles.

Even with recycled environments and enemies, the game manages to keep up the illusion of variety: every return trip to a level sees a new section unlocked, a new objective to find, or a new boss to fight. Most missions are rapid and tightly paced, expertly encouraging "just one more" run. And there's always, always more crafting loot to collect.

Like a 2D Skyrim, Mercenary Kings' technical shortcomings feel like they don't even matter. This game is damn fun.

Progress: Captain rank.

I was astonished - in a good way! - to discover that Jupiter was still churning out Picross games. None of that wacky cube shit, either -- real, hard-core Picross, now as downloadable chunks of puzzley goodness from the eShop. (I only happened to notice that the sequel to this game, Picross e2, was just released. So there's even more where this came from.)

More Picross! That's cool. Unfortunately I've just run into what may be the achilles heel of this version: I'm up to 15x15 puzzle grids, and there's still no 'zoom' feature. The grid squares are getting pretty damn small, and it's genuinely tough to hit them without accidentally hitting something else.

According to the Nintendo description, 15x15 is as big as the puzzles get, which at least means that this problem won't worsen. But it also suggests a fairly low difficult ceiling. Picross DS got up to 25x20. Come on guys -- just because it's a small game, doesn't mean it needs small puzzles.

The puzzles I've done so far are barely scratching the surface of difficulty; I think the longest one I've done so far was about three minutes. I can only assume that the remaining ... 100 or so puzzles will ramp the challenge considerably upward.

Progress: Finished Easy Mode, 32 Normal puzzles.

Clash in the Clouds? Whatever, man. I could continue not-caring about that with both hands tied behind my back. The real DLC, though; this is very much in line with my particular interests. The Season Pass feels like a much less idiotic purchase, now.

In Gunpoint's opening moments, the game shows off its true intents as plainly as possible: a fall through a plate glass ceiling, an irreverent phone conversation, and cold-blooded murder, capped off by another slapstick fall. There are mature concepts in here, from political intrigue and corporate scandals to absolutely merciless violence. But it would be a mistake to take Gunpoint seriously -- not because you can't, but because it's so, so much more fun when you don't.

The game's story is divided up into sequential missions (although you do occasionally have a choice of missions, you'll have to do them all eventually). Each mission gives you an upgrade point - useful for improving your electric pants, which allow you to vault over and into highrises, and to pounce on unsuspecting foes - and some cash, to spend on new special abilities. Early missions hold your hand through the game's processes, showing you how to infiltrate secure areas, how to dispatch guards, and how to manipulate a building's electrical wiring. This last part is where the game really shines: multiple isolated circuits, elevator call-buttons, motion and sound sensors, trap doors, and a multitude of other components, make for an incredible variety of ways you can hack your way through a building. Later missions will really test your mastery of this ability, and how well you can plot a step-by-step route through multiple floors of armed guards.

On the flip side, though you can get in-game accolades for doing everything "right," there's nothing stopping you from playing however you want. You can try to rush through a level as quickly as possible, evading guards rather than disabling them; or you can systematically hunt down and kill the guards, just because. Almost every level's design is completely open to experimentation, and there are a ton of tools to use however you wish. Protip: link a light switch to an open door, wait for a guard to walk through the doorway, then flip the switch to close it and knock the guard out cold. Gunpoint is chock-full of fun little activities like this.

As for complaints: the story gets hard to follow in its second act, and the ending is a bit anti-climactic (though it could be argued that this just fits the game's noir stylings). The character upgrades never quite feel right, with half of them being forced upon you, and the other half barely useful at all. And visually, Gunpoint only really meets the bare minimum of functionally displaying its mechanics. But its flashes of amateurism can't hide what is, underneath, a brilliantly clever and excessively fun game. It takes the things we love as gamers - side-scrolling exploration, convoluted puzzle-solving, and bare-knuckle action - and puts them all together in a pleasantly unique package.

Better than: Stealth Bastard Deluxe (granted, I haven't finished that game just yet)
Not as good as: Mark of the Ninja
This could totally be franchised: with some high-fidelity graphics and more judicious story editing.

Progress: Finished two playthroughs, 100%

Oh, I like creative games alright. But I just don't ... get Starseed Pilgrim. I mean, I pretty much understand how the game is played (thanks to about fifteen minutes of flailing around, and some internet research). But other than that mystery - that is, once you've figured out Starseed Pilgrim's mechanics - I don't get why I should keep playing it. The game itself, with all its unguided randomness and repetition, doesn't give me any sense of fulfillment.

This is definitely one of those games that isn't "for" me.

Progress: Failed, don't care, gave up.

The biggest mistake The Bridge makes is making itself out to be some sort of Antichamber-esque, reality-defying puzzle-platformer. Its M. C. Escher-inspired aesthetics certainly suggest some brain-twisting puzzle mechanics. But in execution, it's actually much simpler -- in addition to walking left and right, you can rotate the world, clockwise and counter-clockwise, to alter the direction of gravity. You'll use this power to guide your way through some simple obstacles, and move others out of your way. And, there are some additional mechanics later on: color switching, which is cool but underutilized; and controlling an alternate plane of gravity, which again is rarely of importance.

And that's the other problem with The Bridge. Not only is the total puzzle count small, but the number of actually-challenging puzzles is even remarkably smaller. Short games are one thing, but this isn't as dense and solid as something in the vein of Braid or Limbo. It's just short.

The Bridge isn't bad, really. If you like puzzles, there are some in here. But it really underdelivers, both on content and on its alleged premise.

Better than: Luminesca
Not as good as: Closure, Braid, Antichamber
Really could have used: more than one music track.

On the one hand, Luminesca is explicitly early in development. Only two of a planned five chapters are currently available, and if you look at some early videos, you can see how dramatically the game design has changed already. On the other hand, even for having a presumed 40% of its content, there's very little here: each current chapter lasts only a few minutes, and there's barely a hint of challenge, or even intrigue, in either of them. The gameplay mechanics are extremely shallow -- you can move in two dimensions, and you can shine a light in an arbitrary direction, which occasionally activates an item. Sometimes you have to lead a glowing "planktid" toward a switch, guiding it through parts of the level. It's all remedial stuff.

What Luminesca has going for it, though, is its beautiful style - think a more pleasant, but still dark, version of Insanely Twisted Shadow Planet - and how generally relaxing it is. More so than Aquaria or even Ecco the Dolphin, Luminesca's soothing underwater atmosphere has no real trace of stress or strife. Again, this is arguably a bad thing in terms of the game's interactivity, but it makes for an agreeable lazy afternoon activity.

Better than: Dear Esther
Not as good as: Unmechanical
Of course: I'll still plan to revisit the game when it's more complete.

Progress: Finished Chapter 2.