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Transistor definitely succeeds at mixing Supergiant's colorful style with a techno-mystical TRON motif. And its blend of real-time and turn-based combat mechanics, though jarring at first, feels unique and exciting.
Unfortunately the narrative takes a hit from ... the narrator: while his character is better-integrated with the game than in Bastion, he talks so much - and there are so few other voice actors - that eventually the exposition sounds samey and repetitive.
And the gameplay is let down by an intimidating volume of progression options: being able to use every Function as an ability or an ability upgrade or a passive upgrade is a "cool idea," but the resulting matrix of choices is overwhelming, and wasteful. (After finding a setup that worked for me, I wasn't compelled to experiment any more.)
And -- both the story and the mechanics are limited by Transistor's short running length: 3-4 hours of content leaves a lot of unexplained backstory, and doesn't give that spread of Function options much room to breathe.
I guess the game might be expecting me to "recurse" and run it again - adding Limiters for extra challenge - but that's really not my thing.
I enjoyed my (brief) time with Transistor, to be clear; it just doesn't feel like it lives up to the potential of its ideas. And in retrospect, seems less like a setup for a TRON-like epic than it does a proof-of-concept for Hades.
It tries to be a Dark Souls, for one thing: meditation circles (bonfires) are where you heal, respawn, and allocate skill points; you can heal inbetween these with a limited-but-rechargeable store of stim canisters (estus flasks); your special abilities use a slowly-recharging Force meter (stamina), and most enemies have a stamina/guard meter to deplete before you can deal HP damage.
It even has surprise ambush bullshit like Dark Souls, enemies hiding behind corners (or burrowed underground) which you'd have absolutely no way of anticipating before they hit you in the back. Between that, and the meditation circles being placed very inconsistently - sometimes they're separated by less than a minute, sometimes by half an hour - Fallen Order certainly channels the aggravating and inconvenient parts of a Souls game.
Does it measure up to the "good" aspects of Souls games? Well, I don't like Souls games, so honestly I don't know what the "good" aspects are -- but Fallen Order has no customizable classes or character stats, and no collectible loot, so something certainly seems missing.
But wait, there's more: Fallen Order is also trying to be a Metroid, maybe more specifically a Metroid Prime. It has labyrinthine, interconnected world maps, and routes that are blocked until you find the ability that can un-block them. Each map area feels like a distinct environment with its own local wildlife, and its own mysterious history.
(Even the dead-and-gone Force-sensitive race of Zeffo sometimes seems like a re-brand of Metroid's Chozo.)
The problem is... Fallen Order's world isn't interconnected enough to meet the critical Metroid bar of spontaneous, undirected exploration. Each of Fallen Order's maps is a "planet," and you can only get from one to another using the Mantis ship, which is at a fixed location on each map. That is to say, this is no Dracula's castle; it's just a half-dozen branches off of a central hub (the ship).
So finding a secret off-map route never leads to jaw-dropping results like glimpsing a totally different part of the game -- just a shortcut in the current area. Deeply exploring a planet's map is discouraged by way of, well, when you're done you still need to walk all the way back to the ship. And while there are a couple of times the game "lets" you go to a planet earlier than its story sequence, you'll be unable to do much there until you've unlocked more abilities.
Those ability unlocks are mostly Force powers like slow, push, and pull. Cal Kestis was a padawan who learned these Force powers as a child, and then ... forgot them? suppressed them? as he survived Order 66, but is able to remember them through flashback sequences. To put this another way: sections of the game are unreachable until Cal remembers his training. This somehow feels worse than that time Samus had to wait for permission to unlock her suit powers.
These powers are useful in combat, too, although ... this is an aspect of Fallen Order that I wish was more blatantly influenced by other games. Force-pushing enemies off cliffs is a thrill; and parrying blaster fire back at Stormtroopers is super-satisfying. But when it comes to close-quarters lightsabering, the game's core mechanics of block, parry, evade, and strike get over-stressed in most encounters -- especially against multiple enemies.
