"Fighting is everything" is a phrase protagonist Miyamoto Musashi uses to explain his ethos, but it's an ideology that doubles as an accurate description of Onimusha: Way of the Sword, too. After a disappointing 20-year hiatus, Capcom's samurai series returns in fine form, ditching the fixed camera angles and pre-rendered backgrounds of its forebears for a modern reinvention where combat is king. The fifth mainline entry in the series still maintains key aspects of Onimusha's distinct identity, mixing Japanese history and mythology with the studio's penchant for inventive creature design, but infuses these aspects with layered melee skirmishes shaped by the past 20 years of action games. The shift to a semi-open-world structure is a stumbling block, but Way of the Sword still marks an excellent return for the long-dormant series by evolving its swordplay with captivating aplomb. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbikE6l6nU0 Musashi himself is, of course, known for his combat prowess: a legendary samurai from Japanese history who's widely regarded as the greatest swordsman who ever lived. Much like previous protagonist Samanosuke Akechi–who's loosely based on the Sengoku period's Akechi Hidemitsu–Capcom was influenced by the fables, legends, and real stories of Musashi when creating the character. While he's only in his early 20s in Way of the Sword, the cockiness, confidence, and swagger of someone who would eventually go undefeated in 62 sword duels is immediately apparent. There's a Harrison Ford-esque roguishness about him that's easy to fall in love with, and this is aided immensely by not just Yoshimasa Hosoya's voice performance–I played the Japanese-language version–but also the game's excellent facial-capture animation. Every subtle raise of an eyebrow, smirk of the mouth, and clench of the jaw is evident and lends Masashi a ton of character even when he's not speaking. It also helps that he's modeled after the late, great Japanese actor Toshiro Mifune, best known for his collaborations with Akira Kurosawa on films such as Seven Samurai and Yojimbo, and who also played Musashi in Hiroshi Inagaki's Samurai trilogy. Onimusha has a long history of using the likenesses of real actors, including Yusaku Matsuda and Jean Reno, but the leap in quality over the past 20 years is undeniable in Way of the Sword. I'm not overly familiar with Mifune's earlier work, yet his mannerisms shine through both in cutscenes and gameplay, from his wide-eyed intensity to the way he shrugs his shoulders and scratches the back of his neck. At the beginning of the game, Musashi arrives in Edo-era Kyoto, looking to prove himself as a warrior without equal. After defeating a clan leader in a fierce duel, he's set upon by an invading force of demonic Genma and is only able to fight back after being granted an Oni gauntlet by a mysterious figure. Unlike previous protagonists such as Samanosuke and Jubei Yagyu, who wanted to use their Oni powers to save the world, Musashi wants to rid himself of the gauntlet. The way of the sword is traversed on one's own strength, so Musashi feels having these powers at his disposal is essentially cheating and doesn't represent his true skill as a swordsman. Watching Musashi navigate this stance while newfound allies are relying on him to save Kyoto is one of the more compelling aspects of the game's narrative. Musashi has his own ethos, but he's also not the kind of samurai who adheres to a strict bushido code. When it's a matter of life or death, he'll break the rules, which feels very human and fits his rogueish attitude. The rest of the story is fairly straightforward, with some comically evil villains adding entertainment value and impetus to the game's many battles. It's standard popcorn fare–not quite as corny as Resident Evil, and there are some killer lines, but it's not something you'll remember for long outside of some of its performances. There are some pacing issues early on, too. Control is frequently wrestled away from you during the first couple of hours as you're dragged from one exposition-heavy cutscene to the next. It's not a great first impression but does eventually relent, settling into a decent groove with conflict at the forefront. Any action game worth its salt lives and dies on how good its combat feels, and in this regard, Way of the Sword positively thrives. It's not a combo-laden action game like Devil May Cry or Ninja Gaiden, nor is it as punishing and methodical as the many souls-likes that have emerged since Onimusha last appeared. Instead, it falls somewhere in the middle. You've got your standard light and heavy attacks, and transitioning between them to create various combos is seamless and feels suitably hefty. Musashi moves like a regular person–you can clearly see him swinging his katana like he has to put some muscle behind each strike–and this makes his swordplay very deliberate, emphasizing defense as the ultimate key to unlocking your full offensive arsenal. 
