Over the next few days, I’ll do my best to help weed through the fluff and highlight what I consider the most interesting titles nearing launch. Also, shout out to other creators/media such as lookingfor.game that help me in the same way.

REPLACED is a game colored by a studio that has been tested in unimaginable ways. The Ukrainian team was literally thrust into the middle of a war during development. As time since the game’s announcement went on, the growing expectations loomed as an insurmountable bar to clear. At times, it seemed like we would never actually see the game cross the finish line, and if we did, it would be impossible to live up to the hype the title had gathered over the years. So now that everything has come to a head, what is the result of Sad Cat Studios’ determination to see this game through?

A brilliant and beautiful game whose tumultuous development cycle appears as gameplay bruises on an otherwise masterful execution of indie game design.

REPLACED is an incredibly novel story, with a surprisingly fleshed-out world, multi-dimensional characters, and twists and turns that don’t feel particularly predictable or nonsensical. Conversely, during my several hours with the title, the gameplay never felt quite right. The movement, the combat, the platforming, and the puzzles all felt as if they were one step away from where they needed to be. These two wolves within the game were constantly battling, leaving me overall more conflicted and down on the game than I wanted to be on something that has the foundation needed to be in the upper echelon of modern indies.

The idea behind REPLACED is that you play as a futuristic AI that, due to some unforeseen circumstances at the start of the game, gets inserted into a human body. The AI, whose name is Reach, sets out with the goal of returning its host body to its previous owner.

On its own, the premise is interesting, but the game really stretches its legs when delving into the surrounding circumstances casting a shadow over your adventure. You live in an alternate-history U.S. where the government has fallen apart after a disastrous and dangerous event in the past, and a non-profit group has swept in to pick up (read: profit on) the pieces. The story takes place as the country has evolved into two fractured halves, consisting of the protected and the scavengers, with the scavenger side being fractured even further into multiple subgroups that all have different approaches to tackling this new world they’ve found themselves in.

REPLACED goes deeper than most games when it comes to conveying the nuances of its story. It’s easy to set up a generic villain and have us pursue them because we are comically good and they are comically evil. This is not that. From the very beginning, REPLACED grapples with the ideas of ethicality versus rationality, evil and destruction for the sake of the greater good, and what it means to rule and prosper over a pile of ashes. Up until the credits roll, we are constantly seeing vignettes of both the smaller and bigger picture of it all. We see people whose only concern in this world are their loved ones, soldiers grappling with what it means to be happy when everything is terrible, and how small moments in a person’s life can lead them to make irrational decisions that have unbelievable echoes throughout society.

There were many alternate versions of this story that could have been corny or generic-feeling, but REPLACED conveyed a world that was deep and intriguing to learn about from start to finish. Seeing events unfold through the eyes of Reach, who has never truly known the human experience, while simultaneously hearing the trials and tribulations from those around him that have been living this nightmare for years at this point, was a fantastic juxtaposition. And although the game was around 10 hours long, it was plenty of time to empathize with and understand the few core characters introduced to us throughout the ten chapters, leaving me desperately wanting to revisit this world again sometime in the future.

Of course, a big part of how you perceive the story depends on how it’s delivered to you, and REPLACED clearly takes its visual, and overall cinematic, direction very seriously. It’s a big reason so many people got invested in the first place. The colors, the lighting, the camera movements, the animations, and so many other elements come together to really make you believe you’re embedded within a cinematic work of art. Little touches like the camera shifting focus as a bolt whizzes past your head into the foreground, or even the tactile sound and animation of the Walkman-like device you use to read notes and communicate, all showcase an attention to detail hell-bent on immersing you in the moment.

Unfortunately, that immersion is often broken by a collection of minor annoyances peppered throughout almost every aspect of the gameplay. This is not to say that anything is particularly broken or unplayable, but REPLACED might be the first game I’ve played where pretty much every gameplay mechanic was one step away from being great.

When the game was first revealed, everyone worried that the combat wasn’t going to deliver, and to be honest, that might be the one aspect I have the fewest issues with. Everything is built around a simple melee, counter, and dodge system very similar to the Batman Arkham games. As things progress, you unlock additional tools to help control the crowds of enemies that get progressively larger and harder to deal with. This is completely serviceable, but there is a feeling of sluggishness that really starts to become apparent near the end of the game. As you start to have six enemies on screen, two shooting you from both sides, one rushing you, and so on, the ability to seamlessly switch between targets in a 2D space begins to break down. It’s often tough to focus on the right enemy as they move back and forth, shifting which character has priority for your attack. Luckily, the combat scenarios never get too overwhelmingly difficult, but regardless, it does get frustrating taking damage due to what feels like slow reflexes from your character or attacks landing on an unintended target.

Of course, losing the occasional fight here and there wouldn’t be so bad if I were really enjoying the gameplay. Sadly, oftentimes it just never clicked. Sometimes the checkpoints would set me back 3–4 minutes before the sequence I actually lost at. Many times, replaying content meant enduring Reach’s incredibly slow movement speed and timing-based platforming that frequently felt imprecise or awkward.

Individually, these issues are barely a footnote, but over time these minor complaints will snowball, leaving you with this Rube-Goldberg-style amalgamation of issues. More than once it turned a few gameplay sections sour as it felt like every couple of minutes, the amount of collective friction from the gameplay would completely break my immersion and investment in what was happening on screen. And the saddest part is, I genuinely think a lot of the issues I had were not due to poor gameplay decisions, but more so due to a lack of polish. I am dumbfounded that I am somehow left wondering what this game, of all games, could have been with a little more time.

Meanwhile, it often seemed like the best mechanics were the ones seldom revisited. There are about three genuine boss fights in the game, and while none were particularly tricky or groundbreaking, they seemed like a great way to cap off a chapter. Instead of leaning into the boss concept more heavily, we end up with chapter finales (including the very last one) that are just a few more waves of enemies than normal. The second half of the game introduces a few genuinely interesting puzzle mechanics, but the variety and frequency of them make puzzle solving come across as an afterthought rather than an inspired choice. And while most of these moments ended up being glorified fetch quests, the side missions actually felt like they added a lot of color to the world through environmental storytelling. I honestly would have loved one or two more of those instead of the retro arcade machine games that seemed like they required a non-trivial amount of effort to put together.

These are the two wolves laid bare. You have a story that is fleshed out, fast-paced, and cinematic, often brought to a halt by sluggish gameplay that only commits to the most basic of the wide array of mechanics it explores throughout its runtime. It’s as if you’re constantly being tapped on the shoulder, reminded that you’re playing a video game, when all you desperately want is to get lost in the story right in front of you.

I sit at a crossroads. REPLACED as a story, a world, and a visual spectacle raises the bar for indie games. I was invested from start to finish, and the directorial ambition of the game never ceased to amaze me. Meanwhile, REPLACED as a platformer and an action game doesn’t even meet the bar for modern indie games. Gameplay is slow, simple, clunky, and provides an average level of entertainment at best. So on one hand, if you’re a sci-fi story fan, this could be the best gaming story you’ve experienced in a long time, and on the other hand, if you’re more of a gameplay first player this could be and incredibly slow and somewhat repetitive experience that doesn’t quite ever really take off. Still, I find myself recommending it, because with its shorter runtime and reasonable price tag, I think it would be irresponsible of me to turn people away from what might be a select few’s favorite gaming adventure of the year.

I, like pretty much everyone else, was surprised to see the immense amount of early praise showered upon Beethoven & Dinosaur’s sophomore title, Mixtape, upon the first few days of its release. It opened at a mighty 94 on Opencritic, receiving several perfect scores from notable outlets like IGN, VGC, and Dualshockers among others. Based on early previews and trailers, the long-anticipated indie game was poised to make a big splash, but I doubt anyone expected it to sit as one of the highest-rated games of the last few years.

Maybe even more unexpected though, was the backlash that followed that initial wave of reviews. As more reviewers got their hands on the game, the range of opinions began to widen. With Mixtape being a more cinematic game that leans heavily into nostalgic skater, alt, and band culture from the 90s and earlier, it’s trying to speak to a very specific primary audience. While I believe that the story itself is still enjoyable despite not necessarily having nostalgia for the music or the teenage activities portrayed, many players cited a dissonance they couldn’t shake.

This resulted in debate about the merits of all of the suspiciously unanimous praise that accompanied the game’s release. How could all of these reviewers think this game was so perfect when the target audience is so narrow and the gameplay was as simple as it was? And thus, as is tradition in the big 2026, there was a vocal audience that formed that felt that they needed to work overtime to flip and discredit the narrative that this game had established in the early days of its release.

Luckily, I have somewhat detached myself from social media due to these very rage-inducing always online discussions, so I hadn’t even seen any discourse on the game until I had already rolled credits. And while this is not my review of the game (stay tuned), I can say that while I didn’t feel nostalgic or “seen” while playing, I did thoroughly enjoy the characters, writing, art style, and overall cohesion of the game. To me, this game excelled at areas that are almost fumbled in other games. So imagine my confusion when I saw this game get labeled as an astroturfed industry plant.

I hate that we even have to have this discussion, but okay I guess…let’s have it.

Mixtape is not an industry plant.

Let's get the low hanging fruit out of the way. Mixtape is a video game. People can complain about it being a walking simulator all they want (which I wouldn't necessarily call it, but let's play along), a walking simulator is still a video game. We just saw Dispatch, a game that is effectively an 8-episode season of an animated show with a few choose your own adventure elements and minor management sim aspects (non-derogatory), sell over 3 million copies. We all collectively recognize we're playing Dispatch for the story, and don't penalize it when we realize the game doesn't rip the gameplay from Spider-Man (2018) halfway through. Similarly, if you've been tapped in then you know that since it was first playable a year ago, Mixtape has always worn its gameplay on its sleeve: a story-first cinematic experience with different gameplay snippets littered throughout.

Next, let’s talk about the concept of what it means to be an industry plant. We’re talking about some shadow corporation funneling tens of millions of dollars into a so-called “indie” game, paying off journalists to give it artificially inflated review scores, all so that this game can seem like it appeals to the masses while also being free from traditional corporate baggage that would otherwise tank the game’s popularity if people found out about where the funding was coming from.

If you believe this, and I’m not sorry for saying this, you’re an idiot.

This is one of the dumbest conspiracies I’ve heard in a while. Industries don’t secretly fund projects within the video game industry. Do you know why? Because there’s no need for the industry to plant anything, people love corporate products.

This is not the music industry where people want to see something completely organic and original, this is the video game industry where the most expensive game to ever be developed is about to become the best selling game of all time within a mere few days. Hype and scale sells in this business. And it’s not like we haven’t seen it tried hundreds of times already. How many times do we see a brand new studio, led by some guys that worked on Call of Duty or some other best selling IP, get seeded with millions of dollars from who even knows where, only for them to make a legally distinct clone of the game they got popular from, go to every outlet known to man on a coordinated press tour, only for that game to underperform and cause the studio to shut down? It’s sad, but it’s a tale as old as time. You can’t just “plant” successes within this industry.

So sure, Mixtape had solid funding, it’s publisher saw promise and wanted it to succeed, it got some sort of deal with Xbox Game Pass, but these things are not new or surprising. So don't look at Beethoven and Dinosaur, a studio that originally put out a game that was essentially an acid trip on wheels about a David Bowie-adjacent, guitar-playing prodigy, and tell me these are the ideas that you think Big Video Game thought would be a great idea to plant within the masses and sell millions upon millions of copies. It's like saying the music industry planted Weird Al Yankovic to reproduce the success of Michael Jackson.

Like I said at the top, we were all surprised by how glowing the initial reviews were. You can argue that Mixtape is nostalgia bait and that influenced the higher reviews. Sure, but so what? Call of Duty is war bait. Resident Evil is camp horror bait. Vampire Survivors is numbers go up bait. Who cares? It’s not like these games are using some unknown or sacrilegious cheat code. You still need to make a good game. In my opinion Mixtape is a good game, and while some (terminally online weirdos) think that the only possible way to think this game was good is if you were paid or brainwashed, others understand it as a difference of taste and opinion.

Check Your “Well Actually” At the Door Please

Just to get it out of the way:

• I know PlayStation 5s are selling like hotcakes.

• I know Xbox has completely capitulated to PlayStation, leaving them the de facto victors of the long-raging console war (assuming we completely ignore Nintendo in this conversation like we always have).

• I know that PlayStation, as a brand, is stronger than ever, and Sony as a company is making insane profits off its gaming division.

I recognize all of that, but in this moment, none of it matters. I realize that context is often needed when we try to rationalize certain decisions in the industry, but I don’t play, follow, write, and talk about games so that I can get aroused by corporations’ earnings reports. I don’t play games because I know I’m contributing to overall units sold, or because it will inevitably help push an executive’s pay package up an extra couple million dollars.