The visual language of enemy attacks isn't very consistent: a red glow means "parry won't work" but then what? Sometimes you need to dodge, sometimes you need to run, sometimes you need to strike back and interrupt! When an enemy is blocking your attacks, does that mean they need to be stunned, or that you should just keep attacking until they're exhausted? Each enemy's patterns are a bit different, and the only way to learn them is by failing a few times.
(That's where I wish Fallen Order had cribbed more from, say, Batman in how enemies telegraph themselves.)
But even when you know what to do, the combat engine won't always allow it, for reasons that I still don't fully understand. I was almost never able to parry two Scout Troopers when they came at me together, and dodge-rolling to disengage from melee was really a crapshoot.
At least on Jedi Knight (normal) difficulty, the combat is rarely "hard," in the sense that you'll probably have enough health and stim-packs to survive anyway. But I had a lot more fun when I turned the difficulty down to Story mode, just to reduce the impact of all those frustrations. (Like the fact that enemies can interrupt your stim pack. Really, game?)
Okay, there's one more feature-set of Fallen Order to cover: the Uncharted parts! Yes, Cal also clambers up vines and sprints across walls and shimmies over cliff-faces and swings through chasms like a parkour adventurer. He's ... not that great at it, though.
What I mean is, the game's collision detection and the level design's precision requirements are not in line with each other. I fell to many, many deaths at the end of a wall-run because I didn't hit the wall at the right height; or on a rope-jump because I wasn't swinging far enough (or was swinging too far!); or on a slide because I wasn't turning at exactly the right angle. This is some Super Mario 64 flashback shit, and not in a good way.
Of all the different things that Fallen Order tried to do, I think this is where it came closest to greatness: Uncharted Star Wars, traipsing through exotic environments while hopping across the galaxy on a hunt for ancient treasure. Throw in some Nate-and-Sully-esque banter, and that formula could really work.
Oh yeah, I didn't mention Fallen Order's characters or story -- there's a reason for that. Though it ends on a high note (where Darth Vader chases you through a fucking undersea fortress), the game's story overall is 30 minutes of interesting content in a 12 hour bag.
The core problem is that its characters just have no personality: I never cared about Cere, or Greez, or even Cal, because they so rarely displayed any compelling motivation or passion. (Honestly, BD-1 - who is a robot - showed more charisma than the lot of them.)
But a sequel could inject some personality into them, and if it focuses up on polishing a smaller feature-set - instead of doing a mediocre job of imitating four different genres - I could absolutely see Respawn delivering a Jedi iteration that's truly exciting from start to finish.
I actually didn't expect they'd get the chance to try, until a trailer appeared yesterday. We'll just have to see if Survivor has the wisdom to focus its powers.
Black Flag has long been "the good Assassin's Creed game*" as well as "the good pirates game" in my memory, so when Our Flag Means Death reignited my child-like (or Stede Bonnet-like, if you prefer) fascination with the pirate life, it only felt natural to dive back into Edward Kenway's misadventure.
(*) Did you know?: Ubisoft has continued to make even more Assassin's Creed games! And, believe it or not, the modern-era Abstergo plot is still part of them. Wow!
The question is: has Assassin's Creed IV aged well? And the answer is, well, kinda.
In terms of technology -- yes, surprisingly, AC4's engine and features feel competitive with modern open-world games. The graphical fidelity of the open sea is pretty phenomenal, dynamic navmesh during ship-to-ship combat is still an impressive feat, and while there are frequent annoyances with clambering (Edward climbs the wrong thing) or melee combat (Edward attacks the wrong guy) ... it's not that much worse than recent titles like Red Dead, Tsushima, and Horizon.
Anyway. The in-game tech holds up, and while the story is garbage, it was just as much garbage "in its time." Checking my notes: Edward is shallow, Assassins are silly, the Juno cult... whatever. At least the narrative isn't a let-down, because I already knew it was dumb.