You can block and parry almost any attack, with the latter opening up your opponents for swift retribution. You can also deflect attacks, which doesn't create the same opportunity to counter but does take a decent chunk out of the enemy's stamina meter. Once this is fully depleted, your foes enter an exhausted state where you're able to deal significant damage–even slowing down time so you can select a specific body part to target during boss fights, such as a pesky tail that you can slice off to prevent certain attacks, or a limb that grants a confluence of souls for you to absorb. You can dodge attacks, too, performing a stylish Reflex Dodge if you evade an unarmed enemy strike at just the right time. This is also the only way to reverse grab attacks, just as deflecting is the only way to counter unavoidable attacks. Way of the Sword's combat is built around reading and reacting to the enemy's various tells and then responding in devastating fashion. Button mashing is quickly punished, but once you've got a handle on its slower cadence, there are stylish thrills to be had in each and every battle. If you're feeling particularly brave, you can even utilize an Onimusha mainstay: the Issen attack. By striking just before an enemy attack lands, you'll hit back with a deadly counter that instantly kills most regular enemies. The timing on this is much more precise than either parries, deflects, or Reflex Dodges, but the reward is much greater, especially once you've unlocked the ability to chain multiple Issen attacks in a row by rhythmically timing your button presses. All of this feels incredibly satisfying in action, mixing nuanced depth with some of the best animation work in the genre. As someone who loves parries, Way of the Sword executes them like no other game I can recall. Rather than enemy attacks simply bouncing off Musashi's katana, you lock weapons with a palpable heft, sending a barrage of sparks flying as they slide against each other before Musashi uses the enemy's momentum to reposition them. It's very much coded in classic samurai cinema, producing these dramatic sword clashes within the flow of combat. Chaining together parries and deflects also builds a meter that activates Blazing State, coating Musashi's katana in a blue flame that boosts your attack power and causes enemies to drop more souls when they die, such as yellow ones that replenish your health and blue ones that power your Oni Armaments. While the younger Musashi hasn't yet created the Niten Ichi-ryu style of dual-wielding he's famous for, his familiarity with multiple weapon types is well realized. You gradually gain access to more Oni Armaments throughout the course of the game, letting you unleash temporary attacks with a varied pool of weapons. The Two Celestials , for instance, are a pair of blades that deal straight damage and extract yellow souls from the Genma, while the Wind-Whipper is a naginata that conjures whirlwinds to wipe out groups of enemies. Elsewhere, the Earth-Shaker hammers excel at inflicting significant stamina damage, and the Firebird Flute summons flaming birds when played, allowing you to launch them at enemies. Choosing which Oni Armament to utilize for each situation becomes a key part of your approach to combat, although Musashi isn't opposed to using unconventional means either. Tables can be flipped and deployed as large shields before being booted at enemies, food carts can be rammed into startled mobs, and you can parry Genma into standing torches, setting them on fire in the process. Unfortunately, the sheer excellence of Way of the Sword's combat is also the only thing keeping the game afloat when mired in its disappointing structure. Eastern Kyoto is established early as a semi-open-world hub, and while there are traditional levels, a large chunk of the game takes place within this open area. You'll find side quests, collectibles, and upgrade materials, and while the map starts small and gradually opens up, it's never particularly large. This works in the game's favor, however, as the side quests therein are dull and uninspired. A subset of optional missions called "Mysteries of Kyoto" has you helping citizens and relaying their stories to Murasaki Shikibu, the historical author of The Tale of Genji. These yarns are rooted in Japanese mythology, covering the likes of the Three Worms, the Faceless, and the Night Parade, but calling them mysteries is a glaring misnomer. The culprit is always just another Genma you need to kill, and the same rings true in the rest of the game's side quests as well. Someone asks for your help, so you head to a location and dispatch every enemy you can find. The worst of these is a series of archery quests where you return to previous locations to shoot down specific Genma using your bow. You're rewarded with upgrade materials for completing these quests, so skipping them puts you at a huge disadvantage. The one saving grace is that there aren't many side quests, and engaging in more combat isn't inherently bad, but Way of the Sword's optional excursions are still incredibly formulaic and make the entire hub feel superfluous. The game's traditional levels are much better, often evoking a specific mood or atmosphere. One sees you venture into an underground lab where a particularly twisted Genma is conducting experiments, fusing humans, animals, and her own kind together to create unsettling monstrosities. Here, Capcom leans into its horror tendencies, casting shadows across the lab's shoji to highlight the mutations happening just out of sight, while kimonos hang from the rafters as evidence of the people who were kidnapped and brought to this malevolent place. It's an eerie and atmospheric location to explore. 