I play games for emotional impact, for mental and physical challenges, for exciting new stories, for immersion, and for entertainment.

The Truth

What I’m about to say is not a hot take spurred by the recent news of Bluepoint’s closure. It’s not a statement fueled by console warring, tribalism, or any other nonsensical dumb argument you’re currently seeing on YouTube or Reddit. I say this as a fan who has noticed misstep after misstep over the last several years.

The PlayStation 5 generation has been an abject and colossal fumble by PlayStation. Notice I didn’t say failure, because that’s where heated readers will once again throw all of the points at the top back in my face. But creatively and strategically speaking, this tenure of PlayStation leadership seems completely lost. Here’s why.

The Golden Age

The Dark Times

The end of the PlayStation 3 generation marked one of the most flawless monetary and brand-centric turnarounds we’ve ever seen in this fairly young industry. The launch of the PlayStation 3 was a disaster. The console was more expensive, harder to develop for, and had to compete with a version of Xbox that simply could not lose. All of the biggest games in the world were associated with the Xbox brand, while almost every new attempt at an IP push on the PS3 was met with a comparatively niche fan base—or, in some cases, no audience whatsoever.

This was not for lack of trying. In fact, the team at PlayStation experimented with all manner of software and hardware. We had PlayStation Move, PlayStation Home, MAG, and LittleBigPlanet, just to name a few examples of how diverse the lineup of hardware and games was. Unfortunately, it almost didn’t matter. They had gotten off to such an embarrassing start that even when they did release something worthwhile, the install base just wasn’t there to receive it. No matter how many successes they could cook up, it didn’t seem to matter, because Xbox and the Xbox 360 had momentum that couldn’t be stopped—or so we thought.

Eventually, PlayStation decided to put all its chips on high-production, narrative-focused, single-player experiences. Titles like Uncharted 4 and The Last of Us were industry-defining releases that we’re still feeling today. These games changed how people perceived video games; they opened people’s eyes to the possibilities of storytelling through the medium, and thus started the golden age of PlayStation.

The Shift

Slowly, sentiment began to change. People started to look at PlayStation as a true competitor again, and as we neared the start of a new generation, there was a moment where everything changed forever.

Xbox, influenced by executives who wanted to penetrate every aspect of the living room, left their gaming audience as an afterthought, assuming the space was already won. Instead, they turned their attention to TV and movie media, positioning the next Xbox—the Xbox One—as an all-in-one device, as well as a cheap Wii clone for good measure. Not only that, but for their gaming audience, they didn’t come armed with exciting new games or features. Instead, they presented one of the most convoluted always-online digital frameworks you could imagine—still reigning today as one of the most baffling and idiotic launch decisions a major console manufacturer has ever made.

Already seeing success in their shift in strategy, PlayStation seized the opportunity. They went all in on the cinematic single-player experience. The hardware remained simple and sleek, there were no forceful pushes into the digital world, and the games were at the forefront. In mere hours, PlayStation had made a mockery of Xbox, and the tides of public sentiment shifted forever.

The Impossible

Next came a nearly impossible series of wins for the Japanese publisher. Their studios, both veteran and new, continued to produce hit after hit. We saw the birth of the Horizon franchise and Ghost of Tsushima, the rebranding of Kratos, the best use of a licensed IP we may have ever seen with Marvel’s Spider-Man, interesting new IPs like Bloodborne, and even inspiring remakes like Shadow of the Colossus.

And to be clear, this is just a fraction of the great things we saw during this generation. With the tables turned, third-party publishers flocked to the sacred symbols, tripping over themselves to sign exclusive deals. Monetarily and in terms of mindshare, PlayStation had a strategy that was completely dominant.

Which leads us into the current generation…

Riding Coattails

A Premium Experience

The PlayStation 5 launched with a tremendous lead, and Xbox was rapidly giving up even more ground. The complicated Xbox Series launch and promises of rebooted franchises proved insufficient to make a real difference. PlayStation positioned itself as a premium product and the obvious choice for gamers.

They emphasized the importance of the console being a generational shift that didn’t look back (even though their actual release strategy often contradicted that). They introduced a cool new hardware advancement with the DualSense, and most importantly, we were getting relatively quick turnarounds on the franchises that had put them in this position in the first place.

PlayStation had become the Apple of the gaming world, and it seemed like that dominant run would continue—until one pivotal moment.

The Infinite Money Glitch

At some point, the entire industry began paying attention to titles like Fortnite, Apex Legends, and Call of Duty: Warzone. Simultaneously, they noticed a new generation of kids spending more time on free-to-play mobile and PC games.

The companies that managed to carve out space here generated what seemed like limitless revenue. Microtransactions, skins, and loot boxes proved irresistible to players when done right—it was essentially like running a casino where the house always won. Especially when you had enough capital to give you an edge, it seemed almost foolish not to pursue it. And just like that, the seed was planted.

Money Sink

At the same time, PlayStation was suffering from a self-inflicted wound: they had manufactured a video-game arms race. What set their games apart was their premium quality—fidelity, motion capture, voice acting, and polish. This was what PlayStation said it meant to be a first-party title.

The branding shifted to resemble a movie studio. Every reveal was cinematic and jaw-dropping, and while these were incredible experiences for fans, they were also incredibly expensive to produce.

While every new first-party title broke sales records, it also broke budget records. These games were expensive not only because of their technical ambition, but also because PlayStation gave studios the time needed to create blockbuster experiences. Development cycles ballooned from three to four years to seven or eight. There was intense pressure to outdo what came before—better graphics, better stories, unrivaled gameplay. Admirable goals, but not cheap ones.

The Parasite

The solution? Let your proven studios cook. Give them time. Let them experiment. People expect greatness from them.

And for almost everyone else?

Live service.

In an investor meeting, PlayStation announced a pivot toward live-service games. This wasn’t an experiment—it was a bold, confident strategy they were willing to bankroll heavily. You have to spend money to make money, right?

The industry grew nervous. Live service had already doomed countless studios and publishers. But at least it would be supplemental, not primary…right? …Right??

The Primary Strategy

Nope. Live service became the strategy.

The single-player well that built PlayStation’s dominance had grown unsustainably large. The publisher could no longer reliably release premium titles at a steady cadence. Studios had scaled to a point where progress slowed to a crawl—yet costs kept climbing. Those long production cycles had to be sustained somehow.

So they turned to that infinite money glitch.

Immediately after that investor meeting, PlayStation announced an unprecedented number of live-service titles: Fairgame$, Marathon, Concord, and The Last of Us Factions. Overnight, the future shifted from almost exclusively single-player to overwhelmingly live service.

It was shocking—and terrifying—for fans who bought into PlayStation specifically for its single-player identity. Still, there was cautious optimism. Maybe live service under PlayStation’s umbrella could redefine the genre the same way its first-party games once did.

Time Told

And here we are.

Nothing went according to plan.

The live-service initiative has been a complete failure. At the time of writing, at least seven projects have been canceled before release. One was caught stealing an independent artist’s work and had to delay. One lost its studio lead and hasn’t been mentioned in over a year. One takes a PlayStation IP and makes it PC-exclusive. And one is Concord—which says enough on its own.

It’s almost comical how much has gone wrong.

The Last of Us Factions was announced to cautious optimism, only to be canceled. Naughty Dog cited the long-term maintenance burden as the reason. I’m sorry, but how do you spend years developing a live-service game before realizing it requires a long-term support plan? Shouldn’t that have been step one?

Then there’s Concord, canceled almost immediately after launch—despite having CGI shorts ready and even an entire Secret Level episode on Amazon Prime dedicated to a universe no one had time to care about.

Marathon followed: revealed to lukewarm reception, then delayed after an art plagiarism controversy.

On the other end is Fairgame$, revealed years ago and then completely forgotten. A new studio was formed to lead it, and the founder left before they had anything meaningful to show.

The Bluepoint of it All

Which brings us to today.

Bluepoint Games—the acclaimed remake studio Sony acquired just a few years ago—has been shuttered.

Why?

This was a studio that never missed. They were arguably the best in the business at remakes, and the list of games begging for that treatment was massive.

Reporting suggests that Bluepoint pivoted away from remakes to work on a God of War live-service project. That project was canceled in early 2025, and the studio failed to successfully pitch anything afterward.

Several things here are baffling:

• Why would you have the best remake studio in the industry working on a live-service game? Nothing about Bluepoint suggested they were positioned for that shift.

• Is it really true that there was nothing else for them to work on? The company that remade The Last of Us what feels like a dozen times couldn’t find any remake opportunities?

• Was this a one-strike-and-you’re-out situation? Was the situation so dire that the most dominant console publisher in the world cut loose an acquisition after just two projects? How?

The Externals

I’m not unreasonable. I do want to acknowledge that I realize PlayStation executives are not just sitting in their C-suite offices thinking up new and inventive ways to shoot themselves in the foot. The past several years have been both bizarre and unprecedented in many ways, and without a doubt, we can point to several key external factors that put PlayStation leadership in a position where they felt compelled to make the decisions they have.

The Pandemic

I’m pretty sure I don’t need to expound too much on how the pandemic hit the gaming industry. Development timelines slowed to a crawl, and games were delayed en masse. Simultaneously, with everyone stuck at home, player numbers soared higher than ever.

This resulted in a few things:

1. Almost every publisher’s operational pipeline was completely thrown into chaos. Games were delayed years beyond their intended release dates, companies had to rapidly build infrastructure for remote work, and hardware manufacturers were forced to adapt to shortages caused by global manufacturing and shipping disruptions. Whatever plans were in place ahead of the pandemic had to be entirely reworked—while also accounting for ballooning development costs on games they likely expected to have already shipped.

2. At the same time, demand for games was higher than ever, but the operational chaos made it nearly impossible to meet that demand. This, combined with the sudden shift to work-from-home, resulted in mass overhiring across the industry. That hiring spree was driven by the naive assumption that player engagement levels would remain flat—or even increase—once people were allowed to go back outside.

The Acquisition Arms Race

With the aforementioned surge in interest in gaming, the value of established studios skyrocketed, while interest rates sat at historic lows. In an effort to capitalize on what looked like a golden opportunity, Microsoft purchased Activision Blizzard and kicked off an industry arms race the likes of which we had never seen.

Fear of being left behind—or worse, leaving money on the table—led to mass consolidation across the industry.

PlayStation responded in turn by acquiring Housemarque, Bluepoint, Nixxes, Bungie, and Haven.

The Live Service Gold Rush

As I mentioned previously, a small handful of games began to monopolize the top spots on revenue and hours-played charts. Unsurprisingly, every single one of them was a live-service game.

With single-player games costing more than ever while offering diminishing financial returns, and live-service titles proving their ability to dominate industry earnings for well over a decade, it would almost be financially irresponsible not to pursue a live-service hit as a publicly traded company.

Not only that, but even one moderately successful live-service game could fund multiple single-player experiences over its lifetime. It’s the equivalent of hitting a jackpot at a casino.

The Government

On top of everything else, we recently saw even more instability introduced through U.S. tariffs. Prices rose across the board. It became more expensive to create and sell essentially everything—including video games and video game accessories.

As a result, both hardware and software prices increased to offset rising costs, making it more important than ever that new releases were financial successes.

A.I.

The most recent pain point for the industry has been A.I. Completely ignoring the debate around how generative A.I. threatens to pollute both our games and our planet, the sheer demand for A.I. computing has caused shortages in a wide range of computer components, including graphics cards and RAM.

Once again, this has upended operational pipelines for hardware manufacturers. Consoles and accessories are facing shortages, and the arrival of the next generation of hardware is at real risk of slipping by multiple years.

So yes—business is not normal. It’s almost the exact opposite of normal, and executives are being forced to adapt.

The problem is this: if every decision you’ve made to “adapt” results in more lost revenue than if you had literally done nothing at all… was it worth it?

An Abject Failure

I apologize for this long, ranty article, but as you can tell, I’m pissed.

PlayStation’s leadership isn’t stupid. They understand the prestige of their studios. They understand what kind of first-party experiences built their dominance. They know what their core fan base wants.

The problem is—they don’t care.

Much like the speeches Phil Spencer gives when Xbox shuts down studios, Herman Hulst’s statement on Bluepoint focused on success. Numbers are up. Profits are strong. That’s what matters.

There is still incredible creative talent within PlayStation’s studios—but the brand itself is becoming a soulless husk.

The company that won over gamers during the PS4 generation no longer exists. Now, we’re left hoping that projects designed to print money occasionally happen to align with what we want as players.