The part of Black Flag that's aged the most is its mission design: there just aren't that many good ideas in here. Sneaking between cover to infiltrate an enemy camp? Dodging cannon-fire and unleashing broadsides on a man-o-war? These templates work great. Others, like chasing a runner, slowly tailing a mark, boat stealth, or flat-out brawling; these missions just aren't very well-crafted.
In retrospect, that's probably why I got so into the side-activities in Black Flag my first time through; because they're "the good part."
But this time around, I left most of the collectibles and upgrade-treadmill alone because - even 6-7 years after Rogue - I am still burnt out on the Ubisoft game grind. I was plenty satisfied with the amount of yo-ho-ho-ing I'd had by the end of Black Flag's campaign.
Black Flag doesn't need a remaster -- it needs a true successor, an open-world privateer simulator but also compelling characters and exciting story missions. In the meantime, though, it's still "the good pirates game" to beat.
Better than: Red Dead Redemption 2 Not as good as: Horizon Zero Dawn In retrospect, not better than: Ghost of Tsushima; while Black Flag's core gameplay loop is more fun, exploring this slice of the Caribbean isn't as rewarding as Tsushima.
That's the good part: it prioritizes a consistent art style, simple yet evocative environments, and fixed camera views that show off some finely-curated scenes.
And if you're wondering whether that camera direction gets in the way of the game: yeah! It does. Sometimes I wondered if the fixed-cameras decision was made late in production, because there were a few moments of foregrounds obscuring the action, or awkwardly running "into" the camera, that simply didn't work.
Hob similarly makes questionable choices in its user interface: like, it may sound cool to keep heads-up elements small and show more of the game field, but in practice, the UI just doesn't explain shit. Inventory and map icons are hard to decipher, and all too often, a button prompt omits vital information like whether you're supposed to "press" or "hold" said button.
It even goes so far as omitting objective markers sometimes, though I wonder if those might be bugs, because I'm not the only one (exhibit a, exhibit b) who just didn't fuckin' know what to do.
The low-detail design spirit carries over into Hob's narrative, which has no script, written or otherwise. A small cast of NPCs just grunts, and gestures in directions, to attempt to convey information. I still don't really know what was going on the whole time.
To that point: in the game's ending moments, you can make a choice to join - or fight - the final boss. But that choice isn't ... explained at all, said boss just waves hands and makes noises, and there aren't any input prompts for what you might do.
So I guess I joined the enemy and the game ended. Whatever.
In theory, Hob is a fascinating Zelda-like with minimal, straightforward mechanics; in practice, its minimalism is more hindrance than help.
Despite fumbling attempts to improve upon Zero Dawn, Horizon Forbidden West plays fabulously well to the same strengths as its predecessor: telling a thrilling story in a richly fascinating world full of exhilirating action.
Which makes it kinda awkward for me to review -- after all, I don't want to dwell on the bad parts of this overall amazing game. Like how an inventory system I previously called a "train-wreck" has been enhanced with automatic sending-to-stash, and that's great, but makes it even more unpleasant when you run out of arrow-crafting resources mid-battle (because your stockpile is still in that stash!).
Or how all its new activity types feel under-done: Machine Strike is bewilderingly counter-intuitive and disappointingly boils down to Who Has Bigger Numbers (it's no Gwent); Arena challenges are an awful lot like Hunter Trials but without the option to sneak, plus sometimes replacing your own hard-earned equipment with a challenge-specific loadout (demanding you learn unfamiliar weapons with a tight time limit!); and Mario Kart-esque Gauntlet races can be ruined by the same bullshit last-moment overtakes as real Mario Kart.
Or how the new melee combos are just impossible to time correctly- ah, there I go. No! No, I won't obsess over the minutiae of Forbidden West's whiffed shots at iteration, nor the stale bits of 2017 that are still here (like the tedium of hunting critters for pouch upgrades).
Because those rough spots are overshadowed by what the game does right, and they're the same engaging, powerful things that made Zero Dawn such a delight.
The story is unforgettable, filling in more of the Horizon mythos while adding plenty of fresh surprises of its own; both new and returning characters make this post-apocalypse feel enticing with excellent dialog and emotive animation.