Elsewhere, you'll make the gradual trek up the slopes of Mount Oe during twilight, fighting through smaller forts and dodging giant, rolling logs to reach the palatial castle nestled at the top. If the whole game was just more levels like these, I would have very few complaints. Way of the Sword's combat is exceptional, and it features some of the best boss fights I've ever seen, but there's always this nagging feeling that it could've been even better. It feels odd to be disappointed by a game with so many moments I absolutely adore, but that's what happens when the potential to be greater is so obvious. The uninspired semi-open-world is a misstep that doesn't justify its existence, yet Way of the Sword is still a fantastic and welcome return for the series, led by outstanding combat that firmly places it in the upper echelon of modern action games. Fighting is everything, after all, and there's nothing else quite like Musashi's brand of calculated violence...
Very few of the many stories you'll encounter in The Blood of Dawnwalker end happily. It seems foolish to expect anything else from a dark, medieval action-RPG about a secluded valley ruled over by vampires who demand blood and subservience from its human populace. While hoping for anyone to get out unscathed is perhaps naive, it's impressive that developer Rebel Wolves manages to give just about every story enough depth and nuance to keep all that death and tragedy compelling all the way through. Dawnwalker is composed of what feels like a ridiculous number of quests. Due to its structure, they seem haphazardly constructed at first, with no dedicated throughline; only a story you construct by taking on whatever tasks you think are worth your limited time. What's shocking is that these quests, from the intricate stories of rebels fighting to free the valley and vampires following shadowy agendas, to the momentary tidbits of setup from a group of soldiers by the side of the road before you start hacking them apart with your sword, are so well-written. To the game's credit, there's a good chance you'll want to do everything in Dawnwalker. The fact that you can't is part of what makes it so compelling. https://youtu.be/947maH4t22E Dawnwalker's story is built on a ticking clock, and that feature is among the game's best ideas. You play as Coen, a human who loses his family to Brencis, the valley's vampire sovereign. Coen quickly comes to realize that Brencis is set to host a feast in 30 in-game days, so you have that long to make preparations and storm the castle to free the captured humans, doing whatever you can to strengthen yourself, gather allies, and figure out a plan before time runs out. Time advances when you take on or complete quests and activities. Each of these takes an allotted amount of time, so you're always weighing whether you want to dedicate time to one quest over another. Dilly dallying with other activities while a quest is active can change the situation or even cause it to end in failure, so stacking up 50 things to do is a bad idea. While you have enough time on your hands that you're not forced to consider every single hour you spend along the way, the sense that the clock is against you gives everything you do in Dawnwalker the feeling of weight and importance. It also might make you think twice about stopping to lend a hand to a minor character you meet, or choosing a merciful but time-consuming option over a more expedient but harmful one. Time also dictates the way that you address quests. At the end of the tutorial section, Coen is forcibly turned into a vampire, but thanks to this world's supernatural rules, he unexpectedly becomes a Dawnwalker--he transforms into a vampire when night falls but reverts to a human under the sun. During the day, the human Coen can do things like interact with shopkeepers or make his way into occupied settlements, looking like any other person; if he gets into a fight with Brencis's soldiers, he does it with a sword. At night, Coen is more deadly in a fight, but often more noticeable, and enemies tend to attack on sight. An area might be public during the day and off limits at night, so when you decide to solve a problem can change how you do so. And of course, some events only take place during the day, while others only happen at night. 
The smartest way time is deployed against you is in Dawnwalker's progression system. Leveling happens passively as you gain experience points for completing quests and defeating enemies, kicking up your overall stats, but to unlock new abilities in combat or enhance elements like your life total and stamina bar, you need to do more. To add skills for the human Coen, you'll need to find and read books and manuals; for the vampire Coen, your skills unlock as you consume the blood of humans, animals, and other vampires. And unlocking perks costs points you'll earn from leveling, as well as time. This means that making yourself stronger forces tradeoffs. Do you want to power yourself up at the risk of failing or delaying a quest? I found that I was always sitting on perk points in Dawnwalker, waiting for when I was sure they wouldn't cost me key opportunities. As a result, sometimes I undertook quests without maximizing my capabilities. That push and pull makes leveling up a deliberate and important decision about how it might impact Coen's overall goal. Where this leveling system falls down is in what it actually offers. Coen has three different skill trees from which you can purchase perks, each keyed to a different part of his character. Coen's a gifted swordsman and can use his claws as a vampire, while he gets access to witchcraft powers when he's human. 