I don’t know how much worse things will get—but something tells me this is only the beginning.

When I first saw the trailer for The Eternal Life of Goldman, I was almost certain it was vaporware. It looked too good. It reminded me of one of those fan edits for one of your favorite IPs that you realize was just a 3-minute clip somebody spent 3 months making.

The animation reminded me of Cuphead, but with 3x the detail. There was incredible detail in the foreground and background, the animations were varied and stylized, and, maybe most importantly, every aspect of that trailer had such a strong sense of creativity.

I thought to myself, “This has to be fake,” because realistically, how could an indie studio scale this level of animation to a full-fledged game? Despite my extreme skepticism, I held out a small glimmer of hope that one day I would actually play this game and that it would live up to a fraction of what the trailer promised.

…then I played the most recent demo.

And let me tell you, this demo absolutely blew me away. So much so that I think it’s a legitimate Game of the Year contender.

The game is a 2D sidescrolling platformer following the adventures of a man named Goldman. The man is somewhat of a legendary figure. He travels with a versatile cane that can be customized as the situation calls. It can be used to jump to high places, hook and drag items, hold on to suspended handles, and seemingly much, much more.

In the demo, Goldman has been summoned to quell the flames of a circus event that’s gotten out of control. You are thrown directly into the chaos, dodging dynamic environmental hazards and fireball-spitting enemies. After defeating a relatively easy boss within the area, you realize that this was just the tip of what would become a long journey across the gorgeously designed map.

As I mentioned at the top, the animation was the thing that caught my attention, and after getting hands-on, it absolutely delivered. From the moment you press start, the game hits the ground running. You are treated to a visually overloaded scene of a monkey-like creature zipping through the jungle while holding onto some sort of bird. Within this opening statement, it’s clear how insane the game truly is. There are dozens of animated creatures, plants, and structures. Like, I feel like I would have to play each level multiple times to even be close to taking everything in. Not only that, but every movement Goldman makes is depicted with unique stylings and effects.

Once you’re able to break the spell that the opening sequence will undoubtedly lock you in, you can then turn to the gameplay. Bad platforming is the one thing that could kill any hype for the game. No matter how great it looks, if it doesn’t feel good to play, it doesn’t matter.

To my genuine surprise, it felt great. I’m typically a stickler for solid platforming mechanics, and this felt smooth and responsive. The enemies and platforming challenges felt fair, challenging, and thematically relevant to the rest of the level. Not only that, but the tutorialization of the first level felt perfect. It walked you through the unique cane customization method that acts as your toolkit for solving certain platforming challenges. All in all, the gameplay felt quite refreshing. It provided a decent challenge, but from what I could tell, it wasn’t Cuphead- or Soulslike-difficult, which was a nice change of pace, as it allowed me to appreciate everything unfolding around me.

Later on, you get to a non-hostile town. There, you get to see the real scope of the game. There are multiple named NPCs with relatively long dialogue segments ready for when you interact with them. In addition to the pretty well-written stories they all had, you also get hints that there are mechanics like cooking and house renting waiting for you in the full release. Additionally, you start to unravel the extent of the story, which clearly has multiple stages to it, with the potential to include side missions as well.

As your time with the demo wraps up, the surprises don’t stop. The game reveals an epic map, highly stylized in the fantastic art that has been present in every facet of the demo so far. Not only that, but it seems huge. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There are countless areas to discover and seemingly revisit over the course of the game.

And I have to be honest—I’ve held on to a huge omission so far. This entire story is being told through a The Princess Bride-like lens, with what seems to be a mother telling it to her sick son in the hospital. It’s another interesting layer to the already impressive game. There’s clearly a tone that comes through the voice acting, and a dynamic present in the script, that tells us everything here isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. A unique addition to a game that, quite frankly, didn’t even need it.

So there you have it—a preview roughly the size of one of my typical reviews. It just goes to show you how hard this demo sold me. It was truly a “playing is believing” situation. Now, I’m only left with one final question.

When can I actually play it?

Those familiar with the genre know that Soulslikes are supposed to be tough, brutal, and mentally taxing—often ramping up in difficulty until you arrive at a final boss fight that demands near-perfect execution and mental resilience that few players have the patience for. So why was it that when I faced the final boss of Mio: Memories in Orbit, I felt not fear, not frustration, but comfort?

The answer applies to nearly my entire experience with the game. Through its visuals, its story, and—more than anything—its music, Mio pulled a level of raw emotion from me that I’ve rarely felt while playing other Soulsvanias (Soulslike + Metroidvania). I won’t bury the lead: I wholeheartedly recommend Mio: Memories in Orbit. But more than with almost any other game in this genre, I hope you’ll read on to understand why this one surprised me as much as it did.

What Is Mio: Memories in Orbit About?

Explaining Mio isn’t easy—and that’s largely because it’s one of those classic amnesia stories. You play as Mio, a spaghetti-haired little robot who wakes up aboard a derelict ship. You don’t know what’s happening, you don’t really know who you are, and all you have is a disembodied voice speaking in what sounds like poetic fragments.

It doesn’t take long to learn that the ship is doomed, and unless you intervene, everything onboard will perish. The interesting twist is that there are no organic beings present—only robots.

This setup leads to a generally predictable story. There are a few surprises here and there, but for the most part, I could see where things were heading. In some cases, moments only landed as surprises because the game didn’t do the best job setting up characters who later became fairly pivotal. And yet, despite all of that, Mio turned out to be unexpectedly touching.

The way the story unfolds and how the characters slowly develop over the course of the 15–20-hour journey is handled with a surprising amount of care.

A World Without Hope

The story takes place within an ecosystem on the verge of collapse, and the robots inhabiting it are struggling to cope. Not always out of fear—though that’s certainly present—but because their sense of duty, and the meaning behind their existence, has been called into question.

Whether you’re witnessing the comedic relationship between the ship’s main tinkerer and its minion-like assistants, or listening to the pain and regret of a machine that believes its failure doomed everything, there’s a somber energy that permeates the entire game. It makes you appreciate the smaller moments and approach the larger ones through a different lens.

Gameplay is Good, but not Great

This is where I think most players will walk away feeling lukewarm.

With Soulslike elements front and center, the combat deserves close scrutiny. Mechanically, Mio feels similar to games like Hollow Knight or Nine Sols. You have a standard attack, unlock traditional Metroidvania upgrades over time, and customize your playstyle through a module system, which you have access to at this game’s “bonfires”.

The core combat feels responsive and precise enough that I never felt cheated by a boss. That said, I wish the module system offered more room for creativity. I ended up using the same handful of modules for most of the game, and many late-game perks never synergized well with my builds—largely because of how expensive they were to equip.

Enemy variety and boss encounters are fairly standard for the genre, landing somewhere in the middle in terms of difficulty. The game is challenging, and many players will find certain bosses frustrating. While the runbacks are never as punishing as something like Silksong, a few are undeniably annoying. Thankfully, accessibility options let you adjust the difficulty if that’s a dealbreaker.

Enemy design, overall, didn’t leave a lasting impression. While I enjoyed most encounters moment-to-moment, there are probably only one or two enemies I’ll remember long-term. That said, I do want to give a special shoutout to one boss fight that ended up being entirely platforming-focused rather than combat-driven—a genuinely refreshing change of pace.

Platforming: Where Mio Truly Shines

Platforming is easily where Mio is at its best.

The world is packed with platforming challenges of varying difficulty, and I loved almost all of them. The sheer number of clever obstacle combinations created some genuinely satisfying platforming puzzles. Importantly, the difficulty consistently hovered in a Goldilocks zone—challenging, but never so punishing that it felt pointless to attempt.

The only downside is that rewards didn’t always match the effort required, which circles back to my earlier issues with the module system.

Visuals and Artistic Direction

Here’s where the game locks in and reaches a level few others do.

I could argue that the visuals alone make Mio: Memories in Orbit worth playing. The hand-drawn art style is unlike anything I’ve experienced before. Sketch-like strokes form the foundation of every scene, while bold and deliberate color choices bring each environment to life. The result feels like concept art in motion.

It captures desolation and pain with a strange, almost beautiful melancholy—something I can only describe as a kind of visual blues. It’s a cliché, but it applies here: every frame feels like a painting. And honestly, it might be one of the most gorgeous games I’ve ever played.

This extends to the game’s directorial choices as well. Death—whether yours or a boss’s—is often portrayed through an abrupt cut to black, punctuated by stark white silhouettes. Over time, this choice grows increasingly impactful as its meaning evolves alongside the story.

Subtle animation quirks help toe the line between robotic programming and genuine emotion, and each biome feels thoughtfully realized. Selling the idea that a single spaceship could house such varied environments—each with its own history—is no small feat, and Mio pulls it off. Without this level of thought and artistic intention, I genuinely believe the game would have fallen flat.

Soundtrack: The Heart of Mio

And now, the most important part of the game.

Composer Nicolas Guéguen completely guided my emotional interpretation of Mio: Memories in Orbit. I’ve spent days desperately searching for confirmation of a vinyl release, because this is without a doubt one of my favorite video game soundtracks of all time.

I’m a sucker for heavy use of choirs and layered vocals in instrumental music. When done well, they can steer emotion with pinpoint accuracy—and that’s exactly what happens here.

Techno-electronic beats paired with mesmerizing female vocals constantly reinforce the game’s core theme: the blurred line between sentient beings and programmed machines. Some boss tracks feel like battles against rogue A.I., while others place you in something closer to a quasi-religious conflict. The biome themes oscillate between quiet melancholy and unsettling growth.

I could write another thousand words about the music alone, but the soundtrack is available on Spotify and YouTube. Even if you never play the game, I strongly recommend giving it a listen.

Final Thoughts

It should be obvious by now that I loved Mio: Memories in Orbit. It’s a deeply affecting piece of art that will stick with me for years. That said, it isn’t perfect. It’s not a masterpiece, and I don’t expect most players to connect with it the way I did.

Still, if you’ve read this far, all I ask is that you give it a chance. Peruse the art. Listen to the music. And if you’re up for it, play through the game.

Mio: Memories in Orbit has so much heart and personality that I’d hate to see it dismissed as “just another Soulslike Metroidvania.” Slow down. Take it in. And show some love for what I believe is one of the most passion-fueled indie projects in a long time.

Several months ago, I put out an article titled PAX East 2025: Has the Physical Connection Between Fans and Content Been Severed? In it, I explained that while I had a lot of fun at PAX East, it didn’t seem to reflect the current state of the gaming industry. Games of all sizes felt missing, and almost no sector of the industry felt properly represented. Well, I can happily say that PAX West felt like it remedies most, if not all, of my concerns.

CantPause

PAX East 2025: Has the Physical Connection Between Fans and Content Been Severed?

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a year ago · Joseph Hooper

The Big Dogs Are Back

This was a convention that I feel like I could proudly recommend to anyone even slightly interested in games. For the first time in what seems like years, there was a huge slate of upcoming AAA titles, such as Resident Evil, Onimusha, Borderlands 4, Hollow Knight: Silksong, and even Bubsy 4D—all playable on the floor. Now granted, most of these demos had constantly capped lines on the busier days, but even if you didn’t get to play them, their sheer presence and the grandeur of their booths brought back a long-lost energy to the weekend.

Fostering Indies

Not only that, but there were a lot—and I mean a lot—of exciting new indie developers showing off their games for the first time here at PAX. As someone who regularly makes an effort to stay up to date on the most exciting indie projects, I was genuinely surprised by the number of fantastic games I stumbled upon. Games like Blocks for Babies, Terrible Lizards, and No Stone Unturned stole the show and proved that PAX was still a viable and worthwhile event for indies to make a splash.

This may seem like an obvious observation that doesn’t need stating. Still, over the past few years, I’ve attended event after event where I've seen the same booths with the same games, and over time, it felt like the small PAX Rising section was the last bastion of exciting demos. I realize this could be attributed to a million factors: economic conditions, games taking longer than expected to release, publishers wanting to push their portfolios, etc. Whatever the reasons may be, it seems—for now at least—that the tides have turned.

Start Planning Your Trip

I’ll always keep it real with you guys, and the truth is, I was not entirely comfortable recommending PAX after my experience at East. It was fun—but not a one-size-fits-all kind of fun. It felt like it was fun for a specific type of gamer who was looking for a very particular category of game. After coming back energized, grateful, and happy, I feel confident enough to strongly recommend PAX to anyone on the fence about attending. You’ll discover and play a treasure trove of games both big and small, and you’ll also likely meet at least one friendly face during your time in line or at panels. Also, I’m partial to Seattle. Partly because I live here, and partly because I think the timing lines up perfectly with the fall marketing cycle, so you have a greater selection of new games to try out. That being said, I have a feeling Boston will be a great time next year as well.