The world is sprawling, filled with diverse environments and well-integrated events that make it fun to explore for its own sake; I don't have square footage numbers on me, but Forbidden West's map sure seems bigger and diverse-r than Zero Dawn's was.
(Forbidden West also includes a larger number of memorable destinations and landmarks, though none are as awe-inspiring as the ruins of Las Vegas, and Aloy's quest to restore its neon holographic lights -- seeing that for the first time was a real descending-to-Rapture moment.)
The combat is heart-poundingly exciting, even if sometimes it's too much; I mostly avoided the fucking fire wolves, but now there are some real asshole ice turtles. And setting aside a glut of weapon types and elemental ammo that feel unnecessary, dodging enemy attacks and targeting their weak points is still plenty satisfying.
So... what Zero Dawn excelled at, Forbidden West excels even more. And while it's a shame that this sequel didn't manage to improve on the original's low points, achieving the same highs makes it a decisive "win" nevertheless.
Like the first Cat Quest, Cat Quest II is, well, not exactly a genre-redefining masterpiece. (Unless that genre is cat puns.) It's a competent, adorable, and straightforward action RPG; with experience points and gold pieces, upgrade-able weapons and armor, and a whole lot of "go here" or "kill that" quests serving an unremarkable narrative.
A headline for this sequel is: co-op! Two players can do those quests, buy those upgrades, and bludgeon enemies to death together. The simple formula allows partners of any skill level to collaborate on this pun-filled adventure through the Felingard and Lupus kingdoms.
Sub-headline: you can still play solo, with an AI-controlled buddy, which works well enough.
Player ability - or AI ability - rarely factors into the experience. ... including late-game moments when it gets "hard," at least since a difficulty update that's made some later enemies and bosses very insta-death-ey. These encounters are more frustratingly stat-based than they are challenging or strategic: either you have enough HP and strength to out-survive the enemy, or, you don't.
So it's disappointing that some tedious level-grinding is required to get strong enough for the game's final caves.
Otherwise, Cat Quest II is a simple and fun button-mashy romp, and dressing up your kitten (and now, a puppy!) in little warrior outfits is just too damn cute.
Better than: Biped Not as good as: the first Cat Quest, in terms of difficulty pace. (If only that was co-op!) The ending implies there will be a Cat Quest III: and, hey, why not? I'm in for it.
Progress: Level 180, completed all dungeons and found all equipment.
Burn Me Twice is obviously inspired by Ace Attorney, its opening moments showing a judge, in a courtroom, who asks you to present evidence and witness testimony to prove a case.
But it throws this inspiration into a unique setup: witch trials! And ... you're the witch! but you're also an agent of the inquisition!? So your crime scene investigations get to use magic, and the game's narrative liberally blends the occult into mundane incidents like murder.
In that sense, Burn Me Twice is much more of its own game than a mere clone like Regeria Hope.
Unfortunately, it's also not very well-polished: evidence has to be presented in the "right" order, magic investigation hints tend to waste your time, and English dialog could use an additional localization pass.
I really like the idea, though. A larger budget and more rigorous design could do something really interesting with this.
Evoland 2 certainly learned one thing from its predecessor, at least in the amount I played: it's more focused on top-down Zelda-like mechanics, and remains mostly consistent with those mechanics as it jumps around to puzzle or stealth or other tangents.
But its sense of humor is still extremely shallow. Evoland 2's "parodies" don't, uh, evolve beyond simple references to other games: solving a placemat puzzle from Professor Layton, using a cardboard box to hide from guards, playing Castlevania music while fighting bats in a sewer.
It's not clever enough to be funny, and absent that angle, Evoland 2 is a bigger, longer, but still un-original and under-executed adventure game.
It's kinda like a better-made, but less-interesting, Undertale. Actually, yeah, that's exactly what this is.
Last time, I cautioned Evoland players to "just stop" when the game became tiresome; this time, I'll take my own advice.
Progress: Completed Genova's chores, still stuck in the past. (Hah!)