The system presents you with a lot of options, many of which can be upgraded several times, and it feels purposely designed to create choice paralysis. Since you probably aren't investing in everything due to the time it'll cost, you're forced to think about what upgrades are going to matter most to you, and whether you're leaning too hard on one set of perks over the others, which might leave you vulnerable during certain times of day. The trouble is that the trees are filled with upgrades that don't always feel meaningful. Part of the weakness is that abilities are equipped into slots in your menu, and in order to equip more of them, you have to also unlock new slots by spending perk points and time. The limitation can incentivize you to equip a couple of active and passive abilities and never change them, effectively making the ones you don't equip dead spots on the tree. And since, for most abilities, you need to first find books to unlock them, you might be barred from a perk forever, or long enough that it doesn't matter enough to pursue it. Requiring so much thought about how you build Coen makes it easy to disregard a lot of your options, not out of purposefully constructing a character, but because of the quests you might choose arbitrarily throughout the game. I never did much with his witchcraft abilities, for instance, since they required me to spend health it often felt like Human Coen couldn't spare, and because their books weren't as easily available. I spent perk points on witchcraft abilities I never actually used much, and in the end wound up ignoring a lot of that skill tree in favor of the more practical sword skills. 
And while you'll unlock some fun combat abilities, the fact that you might only use a couple of them for huge swathes of the game weakens Dawnwalker somewhat, because you'll be doing a ton of fighting. Brencis's soldiers dominate the valley, and while you'll talk your way through a lot of situations, combat is the main thrust of Dawnwalker's gameplay, so the rhythm of using the same few abilities can get stale. Dawnwalker's combat is pretty good nevertheless, bolstered by its focus on being directional. Coen swings his attacks in a particular direction, depending on where you hold the left analog stick, and the idea is that you want to beat an enemy's guard by swinging to avoid their blocks. In practice, directional swings are more haphazard and tough to use well, but also don't really matter. Where the directional combat really shines is in your defense--if you push the analog stick in the direction your opponent is swinging from and hit the block button at the right time, you can parry their blow and counterattack. How you fight is dictated by a stamina meter, and you use stamina for attacks, dodges, and Coen's "omniblock," which deflects any incoming blow. Blocking directionally, however, uses no stamina and actually kicks off its recovery, so in order to keep up the speed of a fight you need to be executing skillful blocks, lest you run out of stamina and get overwhelmed. Enemies often come at Coen in groups, too, so you have to watch out for people coming from the sides, who you can deflect away and hit briefly before returning to your main target. 
It's a great system that gives fights the rhythm of a duel, with the back-and-forth between you and your opponent requiring quick reactions on your part, and all happening fast enough that you're rarely waiting for an attack to parry. With multiple enemies, you have to pay close attention, and I genuinely felt like a world-class swordsman as I turned away opponent after opponent. Trading blows and parries builds up "activation points" that can be spent on special abilities like stunning enemies or hitting several at a time. And even though you'll play through hundreds of battles, the focus on quick reactions and executing on openings keeps them exciting, even when you're facing groups of soldiers who have been fighting more or less the same way for 40 hours. What irritations derive from combat come from the fact that you do so much of it, and how it feels is mostly dictated by the kinds of enemies coming for you. The directional combat approach is engaging, but it also means that fighting as Human Coen and Vampire Coen are very similar in function, despite their differences. As a vampire, Coen can fight with his claws, but they deflect blows from soldiers and monsters the same way a sword does. The major differences come from which special abilities you can use, which are often unblockable or interrupt enemy attacks. That fact can downgrade their use from being a tactical deployment at a key moment, to something you hit as soon as an activation point pops up and a move's cooldown runs out. Even though the human and vampire are intended to feel different, one more calculated and the other more aggressive, they wind up playing more or less the same way, especially over a long time. Another big difference in the two sides of combat comes from how you manage health. Vampire Coen has a bunch of perks that increase his survivability. You start with an ability that lets you briefly chomp on an enemy's neck to suck some of their blood and restore your health, which is a huge boon in the early game. The vampire side also has some extremely powerful perks like passive health regeneration, as well as ones that give health back when you parry and when you attack with your claws. You also get bonuses from weapons and armor that passively boost a bunch of traits, including health. By the end of the game, I felt functionally unkillable as a vampire as my health often regenerated faster than enemies could damage me. 
