I tried the demo back when it came out, and Unmechanical seemed like a nice little bit of sidescroller puzzling. The full game turns out to be a nice, little more of it. About one to two hours more. What I'm saying is, the game's short; but it's still nice.

If there's something in Unmechanical to complain about (well, other than its brevity) it's the game's pacing, which falters a few times. The first two-thirds or so, your goal is finding keys to unlock a central, quasi-hub chamber, which you'll backtrack to (well, be guided back to) after collecting each key. So it feels a bit awkward when there's a considerable amount of puzzle content after this chamber. And there are a couple of times where, to solve a puzzle, you'll have to go back to the previous room - or skip ahead to the next room - to pick something up.

But these seem like minor complaints, when the game in general is a pleasant, stimulating-while-relaxing trip through an imaginative, well-detailed game world. There's a great variety of puzzle types, all manipulated by a single control mechanic -- and only one or two of them require real-time action, so you can take as much time as you want.

Unmechanical isn't very complicated, but it doesn't need to be.

Better than: Quantum Conundrum
Not as good as: Antichamber
About as good as, while distinct from: Q.U.B.E. -- weird, no, it was not my intent to compare Unmechanical solely to other Unreal/UDK games.

Progress: Complete.

In Professor Layton and the Curious Village, I was disappointed that the puzzles were so far divorced from the narrative, and that they tended to be of the "placemat puzzle" variety. Puzzle Agent's puzzles are designed to more closely integrate with the game's story, but... they have other issues.

Can you help Agent Nelson Tethers decrypt this encoded number?

Of the - admittedly, few - puzzles I've done so far, most have been criminally stupid, like this. The remainder take the form of logic puzzles, and are more difficult only because they rely on a number of unstated assumptions -- like that a tournament is single-elimination format, or that a "midnight to midnight" security service means there's no replacement security after midnight.

The story itself hasn't done much of anything to keep me interested, either: it's clearly inspired by Fargo, resting heavily on the theme of an isolated, snowed-in Minnesota town and its terse, hermitish inhabitants. But the action moves excruciatingly slowly, and foreshadows its leads with the subtlety of a dump truck.

Oh, and just to continue kicking Puzzle Agent while it's down: the production values are dirt-poor. Animations are missing frames, and zoomed-in art shows lots of artifacting. The whole thing plays out like a cartoon-pitch storyboard. Although the voice acting is pretty good, which is a bit weird, everything else considered.

Progress: Solved 7 puzzles.

No Time to Explain perfectly sums itself up in its introduction: time travel, sci-fi weapons, egregious crab-violence, and OH CHRIST MY RIBS ARE IN MY EYES!!

The game's strong suit is its flippant approach to storytelling, be it in the opening levels' screaming guy, or the zany, cartoonish cinematics that follow. It also has some pretty damn cool play mechanics, largely revolving around unique means of locomotion -- starting with a beam gun that propels you into the air. Its slightly-masochistic levels will give you a workout as you learn to master those mechanics, while being friendly enough to provide convenient checkpointing, so you rarely have to hurdle the same obstacle twice.

Unfortunately, the hilarious story and clever mechanics are let down by some shoddy technology and a general lack of polish. Misshapen hitboxes, getting stuck in the terrain, and weapon misfires are all present in fair quantities. Even once you get the hang of beam-gun jumping, controlling it effectively can be immensely difficult, due to the way the viewport and targeting reticle move (or don't) together. If you go backwards from a level checkpoint, you can actually lose progress. And while the game is usually generous with retries, there are some exceptions in a couple of boss fights - forcing you to start over if you die - that really break the game's flow.

As far as death-happy platformers go, No Time to Explain is the funniest, and one of the most creative I've seen, with a great visual style and soundtrack to boot. But it's also one of the least polished, outside of Flash prototypes. Luckily, if you're like me and gave up at the flammable stomach acid - or if you're just balking at the $10 price tag (which does seem a little steep) - you can watch the whole thing online, and still enjoy the game's incredible, epic conclusion.

Better than: Super Meat Boy, at least where it matters to me
Not as good as: VVVVVV
Oh and: there are collectible hats!

Progress: Failed the stomach/diabetes level.

Dynamite Jack plays a lot like a late '90s shareware game. Each level is basically atomic, with your equipment reset every time; mechanics like bombs and line-of-sight enemies are extremely simple; levels can be very short, like seconds long; and the production values, from the art detail to the sound quality, are pretty low. Not to knock the formula: it works, and the gameplay is solid, for how basic it is. And there are plenty of unlockable achievements for each level, so if you're into it, it seems like the game will last you a while.

This may be a revelation for mobile gaming - sincerely, this is more fun and polished than most phone games I've seen - but on a PC, in an ecosystem that's since evolved way beyond this style of game, it's just too simple and antiquated.

Progress: Finished "Walls" (level 5).

To its credit, Proteus has some pretty cool world-building technology: procedurally assembling a low-res game world with wildlife and weather effects.

On the other hand, Minecraft: Java Edition also does all of this, in addition to having a game in that world. Proteus has no such game. The most you can do is watch said wildlife and weather take place in the world, as in-game time passes by.