I'm less persistent than I was back in 2013 -- that's one reason why I'm not sticking with Stealth Bastard Inc 2. I've got less patience for SURPRISE DEATHTRAP! than I once did.
But regardless, I'm ... not sure if this sequel's improvements really "improve" upon Stealth Bastard Deluxe.
Its 2.5-d presentation makes it difficult to visually parse background flavor vs. foreground obstacles.
Its additional complexities - clones moving on their own, gadgets adding tactical twists - mesh poorly with time-sensitive SURPRISE DEATHTRAPS.
And its interconnected "hub" world is more of a fancy menu than a Metroidvania, since each test chamber exists completely separately from the map.
Also, it has cutscenes that try to tell a story, but they really, really don't work. I'm not sure that I even understand what the plot is, let alone what motivation I'm supposed to derive from it. Would've been better to just cold-open in a stealth testing facility with no exposition.
It Takes Two has a lot of ideas. Some of them work pretty well! Some of them don't. On average, though, it's fun enough to keep two people entertained for a surprising number of hours.
Through seven chapters, and a handful of levels in each, It Takes Two challenges you and a partner to platforming and puzzling and button-mashy combatting with a wide, continuous variety of mechanics. In a workshop-themed level, one player uses a nailgun to create wall-mounted poles for the other player's hammer to swing on. In a playroom level filled with toys, one player drives a dinosaur-shaped crane to move platforms that the other player jumps around on.
What's great about setups like these, or handcars and paddle-boats with two-person locomotion, or boss fights where one player distracts while the other prepares an attack, is that they're built on cooperation. At its best, the game asks two players to figure out how to help each other, trading assists back and forth on their way to a goal.
And unlike some other, more arcade-y co-op games, It Takes Two - usually - doesn't test the limits of your and your partner's synchronous coordination. The game is much more interested in you having a clear plan than it is in you having perfect timing.
Which is especially good because the movement and camera controls aren't consistent or reliable enough to really support "precision." Missing a target, or missing a jump, tends to feel like the game's fault at least as much as your own.
Fortunately some generous checkpoints help make those failures tolerable. In fact, part of its numerous mechanics' formula for success is that you don't need to develop deep skills in any of them -- because they don't stick around that long.
The low points of It Takes Two are when it's dwelling on an idea for too long, ramping up its complexity, and expecting you to pull off expert moves that ... the game just isn't polished enough to enable.
(The wasp boss is the worst. The worst.)
But It Takes Two generally moves fast enough, and changes itself up frequently enough, that this lack of polish doesn't get in the way. A continuous flow of imaginative environments and fresh gameplay prevents any one thing from wearing out its welcome.
(With a few exceptions. Like that wasp boss.)
Unfortunately this mostly-well-paced gameplay doesn't align with the storytelling, which is really, uh, bad. The premise hints at a meaningful, heavy plot: a squabbling couple's divorce and its emotional impact on their young child, who just wants her parents to be happy again. But as a magical, talking self-help book tries to re-ignite this couple's spark, well, the magical talking book isn't the hardest part to believe.
It's that these two adults going through a surreal cooperative adventure are so incredibly dense, so unrepentant when confronted by their own self-destructive patterns - not communicating with one another, neglecting their partner's needs, ignoring their daughter's emotional health! - that May and Cody rarely acknowledge the damage they've done to themselves, and never agree to change the behaviors that got them here.
I cannot stress this enough: do not attempt to divine relationship advice from It Takes Two. And if you play this with a child, make sure they understand that mature humans don't act the way that these characters do.
So, ignore the story -- enjoy that May and Cody make a good gameplay team, and ignore the terrible family team they make in "real life." And we won't talk about what happened to Cutie the stuffed elephant.
I don't know if I'd agree that It Takes Two is award-worthy, compared to more tightly-focused, technically-polished, or narratively-thrilling titles. But it's a fun ride filled with creative imagination, and by the - admittedly, kinda low - standards of couple-friendly co-op games, there isn't much else that tops it.