As a human, fights are much more harrowing, since your healing options are limited to eating food between fights and using items equipped to quick slots during combat. You can't refill your quick slots while fighting, so you have to manage them carefully, and food is less effective in combat, pushing you to rely on medicines you can craft. Where you can restore health through combat abilities reliably as a vampire all game, as a human, you have to wait for openings to use a medicine, and make sure you pack enough to stay alive. This makes fighting as a human tough and active in interesting ways, but also incentivizes you to take on whatever battles you can with your safer and more powerful vampire abilities. Dawnwalker does include a decently granular difficulty system that you can adjust throughout the game, and it's definitely something you should mess with. You can separately adjust combat difficulty, dictating things like parry windows and the damage enemies inflict, and RPG difficulty, which governs elements like Coen's stamina costs and healing. At the default difficulty settings, it felt easy for the balance to get thrown off, so adjusting both was useful to keep Dawnwalker from getting frustratingly difficult or feeling too easy. While they don't always fire on all cylinders, what's notable about all these systems is how intricate and deliberate they are, how much the game wants you to think about the ways you interact with them, and how many cool swings they take. It's fun to think so deeply about how and when to level up, what armor and weapon bonuses are most important to your build, and what preparations you're going to need for a fight before you undertake it. Those elements give Dawnwalker's RPG systems a lot more depth and thoughtfulness than games in the genre often have. 
Holding it all together are the many, many cool stories you'll find along the way. The valley is absolutely littered with quests, and to their credit, they all feel like they're worth doing. What's more, you have a ton of freedom about what you actually get up to as you push toward your goal of saving people, and you won't always know how a quest might provide you with friends who can help you later, or unlock new information and further steps. But the fact that they so often do helps stop most quests from seeming like detours, and instead, weaves them together to tell Coen's story through your very specific path through the game. Everything has an air of being consequential, especially because Coen and others are constantly mentioning important tidbits gleaned from other quests, or the consequences of past actions. Writing and voice acting is also strong throughout the game, making so much of what might otherwise be mundane open-world content unexpectedly compelling. Brencis has three lieutenants who run his operations in the valley, doing things like recruiting soldiers, gathering the blood of peasants, and keeping the masses entertained and docile. Disrupting those operations can eventually draw them out, triggering quests that give you opportunities to kill them so you won't have to face Brencis at full strength. And even a lot of these activities, which are ostensibly of the base-clearing variety, throw in interesting little stories. You might run into a mother trying to convince her soldier son to desert, and then get the choice to try to talk him into it through reasoning, intimidation, or bribery, lowering the difficulty of the battle against his remaining squad. Or you might find that, after clearing a few camps where peasants are paid to gather leeches to help store blood for the vampires, the commoners you're ostensibly trying to help at the remaining camps have taken up arms to help defend their livelihoods against you. The quests tied to each of Brencis's lieutenants are some of the best in the game, giving you opportunities to catch each one when they're vulnerable, and giving you a deep look into who they are. They're also full of tough, interesting choices, like when you're approached by a vassal of one lieutenant who wants to help you win a duel against him by poisoning the blood he drinks--which means poisoning an innocent person. How you deal with situations has material consequences and creates some great, small-scale dramas. A lot of the quests in Dawnwalker are still sticking with me days later, and I want to dive back in to follow the many plot threads that I missed or cut short. 
Dawnwalker also throws in a very good idea to mess with the formula of giving you all these tough choices to make: the fact that you're a vampire. Often when talking to people, you'll see an option on your list of responses: "Give in to the hunger." As your health gets lower and you get hungrier, that option becomes more prevalent. It might hop around the list to try to trick you into selecting it, and other options might briefly change into the hunger option. If your health is low enough, you might not get the choice at all--the hunger will take over and your murderous nature will take out that character. It's a great idea that creates interesting and serious consequences. Killing someone, either on purpose or by accident, might wall off a quest you needed that person to complete, or change its circumstances. At the very least, people who would have played a larger part in the story won't be around later if they're dead. It injects a fun, unexpected drama into a game where you're already constantly choosing how you want to deal with people and what you're willing to do to achieve your goals. What's disappointing about the idea is that it's so easy to circumvent. I experienced Coen losing control during a Dawnwalker preview event, but playing it for review, it never happened again. The game puts up plenty of guard rails to help you avoid being forced into that situation, whether it's animals or other people you can briefly feed on, health bar enhancements that make it tougher to fall so low you can't stop yourself, or passive healing that lessens the risk. So I never got challenged by my vampire nature in a way that was out of my hands. It's a shame, because being forced to balance your health or perform well in a fight because of the risk you might pose to regular people is a great idea, and I wish Dawnwalker leaned into it more. 