PAX is back.

TL;DR

If you like…

• The humor and randomness of Undertale

• Fully-voiced dialogue

• Engaging murder mysteries

• Extremely varied gameplay

Then No Stone Unturned might be for you

But keep in mind…

• The game still needs polishing on some of the gameplay

• It’s more about puzzle-solving and story than fast-paced action

  ---

A Rare Trait

It’s very rare that I click with a game’s comedic writing. So rare that I can actually list off the games that stand out to me as having genuinely clever and witty experiences:

• South Park: The Stick of Truth

• What Lies in the Multiverse

• Portal 1 & 2

• Undertale

Now, I’m sure I’m excluding dozens of titles that coaxed a chuckle out of me, but the ones above are truly the only experiences that stuck with me well past the credits. I don’t know what it is about video games specifically, but it often feels like dev teams treat humor as an afterthought. Instead of taking the time to craft timeless, creative jokes that play to the strengths of the medium, too many games take the easy path—relying on short-lived memes and MCU-like quips.

It’s because of my ridiculously—let’s call it “unique”— sense of humor that I can’t help but get excited about games that feel like they might have a shot at making it onto that ever-so-exclusive mental list of mine.

Behold: An Undertale-like

That’s where No Stone Unturned comes in. I stumbled upon this title during my time on PAX West show floor, and I was not prepared for just how much I would love the hands-on demo (which is available on Steam right now).

The simple pitch is that No Stone Unturned is a murder mystery about why the chicken crossed the road. That alone grabbed me, but within minutes, it became clear the game is way more than that. At first glance, it looked like a run-of-the-mill point-and-click game. I actually got nervous that I’d be stuck in a demo full of slow dialogue cycles and tedious investigation mechanics. But just as quickly as that fear crept in, it disappeared. Before you even have time to judge, the game starts throwing curveballs. Whether it’s a fantastic voice performance, an overly detailed plank of wood, or the nonstop repetition of the name “Detective Cox,” this game is relentless in its efforts to catch you off guard.

So now that you’re familiar with No Stone Unturned, let’s circle back to the Undertale aspect of it all. While I know that comparison comes with a heavy burden, and the team over at Wise Monkey might even want to avoid it, I can’t help but draw connections. Many people, including myself, love Undertale because of how charming and unexpected the game is. It constantly shifts tone, gameplay, location, and dialogue in a way that showcases how well gameplay and comedy can blend. It’s not leaning on any specific game or genre as a touchstone; it’s pulling together dozens of influences to create something utterly unique. In recent years, the not-so-indie Dave the Diver wisely did something similar to catch fire among a specific audience of players. And now, No Stone Unturned seems to be vying for the next spot in line.

The game boasts a cast of wacky characters, unexpected twists and turns, a boatload of laughs, and gameplay meant to keep you surprised and engaged. It’s a tall order that many have attempted to take on, but it seems that for this game, all the pieces are there.

Room for Work

Now this demo was not without its flaws. I really did love most of the bits. The staring contest, the floor stain Pokemon battle, and even the character that looked like the meatball from Aqua Teen Hunger Force were all awesome. But the last mini-game of the demo drove me nuts (no pun intended). It’s essentially a platforming challenge without jumping. That alone is not the issue; the issue is that the controls made it very frustrating and clunky to navigate, and the game makes you endure this not once but twice in what seemed like an extension of the gag. It’s certainly possible frustrations like this could end up being the Achilles’ heel of the game, but I have to imagine after seeing countless people struggle with it all weekend, the lead developer will revisit that section of the game and any others that could cause unnecessary friction.

Keep Your Eyes Glued to This Game

As someone who appreciates new and surprising experiences in games, No Stone Unturned shot way up my most-anticipated list for 2026. Any game that can get me softly chuckling in the middle of a crowded PAX event has earned my respect. I do think the game will be for a specific audience with a specific type of humor, but if it comes out polished and streamlined, it has a lot of potential to make a big splash and stand tall among the competition.

I recently made my annual trip to Boston to participate in PAX East 2025. It’s a trip I regularly look forward to for many reasons: seeing friends, enjoying panels, but most importantly, seeing what’s happening on the ground floor of the industry. At first glance, it seemed like this year was like most others, which meant a few lavish displays of wealth by the biggest publishers, with dozens of passionate indie devs filling the remaining gaps. But when I looked closer, I noticed something was off. There was a feeling of stagnancy. The true pulse of the industry was missing. While I still see PAX as a vitally important piece for the community, this trip made it abundantly clear to me that the reason for its importance has drastically changed.

Tales of Yesteryear

I have been going to at least one yearly PAX since 2018, which was the year I moved to Seattle. Aside from the COVID years, I have attended every PAX West since then, and starting in 2023, I also began attending PAX East. That first PAX West in 2018 was unforgettable. It translated to a Disney-like experience for anyone into the hobby of video games. They transformed the entire bottom floor of a convention building into a complete Fortnite mini-golf attraction. PlayStation was there in full force with a full activation where you could play Spiderman early, and almost every other big publisher had their own grandiose experience, making each day’s activity planning that much harder to decide. Not only that, but you had dozens upon dozens of independent developers showing off their games for the first time, hoping to drum up an early fan base and maybe court a publisher in the process.

I’m reminiscing on these moments not to brag, but to paint a picture of how intertwined the expo was with what was happening in the industry. It was a perfect snapshot of both the AAA and indie worlds. Fans of all types could converge on this single location and find something to be excited about immediately. You could get exclusive merch, play that one game you had been hearing about for years, and even attend panels with the biggest developers and creators in the industry. To this day, I think it was the one event that perfectly connected fans with the hobby. For the longest time, E3 was the hotspot for publishers and people in the industry, and PlayStation, Nintendo, and Xbox would often have location-specific, semi-exclusive events for their audiences, but PAX was the only central Mecca where almost anyone who liked video games could attend and feel confident they were going to have a good time.

PAX is no longer that.

Disconnected from Reality

As I was walking the show floor this year, it dawned on me that PAX no longer reflected the industry. The direct link between the fans and the companies defining the shape had been severed. This is not to say that PAX is now bad, but I can no longer say it is an event for any and every fan of gaming like it once was. Bryant Francis commented on this as well in an article at Game Developer focusing on the decline in specialists, but I am looking at it from a slightly different angle: the industry has abandoned physical spaces.

By now, everyone can see that after COVID, most of the big players in the industry realized that they don’t often need to go the extra mile to convince people to play their games. Building a physical space to market and demo a game is expensive and complicated, and at the end of the day, while it is exciting, it is not the driver of excitement. The video game industry has matured into an audience of billions, and any limited-time physical event will only capture a microscopic fraction of that audience. Meanwhile, a YouTube trailer has the potential to reach half a billion people across the globe in just 24 hours. And so, just like that, many of the lavish activations that we had become accustomed to felt like they disappeared overnight.

In general, I think this is bad. It brings fewer eyes to the event; the general value of your ticket to PAX has decreased over time, but more importantly, it has had an interesting effect on the indie space. In some ways, I think fewer big publishers are great for the indies who decide to attend the event. Attendees who used to spend their time waiting all day in the Kingdom Hearts 3 lines now explore the floor more and try things that they may not have otherwise. It also gives the smaller projects a chance to steal buzz and become the talk of the weekend, while before, a chance to touch Mario Odyssey would be the only thing anyone would talk about. Ultimately, though, this is a rising tide lifts all ships situation, and I think as more tentpole companies pull out of PAX over the years, visibility into the industry reduces as a whole. Not to mention, many of those big publishers would also themselves champion smaller games at their booths.

Evolve and Adapt

I don’t think it’s all doom and gloom, though. I think PAX will evolve and survive. Something that hasn’t really changed is the passion behind the people showcasing their games. I know it sounds cheesy, but interacting with people who have put their all and potentially risked their livelihoods to create their dream game is something you can only experience at PAX. To take it a step further, even many of the volunteers and publishers are extremely proud and excited to introduce you to these games. It really is, maybe the most intimate and genuine setting in games for people who don’t have the privilege to be invited to the year’s most exclusive press events.

As you’ll see in content that will soon drop, I played a handful of fantastic games this year at PAX East, and I expect to play even more at PAX West. But I can’t help but mourn the PAX of yesteryear, which was the place for the average gaming fan to connect physically with their hobby every year. I hope PAX continues to fight to create a healthy space for developers to connect with fans in this post-COVID world, as I think that it’s more important than ever to remind people that every little aspect of the hobby doesn’t need to be interacted with digitally.

When I was scheduling appointments for PAX West 2024, I saw an opportunity that jolted me out of my chair. No, I didn’t get invited to the behind-closed-doors Nintendo press briefing, but I

got what some (including myself) would consider the next best thing: a one-on-one chat with Kai Moore, the co-founder and producer at Wrong Organ.

Now, if you don’t know Wrong Organ, I won’t scold you. They are a fairly small, relatively new development team based in Stockholm. As with many new studios, their portfolio is still budding. As of writing this, they have only one title on Steam called How Fish is Made, which is actually free to play if you want to try it out.

So why did I get so excited to talk with someone from this seemingly random indie team on the other side of the world? My answer is very simple: Mouthwashing.

Several months back, I was browsing Steam Next Fest and came across a demo for a narrative-focused horror game in a retro PSone graphics style. I decided to give it a try, and thirty minutes later, I found myself gripping my Steam Deck in horror. Sure, that horror was partly due to what I had just witnessed in the demo, but it was primarily because I had no idea when I would be able to play more. Within what seemed like just a few minutes, that demo set up all the right elements for my ideal horror game: interesting characters, dark humor, an absence of “in-your-face” scares, and most importantly, unsettling and psychologically disturbing gameplay.

Mouthwashing is a game about a stranded space crew doomed to live out their final days with their maimed and psychotic ship captain. The story is told through jump cuts between sometimes normal, sometimes horrific scenes that depict the slow degradation of a group of people who are forced to endure mental and physical hardships as they creep toward the end of their lives.

The premise is incredibly disturbing, but honestly, I found the presentation of the game a bit disarming. The dialogue sucked me in from the start, the level design and visual storytelling sparked my curiosity about the potential lore to uncover, and the gameplay made me feel like I was an equal member of the crew. I think it all culminated with the moment in the demo when it became clear why the game was called Mouthwashing. It was such a hilariously grim moment that got me excited about what else this game had up its sleeve.

I realize that I’m hyping up relatively simple gameplay features, but I can’t understate how crucial it is that all these parts come together to deliver an experience with purpose. The reason I love horror movies and books is because of the places the stories take me. Stories that deliver equally interesting and unsettling themes, weaponizing my imagination against me. I’ve found it hard to find that same experience in games. Many of the most popular horror games I’ve come across let the story fall by the wayside in favor of producing horror through gameplay and visuals. While I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad way to leverage the interactive nature of games to create a compelling experience, personally, I don’t care about being jump-scared for a quick rush of adrenaline.

During my discussion with Kai, I continuously prodded for answers on how the team was able to produce scenes that were simultaneously natural, funny, and off-putting. Ultimately, all roads led back to their narrative designer, Johanna. Johanna was the mastermind behind the characters, dialogue, and overall plot. Similar to how Tim Schafer famously drives the scripts for Double Fine’s most beloved titles, Johanna sets up the alley-oops for the team to dunk.

A great example of this was a moment towards the end of the demo when you’re tasked with going into a storage room to look for a particular item. What starts as a relatively simple task begins to blur into madness as the game starts to play tricks on you. You begin to lose track of time, your sense of reality, and your understanding of the situation. While there are no puzzles or platforming challenges, the gameplay at this moment ratchets up the tension as you are forced to take control in a scene that is quickly becoming more bizarre by the second.

I love it when a game can trick me into forgetting I’m playing a game and instead immerse me in the moment, and Mouthwashing seems like that type of experience. It’s not often that I come across an indie title, let alone a demo for an indie title, and immediately draw comparisons across multiple media. I saw shades of Alien, felt tones reminiscent of Ari Aster, and gameplay-wise, even sensed (very light) hints of Resident Evil 2. This is not to say you’ll feel the same exact inspirations, or that those were used when designing the game, but just the fact that I am being reminded of so much of my favorite art is a good sign.

Kai mentioned how Mouthwashing would be a demonstration of the team’s ability to be a creative force. It shows they can deliver an interesting and messed-up story with important themes layered throughout. In this case, the gameplay would serve as a complement to the narrative they are building, but he emphasized that the goal was to develop a portfolio of titles that would showcase the team’s many strengths. Based on my time playing Mouthwashing, this is just the beginning of Wrong Organ’s story.