To judge Proteus as "good" or "bad" incorrectly presumes that there is some content to pass judgment on. (Which won't stop me from giving it a terrible rating.) There's nothing in Proteus. It's an environment engine; a single component of a theoretical game. Without any other components, it's just pointless.

Better than: ...
Not as good as: Dear Esther, going outside.
I guess there is an "ending": but I didn't walk around enough to trigger it.

Progress: is there such a thing?

Basically, Trine 2 is more of the same Trine from before. On the surface, there are some changes that appear drastic - like a fluid physics engine, and a revamped skill system - but these boil down to relatively small differences in the gameplay itself. For better or worse, Trine 2 is another magical romp through a fantasy setting, which can be approached as a single-player puzzle or as a semi-hectic party experience -- and it looks exceptionally good.

Unfortunately, like its predecessor, Trine 2 can feel samey and dull in solo play. Stages just seem to take longer than they should. At the same time, there are a number of places where experience orbs are too far out of reach, requiring multiple players or - self-defeatingly - more ability upgrades; so maybe the game is trying to tell me not to worry about them as much as I am.

Progress: Reached the Petrified Tree.

I really, really, really like most of the core gameplay mechanics in FTL: exploring space, encountering Star Trek scenarios, fighting enemy ships (with ship system micromanagement!), and upgrading your vessel. All of this stuff is firmly within my interests. But I extremely, intensely dislike FTL's roguelike aspects. The game wants to kill you, all the time, in as many ways as possible -- running out of fuel, running out of missiles, running out of crew members, and being blind-sided by surprisingly powerful foes. And when you die, it's over: your ship is gone for good. So much for investigating that ancient alien lifeform you resurrected.

Even on Easy mode, the game doesn't hesitate to throw piles of noxious shit at you with no warning. I got pretty close to the end in my last play session; then I encountered a cloaked ship, meaning I couldn't even target it as my own ship was swiftly perforated.

If FTL wasn't made in the roguelike model, I would be absolutely in love with it. But it doesn't seem to want me to enjoy it. So ... meh. Have it your way, FTL.

Progress: Unlocked the Engi Cruiser.

Offspring Fling keeps changing up its obstacles and puzzle strategies, all the way to the end -- with challenges that range from taking your time to decode a level's obstacles, to executing perfect sequences and (less frequently) badass aerial maneuvers in real-time. These 100 stages are short, and rarely super-difficult, but sport a really impressive variety of puzzle concepts. Of course, the real challenge is getting gold and rainbow flowers, by beating expert and developer times, respectively. I'm plenty satisfied just finishing the puzzles though.

Well... evidently, some bonus levels unlock when you beat those special times. But that's fine. I'm good with the 100 levels.

Better than: 1000 Amps
Not as good as: VVVVVV
Oh yeah: this was from the guy who made Depict1 also. I'll get back to Snapshot, one of these days.

Progress: 100 levels complete, 18 gold flowers, 1 rainbow flower -- 33.1%.

Offspring Fling is a satisfying mix of new and old platform-puzzle sensibilities, not unlike the earlier Mario vs. Donkey Kong iterations. You play as a mother creature, a fluffy, friendly-looking thing who's just had her children abducted by some sort of forest-dinosaur. You'll proceed to rescue your (surprisingly plentiful) offspring through 100 levels, where you must get both yourself and your kin to the level exit. The puzzle mechanics come in as you try to manage the little guys: when you pick them up, you can't jump as high, or fit through short passages, so you'll have to place and throw (the titular 'fling') them around to get everyone where they need to be. Later levels introduce switches, destructible terrain, deflection blocks - turning your offspring into a Zelda-style mirror puzzle - and enemies.

Although the game's art style and sountrack foster a cutesy, cuddly sense, tossing baby creatures into walls, over hazardous pits, and at deadly foes (to stun them!) stands in hilarious juxtaposition to the theme. Despite the offsprings' vulnerability, when thrown, they become basically indestructible; and using them to hit buttons is vital to unlocking the exit. Sometimes, it feels less like you're saving them, and more like they're saving you.

The puzzle design is pretty great too, if somewhat inconsistent. Many levels, maybe as much as half of them, are intentionally simple -- to introduce some new mechanic or trick, such as a switch variety, or catching offspring mid-air. But other levels combine these concepts into genuine challenges, which can take many tries to complete. Thankfully, even the tough levels aren't terribly complicated - just difficult to figure out - so retries aren't generally repetitive.

My only real gripe with Offspring Fling is that the music can get a bit grating. Well, that and I seem to be missing a ton of gold flowers (for completing a level within a certain time) by less than two seconds. Sometimes I hate when game designers are actually good at playing their own games.

Progress: 51 levels complete, 6 gold flowers.

McPixel is completely, utterly, and irredeemably stupid. It's just dumb. McPixel is the worst parts of old-school point-and-click adventure games - pixel hunting, and backwards-ass illogical puzzles - peppered with Looney Tunes-caliber slapstick humor, and wrapped in a 20-second time limit. Theoretically the game's lack of sensible structure might be justified by its comedic value, but it isn't creative enough for this crutch, either: once you've seen one dynamite-pratfall or crotch-kick, you've seen them all.

That it was the first game greenlit by the Steam community, should be a source of shame to us all.

Progress: Finished Chapter 1.