The game can also be a bit technically shaky, although its issues never reached above minor frustrations for me. Objects and textures pop in frequently, animations can hitch in conversations, some platforming sections see Coen slipping off walls or falling through the ground haphazardly, and hit boxes are occasionally a little finicky in combat. The limitations mostly result in briefly irritating sections, but they happen often enough to be notable, if not dealbreaking. Rebel Wolves has already patched out a lot of issues and plans a Day One update that should help things even more, but it's worth noting that you're going to see some jank that will affect the experience, so save often. Overall, The Blood of Dawnwalker is an incredibly ambitious, deeply interesting first game from Rebel Wolves. Not every good idea lands and not every envelope is pushed as far as it could be, but the potential of the game is vast, and there's a huge amount to lean into and love. And it's all bolstered by excellent writing that makes for one of the deepest and most interesting game worlds I've run across in some time. The Blood of Dawnwalker is the kind of RPG that feels great to get lost in, that digs into your mind and stays there, and which is worth scouring and savoring...
Resonance: A Plague Tale Legacy faces a difficult balancing act. Can it move away from its predecessors' terrifying waves of rats and still deliver a supernatural terror that ties into rewarding environmental puzzles? Can it ditch the series' sibling protagonists and still tell a moving story focused on two people learning to lean on one another? And can it add fierce, frenetic combat to the franchise's formula as a new gameplay pillar without abandoning its core identity as a puzzle game? At times, Resonance succeeds--especially during its stronger first half--but it too often loses its footing. And as the game increasingly misses the mark, it further distances itself from what worked so well in the first two A Plague Tale games without adding anything to make up for the loss. Set in 1334, about 15 years prior to the first two A Plague Tale games, Resonance follows Sophia instead of series protagonist Amicia de Rune. As a young girl, Sophia was forcibly injected with blood that causes her to have visions of a long-lost civilization. Wanting to cure her of these visions, her father eventually finds and travels to the island that she has seen in her visions, but in his attempts to uncover the island's history, he is killed by a mysterious and terrifying beast. Wanting to discover what her visions mean and learn about what truly happened to her dad, Sophia travels to the island with her best friend, Leni, in tow. 
The story, especially in the first half, is very good. This series has consistently done a fantastic job of quickly building up characters or situations in its introductions to be narrative buy-ins that are solely there to be destroyed or yanked away early on and create emotional stakes: Amicia's happy family life in the first game, the hope that Amicia's life had returned to some degree of normalcy in the second game. Resonance does the same. You actually spend quite a bit of time getting to know Sophia in Europe and the fairly happy life she has with the adopted family of smugglers she grew up with before a tragic event forces Sophia to go to the island. There's a real sense of desperation in her tale, and the stakes of what may happen to her or Leni if she were to return to her allies empty-handed and without answers are abundantly apparent. Leni and Sophia have an odd dynamic. Narratively, it's pretty good. There's some angst beneath the playful banter of the two friends that implies there could be romantic feelings pushing the two together, and the two play off one another in cutscenes incredibly well with their very different skill sets--Sophia is a fighter who can muscle through problems that require strength, and Leni is a pickpocket who is adept at getting in and out of places she doesn't belong. 
But that's never reflected in the gameplay. Leni can hold her own in a fight just as well as Sophia can (she even one-shots whichever enemy she's dealing with as soon as you handle the second-to-last foe) and regularly helps out with pushing open heavy doors and moving partially stuck levers. And at the same time, Sophia can squeeze into any spot Leni can and is usually the lead on how to solve puzzles (because she's you, the player!). The story does a great job of framing that these two are only succeeding because they have one another, but then this framing is repeatedly struck down whenever the cutscene ends and control returns to you. Again, it all feels very odd, like Resonance is holding onto its partnership framing for no other reason than that the first two games used it. The mysterious, newly discovered island that Sophia and Leni find themselves on is quickly revealed to be Crete, what was once home to Minoan society and, if the myths are to be believed, a minotaur-inhabited labyrinth. The characters don't know that--it's 1334, so all of those stories have yet to be uncovered again. 