Check out Mouthwashing when it releases on September 26, 2024.

If you had asked me a month ago about Balatro, I would have had no clue what it was. Now,less than a week after its release I have already sunk in twenty hours without sign of stopping. It had no huge marketing campaign, no hype machine, and no viral social media posts. Despite that, it has seemed to force its way into the spotlight, garnering critical and commercial success. How? The answer may sound hyperbolic, but the way it’s achieved all of this success is by being one of the best indie roguelikes (and maybe roguelikes in general) ever made.

Balatro is all about creating Poker hands. When you think about it, it’s a concept that’s simultaneously simple and genius. It strips down all of the complexity that comes with competing and scheming against other degenerate gamblers and retains only the core ranking logic of the game. Relying on this time-tested and balanced foundation for scoring allows the rest of the game to run wild with modifiers that serve as stewards for unique deck builds.

Because the core gameplay loop is so essential to any great roguelike, I can’t think of any better way to break down the beauty of this game than walking through what a typical round of Balatro looks like.

Every level (called Antes) consists of three rounds: two standard rounds where you must target score, and a final boss round that adds a difficulty modifier to make things a little more challenging. Just analyzing the scene of each ante is a game of strategy in itself. You immediately start making decisions based on the information in front of you. Both of the first two rounds can be skipped, which means you forgo the designated payout you could have won and used to buy more cards for your deck, but skipping also means that you can get a specific tag bonus that could be invaluable down the road. I’ve spent far more time than I would like to admit just sitting on the level select screen, weighing the opportunity cost of accelerating my showdown with the boss for a tag that may or may not leave me in a better place.

Once you’ve decided to skip or play, you’ll eventually be thrust into a game. To aid you in your game planning, you are given a list of all the possible Poker hands you can play, along with their scoring values, as well as a running tally of what types of cards remain in your deck. Equipped with a certain number of discards, you can now use these resources to help you strategize on how to build the highest-scoring hands possible based on your meta. Using unique playing cards and Jokers you bought in the shop can create monstrous multipliers that will set the scoring meter ablaze and rocket you to victory. It’s not a cool walk in the park,k though; you often need to put your faith in the heart of the cards. You’ll become the world’s most adept statistician as you calculate the probability that you’ll get the card that can help you complete your Two Pair, Flush, Straight, or whatever hand you depend on most. It’s a game where you completely control the pace, but that doesn’t make it any less exhilarating as you’re sweating in fear of your running total not hitting that target score. No worries, though; eventually, you’ll win, get paid, and get to take a trip to the shop.

The shop serves as the end and the beginning of this ouroboros, depending on how you look at it. There, you are faced with the classic roguelike decisions of picking your modifiers and building out your deck. You are presented with Jokers, which are constant game modifiers, planetary cards that level up the value of certain hands, tarot cards that modify existing cards in your deck, playing cards to add to the deck, and spectral cards, which usually give you some rate enhancement. Looking at all the options, it’s easy to dream up builds as far as the eye can see. You’ll find yourself poring over every card to figure out what seems most promising, and when you finally make a decision, it just throws fuel on the fire of excitement and feeds this urge compelling you to go out and try out your latest changes.

This is the incredibly satisfying loop of Balatro. Regardless of how many times you win or lose, this loop will pull you back in. There is always something new to try. Maybe you want to try a Flush deck built around a Joker card that reduces all cards to one of two suits, or a Face deck built around the Joker card that counts every card as a Face card, or maybe you want to stack 10 planetary upgrades on your Two Pair multiplier. It doesn’t end at your card meta either. As you play more of the game, you also unlock starting decks that have special properties, endless modes, and challenge modifiers.

After experiencing this loop hundreds of times, I think I understand why it works so well. It’s because, unlike most roguelikes, the purpose is not to beat a curated set of baddies; it’s about seeing how fast you can evolve your understanding of the game. Every run, you have a chance of making it all the way. There are no enemies; you need several runs to learn, and no AI opponents are adapting and countering your playstyle. I’m not saying these things are bad, but they are intentionally exhausting. Balatro is an exercise of the mind. Sure, RNG can put you in a pickle sometimes, but for the most part, if you scheme well enough, you can overcome any challenge put in front of you. When you lose, you know that you have a chance if you just think about things differently next time. The fact that you can almost always see a path to victory serves as a carrot on a stick that will keep you playing for hours at a time.

I know I’ve just been gushing about this game for several paragraphs, but as of now, I don’t have any major complaints. Sure, maybe there could be a bigger selection of starter decks to build from, maybe the little Joker character that talks to you could play a bigger part in the game, or maybe there could be a fun story thread on top of the game. I could go on and on about nice-to-haves, but the truth is the game doesn’t feel like it’s missing anything.

Balatro has achieved a rare feat in gaming and gotten out of its own way. It knows exactly what it wants to do and leans heavily into that. It features a charming yet simple art style that I can’t ever see going out of style. Similar to a game like Solitaire, the gameplay beckons you toward experimentation as opposed to conquering, meaning that regardless of how many times you win, you want to play more. And maybe most importantly, the game doesn’t put much pressure on you. It’s cathartic. You aren’t busting your thumbs trying to survive the 50th boss room with difficulty modifiers maxed out, you aren’t racing to beat some clock that’s setting the pace for you, you’re taking your time, matching symbols, and pairing up numbers. This might be the high coming off of a great game, but several years down the line, I think Balatro will prove to be one that can withstand the test of time. I can’t recommend buying it enough.

P.S. - We need an official Balatro deck to buy as merch, please and thank you.

After rolling credits on Alan Wake II, I can say with full confidence that Remedy has reached a Golden Era of game development that I hope never ends. The experience they crafted for this game rocked me to my core almost exactly as Control did when I played it for the first time several years ago. There were so many fresh and novel game design ideas that successfully pulled me deeper and deeper into the story that the team very obviously put their whole heart into. While this may be the easiest recommendation I make all year, the game is not perfect. Oddly enough, that only makes me more excited, as I start to fantasize about the obvious areas of growth future projects can capitalize on.

There are dozens of places I could start this review, but let’s eat our dessert first. Alan Wake II is gorgeous. It’s a feast for the eyes. I recently built a PC after exclusively console gaming for over a decade, and this was the perfect game to justify the purchase. The textures and coloring of the people and environment do an incredible amount of heavy lifting in immersing the player in the game. Everything looks detailed and moody, almost as if you’re consuming the video game equivalent of an HBO show. The notoriously bad plastic hair texture that single-handedly breaks immersion in most AAA games is nowhere to be found, and instead, you get incredibly believable character models that closely resemble their live-action counterparts.

The astounding environmental design, sound design, and visual effects resulted in this being one of the scariest games I’ve played in some time. Hearing shadows shout-whisper “WAKE” from behind me or hearing a Taken ramble nonsense just off-screen in the dark forest had me shook. The game is not overly traumatic or anything; it’s mostly a master of building tension and doubting what lies right out of sight. It makes casual combat encounters so much more nerve-wracking because you never know how many enemies could be coming, if it’s worth it to stay and fight, or what my waiting for you if you plunge deeper into the unknown. This is just flowery language to explain how this game (that’s probably not all that scary compared to other games) turned me into a big baby.

But the real star of the show is the lighting. Very early on you get a taste of the sun peaking through the mist and the trees to create one of the most beautiful passive lighting effects I’ve ever seen in a game. No matter the time of day or location, the lighting in this game delivers a 10/10 performance and completely transforms the mood of the game. I’m not sure what sorcery Remedy did on their engine to make this all possible, but I have no issue saying that is one of the main factors contributing to why I found the moment-to-moment gameplay to be such an enjoyable experience.

While the visuals of Alan Wake II were an incredible triumph, the real reason many will be attracted to this franchise is, and always will be, the narrative. The story of Alan Wake is a mind-bender, but Remedy does a lot of work to make it manageable. The most obvious strategy is to break up the game into two separate (but intertwining) campaigns. At any given time, you are at liberty to play as one of two main characters: An FBI detective named Saga Anderson investigating Bright Falls murders, and the writer Alan Wake stuck in a faux New York City. Both campaigns have their strengths and shortcomings, but overall I think that together they create one of this year’s biggest heavyweights in game direction.

The reason I fell in love with the brand-new IP that was Control was due to the expert world-building. Every piece of dialogue, every little visual easter egg, and every document you found all fed into this cycle of questions and answers that ultimately made up the world of the game. Alan Wake II is no different, and it’s the reason I love it so much. The game feels like navigating a maze. Information is presented out of order, in the form of riddles, or in a misleading fashion, and the game seems like it’s pushing you to feel constantly lost. The exciting part is that most of the answers are there. I collected pieces of Alan’s manuscript or talked to certain NPCs as the game progressed and started to craft my own personal theories as to what was going on, and eventually, a lot of those theories were validated. I felt rewarded for following the clues and throwaway moments from start to finish, and not only that, but I even had a few more theories that were left unanswered, which I’m excited to expand upon more in future content.

The character acting only added to this. Having characters that are not only putting on pretty strong voice-acting performances but are also doing live-action clips as well is incredible. The way these two mediums were seamlessly woven together helped produce a result unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in games. While I felt like the live-action uses got a little heady at times, I still really appreciated that this game really took the live-action element that has always been present in Remedy’s games to the next level.

While the story itself was pretty enthralling from start to end, the gameplay elements tied to it were hit or miss. Saga’s mind place case board was cool at first, but as time went on, it seemed like a tool to help the struggling player as opposed to being a key mechanic. Oftentimes times I would visit the board only to find out that I was several steps ahead of where the game wanted me to be. Other times, I was forced to interact with it to further the story, even though I had already figured out what I needed to do without it. It’s a hard mechanic to do right when it is utilizing information you’ve already gathered in the game. In a way, I was able to utilize my own mind-place to solve the mysteries of the game instead of using Saga’s, which is pretty funny to think about, but also sad from a gameplay perspective.

Alan’s plot board, on the other hand, was genius. Alan would actively affect the gameplay by making decisions in his writer’s room. Almost every “scene” had multiple options that slightly switched up reality, making for some really interesting gameplay moments. I really wish Saga had a similar gameplay mechanic where the choices weren’t spoon-fed to you and you had to do some level of experimentation or deduction.

That being said, out of the two campaigns, I enjoyed Saga’s the most. The comparisons to True Detective were not unfounded, and I would even say that they nailed the inspiration. Despite the lack of utility in the case board, I still had a blast playing detective. The locations and the people within them felt incredibly authentic to the world that was established. I was filled with immense dread as I navigated the dark and empty Coffee World theme park. I was overcome with intrigue as I tried to unravel the lore behind a familiar cast of characters, and there was a subtle comfort I got knowing I had my partner Alex Casey with me on the investigation. Even without the supernatural elements, I think Saga’s story could be turned into a compelling standalone game with how well the town of Bright Falls was fleshed out here.

Taking a break from the narrative aspect of the game, I would like to pore over the gameplay a bit. I think it’s fair to call the combat and general gameplay serviceable. I think in terms of the survival horror genre, the balance of fight or flight when it comes to the enemies might be right up there (but below) Resident Evil. There was this perfect feeling of stress that almost any encounter could create. For most of the game, there is this steady push and pull of resources that requires you to think twice about engaging in any combat encounter. When you do, the weapons pack a pretty satisfying punch, and combined with the excellent gore detail on the enemies, it really feels like you’re doing some damage.

Alas, everything is not all sunshine and rainbows. There are dozens of places where the combat can be improved. I felt like the flashlight supercharge was a bit finicky, which does not help in high-stress scenarios. Also, just the general dodging and movement controls felt a little off. There are a few scripted combat situations in the game that are pretty tough, and I would argue that a majority of that difficulty was due to me fighting the controls, fumbling through my inventory, and not being able to effectively track the enemy. Fortunately, combat mostly takes a back seat in this game, giving you plenty of time to prepare and strategize around most of the smaller encounters. My foolproof strategy was to usually book it past any Taken I could.

Despite there being numerous places of improvement on both the narrative and gameplay side, Alan Wake II was an experience I will not soon forget. It threw me into this world that only got more interesting with every additional level, and it’s a world I can’t wait to return to for the DLC. Control and Alan Wake are becoming the ultimate intertwining series that people have always begged for from the Marvel franchises, and some may look at this game the same way people look at that original tease of Thanos back in the early MCU days. In a period of gaming where many of our titles are sequels or remakes, it is incredibly encouraging to see Remedy take this chance to completely redefine what we think about when we envision the Alan Wake franchise. The game features tons of off-the-wall choices that are blended with tried and true survival horror game design. The end result is a product that feels fresh and inventive, which I have no doubt will not just push future games in the genre forward but gaming as a whole.