This is a terrific framing for a puzzle game. As Sophia, you carry a book loaded with drawings from your childhood visions, your dad's early attempts to explore the island, and all the follow-up expeditions that the smuggling gang undertook after his passing. There's no writing--it's all a series of drawings. And using those drawings, you have to figure out how to retrace the steps of those who came before, while also finding your own way forward when unexpected roadblocks pop up. To aid in her and Leni's exploration, Sophia possesses an artifact that dates back to the Minoan society that once lived on the island. The sphere can redirect light to reveal hidden symbols left behind with invisible paint, and also open doorways that require lining up beams of light to hit certain points on a wall. These puzzles centered around the use of light are rarely complicated, but contribute to the feeling of Sophia and Leni being intelligent dungeon delvers who are uncovering long-lost history. 
The process feels as I imagine archaeology to be--I don't believe Sophia's journey is in any way accurate to uncovering forgotten ruins and unraveling ancient mysteries, but the idealized fantasy of it is well represented here. Crete is also a beautiful place to explore. The island is brightly lit and full of vibrant greens, reds, and blues, while the faded bronze of statues, broken weapons, and simple machinery mark Minoan society. Resonance also has the best soundtrack of the series, sticking to strings to frame most of Sophia's journey as a grand adventure or odyssey, and crucially plucking at the tension once the supernatural terror begins to rear its head. 
It takes Resonance longer than any other A Plague Tale game to reveal its monster, but once it does, any semblance that this will be a fun couples adventure for Sophia and Leni is gone. The beast is creepy, slinking through the darkness of the island's underbelly in search of any and all life. In these darkened areas, Sophia becomes covered in softly glowing blue lights, and she leaves a trail of luminescent tracks whenever she's not crouch-walking. The beast can use these trails to track her, but it also will pause to take a hauntingly raspy sniff of the air--if Sophia is not behind cover when this happens, the beast will sniff out the blue lights on her and pursue her. The beast's only weakness is light. It burns away upon touching any light source, and so encounters with the beast are a series of tense stealth sections as you bravely venture into the dark to reach the next source of light. These sections are terrifying, especially the first one as the beast is introduced and you finally get to see what killed Sophia's father. These moments stay pretty consistently creepy too, with the sound design of the beast's methodical movements and desperate breathing creating a tense and frantic atmosphere whenever it shows up. And Resonance continues to raise the bar with each encounter, adding new types of obstacles to consider (like how to find safety in areas where the beast can dim the light, or there's no light whatsoever) and more types of enemy terrors for Sophia to encounter in the dark. It's certainly the most memorable take I've ever seen of Crete's infamous minotaur. 
Figuring out what the beast is and its motivations becomes the biggest driving mystery of Resonance. As Sophia ventures closer to the minotaur's lair, she encounters more and more that is unfamiliar to her but very much understood for us as the player, but the game's reframing of these long-familiar myths is an enticing draw. Sophia soon starts having visions of being Theseus, the Greek hero who we know slayed the minotaur, but their story feels quite different from the tale we know. They don't seem to be a divine adventurer, but are instead a gladiator who rose to fame by participating in some sort of competition; and they have a secret agreement with Daedalus, the famed inventor of the labyrinth. These visions are beautiful, reimagining what Minoan society might have looked like at the height of the Bronze Age. They're also wonderful power fantasies as Theseus is a far stronger warrior than Sophia. 
Combat is merely fine in Resonance. Sophia can strike, block, dodge, and parry, and also has a grappling hook to grab and yank enemies toward her. The soldiers that followed Sophia and Leni to the island come in your typical variety of standard, nimble, shield-bearing, spear-wielding, and heavy enemy types, each of which has a singular tried-and-true method of taking them down. The challenge of combat comes down to crowd management, ducking and weaving and parrying long enough for an opening to present itself. Sophia (and Theseus) can take two hits before the third kills them, and health is only regained by executing an enemy, encouraging you to fight aggressively and end conflicts swiftly or to keep a weaker enemy alive for an easy stab-and-heal while whittling away at a much stronger foe. These brief and violent dances are a fun break from the puzzle-solving in the first half of the game, but in the latter half--especially the final few hours--Resonance starts throwing huge groups of enemies at you, and that's when the combat system falls apart. Resonance doesn't have a lock-on feature, so dealing with especially large groups of enemies clumped together is a pain, and I found myself frustratingly dying often because I was trying to attack a specific enemy I had just stunned, only for Sophia to wail against the impenetrable shield of a healthy target instead. 