Let’s just cut to the chase. Sea of Stars was a huge disappointment for me…at first. This had been one of my most anticipated indie games for years, and it just didn’t really wow me at all. Don’t get me wrong, I was enjoying it, but in a world where I had just come off Chained Echoes earlier in the year, I felt that while the individual components were great, I wasn’t seeing the magic or innovation I had hoped.

And then that changed.

By the end, I was completely sold on everything Sabatoge was trying to do. I don’t know if I’ve ever done a bigger 180 while playing a game (outside of maybe Tony Hawk), and I couldn’t be happier that I ended that way. From the very beginning, Sea of Stars aims to deliver the perfect retro experience. It takes all of our memories from our favorite classic RPGs and presents a pristine and idyllic version of the memories we conjured from the past. And while it took some time, boy, did it win me over.

Sea of Stars is the story of two heroes imbued with the power of the sun and the moon who were chosen by fate. They are raised as Solstice warriors who are destined to patrol the world and shut down evil beings called Dwellers before they can fester and evolve into World Eaters. Along their journey, they are joined by a motley crew of companions who dedicate their unique skills to the cause.

The gameplay is broken into two sections: your in-battle turn-based combat, and your (extremely) Metroidvania-lite exploration that you experience across the game's dozens of explorable (not to be confused with open-world) areas.

The combat, while simple, is a pretty interesting take on your traditional turn-based combat. The action entirely revolves around weaknesses and timing. The weakness mechanic essentially allows you the cancel an enemy’s upcoming attack if you can hit them with all of their weaknesses (which are randomized for every upcoming attack) before it reaches their turn. As you attack and defend, you can also gain small bonuses (in the form of extra damage, mana recovery, less damage taken, and other benefits) by timing a press of the action button with the event happening on screen.

The combination of dynamic gameplay modifiers and rhythmic action is a great hook to get the player locked in with the flow of combat and help maintain engagement in a traditionally slow genre. Add in the character-specific combo attacks and unique ultimate abilities, and you have a pretty big playground to experiment in. On the flip side, many of the generic enemy encounters feel like fodder more than a real challenge, and despite all of the stimulating overlay layered over combat, many of these fights still feel mindless.

The art, from both a visual and audio perspective, is stunning. The game has some of the best pixel art set pieces and character pieces I’ve seen in years, and the score by Mitsuda and company is competing as one of the best scores of 2023. I could point out dozens of designs from the giant dragon snared around one of the early maps to wise (and lethal) Elder Mist that had me in awe as I continued to unravel the creativity of this world. And within the first 30 minutes, I had figured out my favorite theme was going to be that of the childhood companion, Garl. These are just a few examples of how these two media came together to provide an experience that really forces a smile on your face.

So why was I so cold on this game to begin with? Well, I think it has to do with the nostalgic play pacing of the game. This game is not trying to push RPGs forward; instead, it almost serves as a retrospective of the past. It takes common tropes and mechanics of the genre and smooths out the edges. So if you’ve played a lot of RPGs, this game will feel very familiar, and that’s the point.

While the combat mechanics can be really interesting in tougher scenarios, I found a lot of the early game to be quite easy. On top of that, while I enjoyed the story, in the beginning, I took it as more of a predictable, cute hero story than a deep and fleshed-out narrative. As a result, very early, I began yearning for something to take this game to the next level. It was fun, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t necessarily seen before. And when you consider what high expectations I had for this game before jumping in, I ended up quite disappointed in the beginning.

Despite that, I wanted to see this game to the end and I’m glad that I did, because given more time, Sabatoge was really able to build on the foundation they had laid out in the first few hours. All of the different aspects that I was lukewarm on started to sing out of nowhere. The characters that I had encountered started to open up and reveal their aspirations and conflicts. I discovered more combos and unlocked some devastating ultimate abilities that allowed me to switch my gameplay up in interesting ways. The bosses started to arrive at a faster clip, and the journey the main characters were on started to take drastic and sudden turns I wasn’t expecting. It was then that I finally started getting the vision. I started getting lost in a game that felt familiar but new.

The world of Sea of Stars is one I will not soon forget. From the ancient lore told by Teaks that always had a way of sneaking into our adventure, to the strange hidden locations on the overworld map whose true purpose stayed secret until the very last moment. While it comes together slowly, it’s magical when it ultimately clicks. The emotional moments hit, the mysterious moments interest, and exciting moments get you perked up in unexpected ways.

To all my fellow retro RPG fans out there, I implore you to give this game a fair shake. Sabatoge has an exciting and touching story that I think deserves to be experienced. This is their love letter to the genre. Sea of Stars delivers that story in an extremely polished package that successfully revises tons of missteps made by old-school RPGs and highlights past innovations. Commit to the journey, and maybe they’ll make a believer out of you like they did me.

From my perspective, I would say that the puzzle genre has been starved for content for over a decade. One would have thought that the successes of titles like Portal and The Witness would be the catalyst for a rush to carve out space in one of the few areas in video games that isn’t overcrowded. Instead, there are very few modern puzzle games being developed, and even fewer that are actually pushing the genre forward. This is why when I first heard of Viewfinder, I started getting antsy with excitement. The game pitched well in a trailer: use perspective to your advantage and create your own unique solutions to the game’s challenges. It was a mind-bending concept that I was eager to put to the test. To my surprise, when everything was said and done, I could confidently say that the puzzle gameplay lived up to all its promises. Unfortunately, it was when I started looking for more that I ran into some trouble. Let’s break it down.

Viewfinder is a game that is hard to describe with words alone. The main concept of the game is that you’re using perspective to place objects in the world (which makes them bigger, smaller, etc.) to make creative solutions to the puzzles. The concept on its own is not unique; in fact, the game Superliminal did something very similar just a few years ago. The differentiating factor is how you acquire the objects you will use as tools. You are given a camera, and with it, you can take a picture of anything in the world, then use that perspective to frame the contents of that photo and place it back into the scene. I’m not sure that explanation made sense, which is why if you’re not following, I highly suggest you watch a trailer for the game before reading further.

Ultimately, the mechanic makes for a ton of situations that really break your brain as you try and grasp what you need to do. It felt like I was doing mental gymnastics in the best way. The levels are organized by these hub areas, and in each area, some terminals will send you into the puzzle rooms. When jumping into each new room, I felt this rush of excitement knowing that I would have to untangle my mind to be able to tackle the challenge before me. There was no getting comfortable because as the game progresses, so do the challenges. The mechanics slowly start to evolve. Not so much that they leave the player behind, but enough to continuously try to throw you slightly off your puzzle-solving rhythm.

The creative mechanics and expert puzzle designs culminate in what I would consider a near-perfect puzzle-solving experience for what they were going for. The puzzles are challenging, but not too hard. For many puzzles, there are nearly endless solutions because you are ultimately in control of how the world around you evolves. The challenges themselves are short, so you don’t often get frustrated or tired with one single problem. I can’t speak for everyone, because each player will solve puzzles at their own pace, but I felt like I was going through puzzles at a pretty fast pace, never getting stuck on any one challenge for more than a couple of minutes, and I was always eager to do “just one more puzzle”. I beat the game and all the bonus puzzles in just two sittings, but I could have easily gone for a couple more hours. If I had any complaint about the puzzles, it’s that there are too few.

The best compliment I can give this game is that it seems to nail all the things that I feel are needed for a great puzzle game. The challenge is there, sure, but there’s also this constant factor of intrigue and amazement. The rush of endorphins you get when you solve a tricky puzzle is also replicated when you discover a new way to use the mechanics for the first time. There were just as many “Oh that’s how you do that” moments as there were “Oh I didn’t know you could do it that way” moments, which made me feel like I was being ushered through a hall of curiosities that perpetually had my attention.

Great. Nearly three paragraphs of glowing praise for the puzzle system in a puzzle game. Case closed. This is a 10/10 game and maybe one of the best puzzle games of all time, right? Well…not exactly. I did really enjoy this game, but I also felt like, outside of the core gameplay mechanics, a lot was either missing or rather unremarkable. If this were a pop concert, the lead singer did their job, but the backups and stage effects all dropped the ball, which unfortunately affected the whole experience.

The accouterments in Viewfinder were severely lacking. The story, the characters, the music, pretty much everything. I mentioned Portal and The Witness at the top of this article. The fantastic thing about those games is that they go above and beyond. They have fantastic puzzles, but in many ways, the best moments are bigger moments built on top of the puzzles. For example, watching the story of Glados and Aperture Labs unfold in Portal or uncovering the secrets of the island in The Witness. They provide great gameplay, but then guide the player into something greater as the “Oh Wow” moment. Viewfinder certainly tries this, but the attempt falls very flat.

At the beginning of the game, they have a rather unexpected moment. I won’t spoil it, but it was something that made me perk up and get excited about what could be happening with the story of the game. It was an early sign that, although they were fun on their own, these puzzles were a means to a much bigger prize in the form of story and lore. Maybe thirty minutes after that moment, I soon realized, regardless of what the end of the game had waiting for me, I most likely wouldn’t care. As I started picking up the most generic sticky notes around the levels, a fear washed over me. The fear that this game was going to have some of the most bland characters and a generic story was spoon-fed to me the whole time.

It was a fear that quickly turned into a reality as I continued to pick up unimportant sticky notes with text that I could never see any person writing in real life. In addition to the written lore, I also repeatedly came upon the most scripted-sounding audio logs that I’ve heard in a minute. Everything felt plastic and artificial. Nothing I read or heard felt like it came from a believable world. While the puzzle gameplay was actively pulling me in, the terrible writing and story beats were continuously reminding me that this was just a random video game that I shouldn’t really be invested in.

The music didn’t do the game any favors either. While it wasn’t bad, it also wasn’t very exciting or memorable. The parts of the game that were responsible for immersing me were actively breaking me out of my immersion. It was this push and pull of me being excited to do more puzzles, but also me being completely uninterested in the in-game reason for doing them.

There was one saving grace: the visuals. I thought the art style was quite enjoyable for what the game was going for, and there were a lot of stylistic changes throughout the game that helped add to the world and the levels I was playing through. There were also filters that you got by doing bonus challenges that could change how the world looks, and although that’s typically something I don’t interact with in games, it was done well here, and it helped keep things fresh.

Now, some may think I’m wrong for criticizing a puzzle game for everything but the puzzles, but in the end, regardless of the genre, it is a complete experience I am reviewing. At the beginning of the game, Viewfinder pitches the player on two things: fun perspective puzzles and a story surrounding the people who built them. The puzzles were great, and in fact, they exceeded my expectations, but the story was actually the opposite. The more I interacted with the story, the less I became invested in the game. It took me out of the moment, and instead of ending as a memorable complete experience, it was more like I did a bunch of cool puzzles for some uninspired reason and will now go about my life, never to think about this full game again.

I would recommend Viewfinder to puzzle enthusiasts. I think the core gameplay stands up there with the most well-regarded puzzlers out right now. There were some fun and unique challenges, and the game didn’t overstay its welcome. But for folks expecting an exciting and full experience similar to some of the greats of the genre, maybe look elsewhere. The experience as a whole felt like a way to show off the cool perspective mechanics as opposed to a complete top-to-bottom experience. Nevertheless, I am happy I had the opportunity to play it, and I’m excited about how Sad Owl Studios takes their learnings into their next project.

I first saw Dave the Diver during the (not) E3 PR extravaganza earlier this Summer. It was one of the hundreds of trailers that were dropping during that time frame, and although I was being flooded with marketing from too many games to remember, when the dust settled, it still managed to stick in my mind. That’s because the trailer sold a promise of a game that looked like it had five or six different games within it. It would supposedly feature dozens of pixel art cutscenes, all portraying wildly different things from anime ladies to sea people. It was what seemed like a modern-day Wario Ware meets Yakuza meets Cult of the Lamb in a way, and although I figured this trailer might be doing some heavy lifting, I had to see what this game was all about for myself.

I was not prepared for what was next.

What I expected to be a fun little 8-10-hour indie game detour became an almost 30-hour indie game excursion. This game, which seemingly came out of nowhere, is now my current front-runner for best indie game of 2023. So, regardless of whether you continue to read the rest of this review or not, know this: I think for sim/management enjoyers, this game is a must-play. It’s exciting, mysterious, addictive, wacky, funny, and so much more. Even with MintRocket being bigger than your average indie team, it is an absolute achievement that this game got made and comes together the way it did. Please. Play this game.

To really dissect Dave the Diver properly, we need to start at the core. This is a game that starts with a solid foundation, which it then rapidly builds off of. At the root of Dave the Diver, we have simple 2D sim management and combat gameplay. At night, you operate a sushi bar. This means you set the menu, hire and train the staff, buy the decor, serve the food and drinks, clean up, and more. It is a rather comprehensive operation that you are given control of pretty early into the game, and this is only half of it. During the day, you go out on your boat and dive for fish to serve in that sushi bar. You use a Mission Impossible-esque suite of gadgets to kill or catch fish while managing your oxygen and weight, upgrading your weapons, fending off predators, and accomplishing side objectives.

Now that the previous paragraph was dense, but this is just a tiny fraction of what Dave the Diver comprises. I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to say that from start to finish, there was a new game mechanic or unexpected story twist every hour. Now, to some, this might sound like an instant turnoff, but I promise if you give it a chance, you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Actually, my biggest gripe with Dave the Diver is that it felt like it didn’t let me go as I could in the mini-games. There are a lot of icons and mechanics that show up and are simply not explained, which I believe are crucial to feeling like you’re playing optimally. It feels like the game is slowing me down or assuming I wouldn’t get invested as I did. But even without detailed instructions, you can feel that the game works tirelessly to ensure that every new surprise feels fresh and fun. Nothing felt phoned in. Sure, some drink-pouring mini-games were similar, but everything had its own challenge or visual flair. I was excited to do almost every activity they threw at me. It’s a feeling I had only ever experienced when I played Yakuza: Like a Dragon a few years back, but it’s a welcome one that I look forward to experiencing in more games in the future.

On top of that complex web of mini-games and mechanics is a charming suite of visual and tonal choices. Throughout your journey, you meet a huge cast of eccentric characters that all bring their own charm and humor to the story. Each character has such a detailed and memorable visual design coupled with a very defined personality that I was actively looking forward to interacting with them. The humor is just right, and I personally feel like it is written in a manner that strays away from cashing in on the latest memes and instead opts for a more timeless approach to the writing. The only thing I would have wanted more of was a more consistently banging soundtrack. A game’s soundtrack is usually doing a lot of the heavy lifting in terms of tone setting, but surprisingly, I think it was the writing taking up that role this time. There were definitely flashes of greatness during certain key moments in the game, but I thought the general OST was pretty forgettable.

In the end, Dave the Diver swung for the fences and hit it out of the park. The individual components of the game are great, but it’s how everything is presented to the player that makes it sing. It is a nonstop run of great jokes, surprising side missions, unexpected boss fights, and unique mini-games. I would happily bet anyone $100 to name 90% of the things you can do in this game, and I would sleep easily knowing my $100 was safe. It’s for that reason that I’m giving Dave the Diver a 9 out of 10, and recommending it to anyone who loves management sims or a medley of gameplay like something a Yakuza provides. Well done, MintRocket, you made a hit.

I think I need to make peace with the fact that Puzzlers are my favorite genre of video game. As much as I like cinematic, action-packed, platforming, or open-world games, at the end of the day, I just want to feel smart. I want there to be the equivalent of a murder mystery or escape room hidden within my gaming adventure so my fingers can get a break and my mind can do the heavy lifting. Luckily, there seems to be at least one puzzle game each year that goes above and beyond to remind me of my love of this underrated category, and The Case Golden Idol was the latest game to step up. It’s an extremely satisfying “whodunnit” style puzzle game that’s only flaw is its brevity.

The Case of the Golden Idol has a pretty simple premise: figure out what happened. You’re given the scene of a murder to comb through from top to bottom so that you can ultimately put together the clues and recount the events leading to tragedy. The controls you are equipped with are just as simple as the concept, as you’ll navigate through the crime scenes and click on any shining points of interest to gain information.

This may be one of my shortest reviews of all time because there’s not much to say. This game does one particular thing, and it does it very well. It curates several interesting scenarios that all build up this extremely captivating overarching story. Each mystery is packed with several challenges to solve, with the “fill-in-what-happened” problem being the main challenge for all of the scenes.

I cannot understate how these mysteries are saturated with so much detail and care for the player. Many of the puzzles seem incredibly daunting and overwhelming at first, but if you take your time, each one has just enough information to help you figure out what’s going on. There are subtle misdirections that keep you on your toes, and which will ultimately leave you feeling like a genius when you get back on the right trail. Some hints are explicitly given or omitted to influence later puzzles down the line. Nothing is as it originally seems, but by the end, it seems like the answer was right in front of you the whole time.

While the puzzles are the true meat of the game, the art style and music serve as a hook to get you in the door. The settings of each dastardly crime are eye-catching and filled to the brim with detail. Each scene looks like it’s capturing a significant historic event. On the other hand, I can’t be so kind to the characters. To put it bluntly: most of the characters in the game are ugly, but it’s a good ugly. It has a visual identity that immediately captures your eye, and weirdly poetically complements the narrative themes of the game. It’s the cherry on top of this package that makes it clear that this is a game with its own vision. A piece of work that excels at being both art and entertainment.

The one mark I would leave on the record of The Case of the Golden Idol is its length. The game features eleven puzzles in the base game, but they zoom by when you’re having fun. It’s not a case of me feeling like the game isn’t worth the money, it’s just a feeling of wanting so much more by the time I had hit credits.

Luckily, this has already been somewhat resolved with the recent release of their DLC, The Spider of Lanka. Much like the base game, the DLC mirrors both the pros and cons of the base game in every way. It is an interesting and unique set of stories and challenges that ends far too early. That being said, as a full package, I think the DLC shoots the stock price of this franchise way up. The more they can build upon the lore of this dark and comedic world, the better, and I hope they continue to do so for at least one more round of content.

I highly recommend The Case of the Golden Idol and its DLC, The Spider of Lanka, not only to die-hard puzzle fans but to anyone looking for fun for several hours and a few brain teasers. It quickly sets itself apart in the sea of indie games and lingers well after you have finished it. My only wish is that the game explored its own lore just a bit longe,r as I feel it pulls you out as it feels like things are just getting started.

It seems like every year there is at least one new game that blows me away. Keep in mind, this is not easy to do. I’ve played hundreds of games in my life, which means I’ve seen hundreds of gameplay mechanics, hundreds of plot lines, and hundreds of takes on the same few genres. Even so, there still seems to be at least one developer each year who comes out and surprises me for the better.

• God of War, Spiderman, and Celeste were those games for me in 2018

• Sekiro and The Outer Worlds were those games for me in 2019

• The Last of Part II, Hades, and Final Fantasy 7 Remake were those games for me in 2020

• It Takes Two and Psychonauts 2 were those games for me in 2021

• Elden Ring and Tunic were those games for me in 2022

The games that I just listed all caught me off guard and exceeded my expectations. So much so that I’d consider all of them some of my favorite games of all time. I will look back at this list as a representation of the best of the best in gaming across the board, and a level of quality and creativity all developers should strive for in the future…except there’s one thing wrong with that list.

I didn’t realize until a few weeks ago, but I made a glaring omission. I had left off one of the best indie games…Dare I say…of all time, Chained Echoes. Chained Echoes is a game I tried on a whim. I saw a few people in my small gaming circle hyping it up on Twitter, it got good Metacritic reviews, and it was on Game Pass. It was the perfect storm for me to give this game a college try, and it was one of the best gaming decisions I have ever made.

This four-paragraph intro is here to drive home the fact that Chained Echoes, a game I almost skipped entirely, turned out to be one of the best indie games I’ve ever played, and quite possibly the best turn-based RPG I’ve played period. It takes decades of learning from classic RPGs and fixes almost every issue without fail. It does not comprise any single aspect of the game, and they are all treated with love and attention equally. And to make the story wilder, it was primarily developed by one person. For those who are fans of classic franchises like Golden Sun, Chrono Trigger, and Final Fantasy, hear me clearly: This is a must-play.

I know this article will be long, and that’s why I tried to craft the most convincing intro possible, but going forward, I will break down how Chained Echoes was able to deliver what I see as a masterpiece of a turn-based RPG experience.

When it comes to RPGs, it all begins with the story. What is the lore or the premise that will entice me to spend my next 20+ hours in the world? Is the story interesting enough to keep my attention all the way through? At first glance, I saw Chained Echoes as a pretty run-of-the-mill fantasy-medieval story. It’s set in a land where kingdoms have been warring for ages, and you follow characters that are smack dab in the middle of the conflict. It features a series of different fictional races, magic users, and what seemed like hundreds of made-up words meant to sell the idea that this is indeed a mythical place with a rich history. Cool. I’m not mad at i,t but I’m also not in love with it.

The hook, in the beginning, was the writing. Sure, I’ve been in this world a million times, whether it be in Game of Thrones or The Witcher, but there was a unique tone this time. The dialogue was delivered in one of my favorite flavors. The random NPCs would have funny or interesting tidbits to share instead of giving me a completely vanilla and useless line of text that I didn’t care about. The main characters spoke like real people who had real investments in whatever was going on at that moment. The “cutscenes” did a great job of visualizing all of the important moments instead of requiring me to fill them in on my own. Best of all, after I had spent 30 minutes completing the prologue, there was a cliffhanger that hooked me.

The game, in just 30 minutes, had given me the ultimate pitch on Chained Echoes. It showed how interesting the individual characters could be, it set the stakes for our main heroes, it showed off exciting set pieces, it demonstrated the different types of combat, and it gave me a reason to care about the story early. Flawless victory. The bar was set pretty high at the beginning of the game, but unbeknownst to me, the bar would get pushed higher and higher with each additional hour. The game is jam-packed with twists and turns, the characters all go through their own personal journeys, and the townsfolk you meet along the way can be both funny and tragic. By the end, you will feel you’ve witnessed multiple seasons of a TV show in the span of 30 or so hours. Even with such a grand and complex story, I felt like any question or doubt I had while processing information was always answered as if the game was reading my mind. And just to be clear, although it may seem like it, this is not a children’s story. There are really deep and dark plot points. If I had to compare it to something, I would say that it gave flashes of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, which I consider one of the greatest animes of all time. I could drone on and on about how captivated I was by the world of Valandis and the centuries of history that shrouded it, but then we would be here forever. Just know you’re in for a fun ride from start to finish.

The story is great and all, but you might be saying, “This is a game, I can’t PLAY a story, how is the gameplay?” And to you I would say, first of all, relax, and second of all, the gameplay is magnificent. As I said at the top, Chained Echoes takes decades of learning from past RPGs and packs it into one game. First off, there’s no grinding; it’s basically impossible to grind. You make your characters strong by upgrading their weapons and equipment and unlocking and leveling up their special abilities. You can level up special abilities with what is equivalent to experience points, but the catch is that you get a minuscule amount from beating enemies. Most upgrade points will come from unlocking bonuses via world exploration and completing side quests. This mechanic was ingenious. It’s an easy way to reward for experiencing the content in the game. Sure, every piece of side content doesn’t result in a legendary weapon, but no matter what you do, there is almost always some sort of bonus that you’re working towards.

Some other great things it does are:

• Heal your party after every single encounter

• Let you run and regroup from every non-boss encounter without penalty

• Allow you to easily sell any and all loot

• Let you link a character to every starting party member that you can freely swap out during battle

• Mark every available side quest (usually only a few at any given point) on the map

• Allow for fast travel and inevitably lightning-fast “mount” travel that allows you to cover tons of area in seconds.

That’s just the tip of the iceberg. Almost every frustration of the typical RPG was removed. There were a few features that I felt were inconsequential like the crystal enhancement system and the intricacies of weapon upgrades, but I had essentially no complaints about the core gameplay loop. There wasn’t anything in this game that got in my way or slowed my progress down.

The combat itself felt more like a puzzle than a grind. New enemies were getting introduced the entire way through, and each one had a particular combat strategy that I needed to observe and counter. Most of the time, I found it wasn’t a matter of just overpowering the enemy, but rather using your team as efficiently as possible, given the enemy’s actions. You will cycle through status effects, buffs, debuffs, and straight damage to bring down tough foes. During this, you will be doing a calculated tango with an overdrive bar that dictates the amount of damage you dish out and receive. If you lose focus, you’ll spiral into a point of no recovery where your bar has gone deep in the red and your enemy is doing massive damage to you on every turn. On the opposite end, if you can safely manage the bar, many fights are just easy enough that you may want to bump the difficulty. I found normal to be perfect for me. Several boss fights were tough enough that I had to try multiple times, but it was never at a point where I felt like I was wasting time or getting frustrated with the game.

To dive a little deeper, this game features two combat systems. One is your traditional on-foot battle with your party members and your overdrive bar, and one is with versatile mechs called sky armor that require you to switch up your combat strategy. In this mode, you will still have to manage the overdrive bar, but you will also have to manage your gears because, apparently, these mechs are stick-shifts. While intimidating at first, the system is fairly simple to get comfortable with.

The bosses were the ultimate culmination of this design. Every boss encounter felt like I was in a game of chess. I needed to finish the fight as quickly as possible without overextending any of my party members and spiraling out of control. It was a refreshing feeling to know that every fight was possible to win with the right planning, without having to worry about whether I was under-leveled.

Outside of combat, there are still dozens of things to keep you stimulated. Hidden treasure, secret caves, secret boss fights, secret map locations, and rare chests are just a few an examples. All of these things come together to deliver an experience that feels like there’s no fat to it. There is no wasted time. Every fight feels necessary (if not, then you usually can run around them), every corner you explore has a secret to uncover, and every person you talk to has something funny or informative to say.

I’ve waxed poetic about this game for much longer than necessary, and I’m positive anyone who's reading this review gets the point. I loved this game, but I won’t wrap without talking about the art of Chained Echoes. Just like everything else, the visuals and music hit a bar that quite frankly nobody was asking it hit. They didn’t need to go this hard. Much of the game leaves nothing to the imagination. Every character, crucial to side quests or the main stor,y has their own custom artwork for dialogue that really sticks in your head as you see them evolve throughout the story. Every area has its own identity that not only helps with general navigation but also with making the world of Valandis feel diverse and vast. And within each area, there’s a swathe of uniquely designed enemies waiting to remind you of the challenges you fought through in that location.

Bringing everything together is a truly fantastic original soundtrack done by Eddie Marianukrok. Countless tracks will feel both nostalgic and classic by the end of your time with the game. There is a song for every situation. Levity, drama, action, shock, sadness, fear, and so much more can be conveyed at the drop of a hat, and regardless of the situation, the accompanying track hits hard.

Look, I’m going to beat a dead horse. This game is amazing. As I was starting this game for the first time, I had never once considered this could be one of my favorite indie games of all time, but here we are. As I have overstated, it excels in pretty much every category I can think of when judging if something is a good game. I’ll admit, it may not be for everyone. Some people might not like turn-based RPGs. Some people might not like medieval fantasy stories. Some people might not like games with a pixelated art style. Even with those beliefs, I think, given a fair shot, this game could still convert a fraction of those people. This game is a 10 in my book. It’s not perfect, but in the context of its genre, I think it’s nearly there. I would be extremely excited to play a modern turn-based RPG that is more streamlined and interesting than Chained Echoes, and at this moment, I’m not sure there is one.

Every now and again, a game comes out of nowhere and just mesmerizes me. I’m not talking about games that I have anticipated for years, or the sequels to my favorite franchises; I mean literally coming out of nowhere. Dredge is that game. I knew about Dredge, but I guess I didn’t know about Dredge. Once I booted it up, I started putting in hours like it was my part-time job. This game is both relaxing and exciting in all the best ways. It taps into my completionist tendencies almost like the developers were targeting me personally. Its biggest flaw is that the credits roll too early. So let’s set sail into a discussion about how Black Salt Games put out one of the best indie games of the year.

The starting point for this discussion is easy because under all the polish and pizzazz there is a really solid foundation. The core gameplay loop is unassuming but powerful. The gist of the game is that you’re a fisherman who washes up on a small island town. You’re given a boat upfront, and to pay off the cost you need to take the boat out on the water, collect fish, organize the said fish to maximize your haul, and sell them for profit. You can then use the remaining profit to upgrade your fish to become more proficient at your day job. Overall, it’s a pretty easy challenge, but the main blocker in your way is time. If you are caught out on the water at night, you can risk losing everything to numerous unsettling (I’ll elaborate on that adjective later) hazards.

The controls are fairly straightforward. You drive around your ship and park it when you find an indicator that there’s some fish you want to catch, and then you’ll play a little mini-game that changes depending on what you’re catching to reel in your prize. My only complaint about the controls is that the boat sometimes feels a little too floaty, which I guess makes sense because it’s a boat, but early on even the slightest tap on a rock can send half your hall back to where it came, which is a little annoying when you’re trying to navigate some tight fishing spots in some specific areas of the game. Luckily, you can upgrade everything, from your engines to your lights, to ultimately turn your ship into an impenetrable sea beast by the end of your adventure.

That’s it. That’s the core loop. You spend your time searching for rare fish, upgrading your ship, and conversing with strangers you meet along the way. Feedback is quick. It doesn’t take long to catch a fish. It doesn’t take long to pay off your boat. It doesn’t take long to start upgrading your ship. The carrot on the stick is easy to grab, but there always seems to be another, bigger carrot added to the stick right after you finish with the previous one. It’s that same feeling of “just one more” that multiplayer and roguelikes evoke, except this is a single-player sim. I hate to spoil the ending to this review, but that’s a big part of why Dredge is so great. It doesn’t put up annoying artificial barriers; instead, it constantly makes you believe there is something more exciting than the thing you just did, and it’s not a bluff, it’s the truth.

The base gameplay is good, but it’s not great enough to singlehandedly convince me to invest the twenty-plus hours that I did into this game. That’s where all of the, let’s call it, “video game icing” comes in. This game is wrapped in an incredibly interesting story and setting. It turns out that the location you find yourself in has weird things going on. The fish aren’t all normal, many of the townspeople recount unsettling stories, and there’s something very dangerous lurking in the fog of night. And in the blink of an eye, a casual fishing game is transformed into a nautical Lovecraftian adventure.

Every interaction in the game has an air of eeriness around it. Each location has something that’s not quite right about it, and almost all of the NPCs you come across feel like their hiding something. This means that very early o,n you learn to approach things with caution, many times because of the fear of the unknown, and sometimes because of the fear of what you have already learned. It adds an extra layer of meaning to the experience. You always feel the pressure of outrunning the night and preventing your character from going mad. If you do succumb to the madness, your eyes start playing tricks on you. You see rocks appear out of thin air, you hear whispers, and you have lots and lots of eyes staring at you. If it sounds bad, it’s because it is, but at the same time, there is a slight attraction to the horrors of the world, and one major question: what is the sea hiding?

As I slowly learned the dozens of answers to that question, that’s when I realized this game was something special. Dredge throws surprise after surprise at you. Whether it’s a new fish mutation, one of the many unique side quests, or the living horrors that you encounter as you travel to new locations, there is never a dull moment. That is, unless you want a dull moment. In this case, you can manage your time properly, only fish during the day, and earn an honest wage without progressing the story. I definitely spent some time listening to podcasts and repeatedly fishing as a way to relax, but ultimatel,y duty calls, and you’ll inevitably have to venture back into the unknown if you want to see the end of this story.

Speaking of the end of the story, my only real complaint is that it came a little too early. To be clear, this is not a “too short, not worth the money” type of complaint. I put dozens of hours into this game, but still, it felt like it went by fast. The game doesn’t have many blockers to stop your main form of progression, which is upgrading your ship. About halfway through the game, as I did my casual fishing, I was pretty far into maxing out my ship. This means that one of the most interesting core mechanics has been exhausted. While it’s not the biggest deal, I do wish almost every system were expanded a bit. I would have liked more ship upgrades, more fish species, and more side quests. The loop was just so engaging that I felt like I hadn’t had my fill of the world when I finished. That being said, this game is quite content-rich for an indie game, and I was blown away at the amount of mechanics and side content available in what I originally expected to be a pretty simple fishing game.

Dredge is marketed as a fun and mysterious fishing sim, and it does so much more. It has an incredibly interesting world to explore. It has a really satisfying core gameplay loop. It has tons of surprises and change-ups to always keep you on your toes, and it ended up leaving me begging for more content. I think that pretty much everyone willing to give this game a chance could find some enjoyment in it. Dredge is an incredibly polished and unassuming title that absolutely caught me off guard. It’s hard for me to think of any major flaws, and for that, I’m giving it a 9. Black Salt Games put themselves together a hit, and I can’t wait to see what they do next

It’s been a few weeks since I returned from my trip to Boston to attend PAX East, and I feel like this is a perfect time to come out of writing retirement. With PAX East and the recent news about the death of E3, I’ve thought a lot about the future of video game conventions and expos, and I have mixed feelings. In the words of modern poet Meek Mill, “There’s level to this sh*t”. It brings me joy to say that I believe the fan-focused events like the PAXes of the world are slowly rising from the ashes, but it is still to be seen if they can reach the highs of the pre-COVID events.

This was my first time in Boston, and although most of my time was spent doing things completely unrelated to the city, it was a great time nonetheless. For those that don’t know what a PAX is like, it’s a 4-day event where mostly independent and AA publishers and developers all set up hundreds of TVs, monitors, and gaming hardware to show off their latest projects. Lines are typically long (Avoid going on Saturday if you can), but if you manage your time right, you can end up playing dozens of fantastic unreleased titles of various quality. There are also panels all weekend long hosted by gaming personalities about insight or entertaining topics.

For the past couple of years, PAX has been a shell of its former self. Obviously, COVID took a huge toll on the industry, and as a result many teams just haven’t had a game worth showing. Not to mention that we’re in somewhat of a financial crisis in the U.S., so spending loads of cash to erect this fanciful booth for your games isn’t exactly the wisest decision. As a result, the show floor was essentially a ghost town the past couple of years, but it seems things are slowly coming back to life. I went to PAX West 2022, and it’s really refreshing to see that not even half a year later, a new slate of companies has cropped up to show their new projects.

Even with the recovery we’re seeing now, we’re nowhere near pre-COVID PAX experiences of the past. In the before times, PlayStation would regularly have a huge showing, with exclusive merch and early builds of premier titles like Spiderman. Epic Games literally transformed the entire floor of a convention center building into Fortnite mini-golf. On any given day, you could run into industry heavyweights like Reggie Fils Aime, Cory Balrog, or Shuhei Yoshida. Those times were legendary, and I really hope they return, because they really made things feel larger than lif,e and it felt like something almost anyone could enjoy, regardless of how big a gamer you were.

Now it is more of an event for the video game enthusiast. There wasn’t much pomp and circumstance, but my time at PAX East this year was extremely fulfilling. I was able to connect with creators and developers that I really appreciate and respect. I was able to put new games on my radar and add a few dev teams to my list of people to cheer for. To me, it was a fantastic opportunity to immerse myself in the roots of the industry I love so much. That being said, I do hope PAX returns to a state where ALL developers and publishers can use it to connect with fans, not just the smaller ones. Understandably, with COVID, we lost that connection with the Xbox, PlayStation, and Nintendo of the industry.

It’s hard to read the pulse of things. If you’d ask me, PlayStation, just like its stance on E3, has abandoned the idea of having to connect with its fans in a physical space. It seems like they are focusing on Apple-like, polished presentations of their games, hardware, and services. They show things when they’re ready; they don’t need to hype people up with early hands-on. People will play it when they purchase the game in the comfort of their own homes. Now I could be totally wrong, and I hope I am, because I’ve always wanted to attend a PSX, but they have had a very sterile physical brand come from the success of the PS4 and PS5, and there’s no indication they’re reversing on that anytime soon.

Xbox actually seems like one big publisher that eagerly wants to connect with fans, and yet, they, too, have been awfully quiet on the prospect of true fan events. They’ve done some in-person screenings of their pre-recorded June showcases, but let’s be honest, that’s lame as hell compared to what they could be doing. Problem is, and I promise I’m not saying this in a console fanboy way because I love Xbox, but what is there to celebrate and gather about? We’re still waiting on several projects, and this new age for the green giant is still approaching. Now granted, it seems like by the end of this year things could finally be in motion, but it seems like their specialty is graceful delays ,so we’ll see.

To Nintendo’s credit, they still have had a presence at PAX. They had a Tears of the Kingdom statue front and center at PAX East, and they regularly have playable demos (of games that released years ag,o like Mario Kart 8?). To be honest, Nintendo can keep doing Nintendo, but I just need some info about what the next few years are looking like from them because my Switch is on its last legs.

In the end, I just want there to be events that serve as a reminder for everyone as to why they fell in love with video games. I could go to PAX as is for the next several years and have a great time, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t feel like something was missing. There’s a magic about seeing the brands you’ve grown up with set up incredible homages to franchises you love; there’s an excitement about running into your favorite voice actor or game director. I hope we can figure out how to capture that magic again. If we must, I’m down for the return of specialized fan events like PSX or XO, but ideally, I would like everyone to come under one roof and serve as a place people from all around can gather and celebrate gaming as a whole.

Until we get there, let’s celebrate those that already participating in those events. I made a video highlighting a few of my favorite games I saw at PAX East. Check it out below.

P.S. - E3 is a whole other can of worms that I was planning to talk about, but this post started getting long. Stay tuned.