The ending of Resonance is also just far weaker than the first half. Sofia either travels alone or with a far less interesting NPC. The decision to have her travel solo I can understand--it ups the tension during moments when the beast is hunting Sophia, and also ensures that those tense moments aren't ruined by the companion messing up and breaking stealth. That would have probably sucked. But Sophia's other companion is a poor tradeoff for moments when Leni isn't there--the game does such a good job of villainizing this other character up to that point in the story, that for Sophia to then be forced to work with them for several chapters feels off-putting. The decision to make Sophia travel with a companion at all, again, feels like the lingering ghost of the older games dictating what the formula needs to be. The moments where Sophia is traveling solo clearly showcase that she can carry a game on her own, but if we had to have her talk out loud to someone else to progress the story, I'm baffled that the dev team didn't go for the far more intriguing choice of somehow making the ghost of Theseus work. 
Resonance also starts going a little too far into the physical trauma porn in the end, even giving Lara Croft from the rebooted Tomb Raider trilogy a run for her money. There comes a point where seeing a character survive getting tossed around, beaten, and bloodied makes you start to wonder if the character is superhuman. When that occurs, the fantasy of this being a story of an ordinary woman grappling with the ramifications of discovering a supernatural power begins to crack, and you stop worrying about a protagonist once you've seen them survive a near-death experience half a dozen times. Perhaps worst of all, the final moments of Resonance have a lore problem. If you've played these games, you'll be able to start piecing together what's going on in the latter half of the story, and the final big reveal will ultimately hit you like a freight train. If you know the ramifications of Resonance's mystery and absolutely awesome conclusion, it might be the best finale in the series. But if you have no idea what, as an example, the Prima Macula is, the last five hours of this game's story will make very little sense to you and the finale will probably be a confusing dud. You'll still get the emotional payoff of Sophia having acquired the answers she was seeking, but the game doesn't provide the necessary context to fully understand what those answers mean. So, as strange as it is to say, if you want to play Resonance and you haven't played both of the previous A Plague Tale games, you have homework. This is not a prequel that tells a story that can stand on its own, nor is it an ideal on-ramp for the series. Overall, I liked Resonance: A Plague Tale Legacy. I think it adds a valuable chapter to the overall mythos of the series, and manages to carve out its own identity in several places without continuing to rely on fan-favorite Amicia or the terror of contending with waves of rats. But you have to be such a fan of the series already to enjoy it to the same extent as I did, and even then, shortcomings in combat and the companion system hold the game back, especially in a latter half that seems to drag as you get closer to the conclusion. I want people to play Resonance, but I can't ignore that any game that requires doing homework beforehand to enjoy is a bit lacking. If you do that homework though, Resonance easily stands besides the other A Plague Tale games as a great AA, story-driven experience...
Star Wars has been inspiring video games practically since video games have existed, but unlike the trailblazing film series, it has mostly been content to follow the leader. As a result, we've gotten all sorts of Star Wars video games molded after familiar templates, from first-person shooters to racing games. Those have been enjoyable enough, but they're very much defined as: "genre, but Star Wars." It's rare, but not unheard of, for a Star Wars game to push a genre forward with a combination of new ideas and great execution. Star Wars Zero Company is one such case. At first glance, it's easy to underestimate Zero Company, though. By all appearances this is simply XCOM, set in the world of Star Wars. You have a similar overhead perspective, commanding a small squad of commandos in turn-based combat as they take cover, flank and maneuver, and work together to take down formidable armies. And while that isn't inaccurate as shorthand, it would also sell the game short. Partly by capitalizing on the rich world of Star Wars itself, Zero Company finds ways to iterate further on XCOM, rather than merely imitate it. 
Burn, baby, burn First, some table-setting. Zero Company is set during the Clone Wars era of Star Wars, the tumultuous time seen in the prequel trilogy when the Republic was just on the verge of collapse into the Galactic Empire. Your player character, Hawks, is a down-and-out former Republic commander who started their own mercenary outfit after a disastrous mission gone wrong ruined their military career. The mercenaries, called Zero Company, are having money problems and struggling to find work, when a young Republic officer named Bennic offers steady, not-technically-Republic wet work in exchange for settling your debts. It would be easy to make Bennic sinister or conniving, dangling cash to desperate mercs, but this is one area where Zero Company excels. The characters are well-rounded and feel alive with humanity. Bennic is actually an honest broker for the Republic--a true believer who quickly folds himself into Zero Company and acts as the Republic's emissary. At first he seems like an assigned babysitter, but the friendship between Bennic and Hawks grows and changes in believable ways. The same could be said for the other members of Zero Company, like the decommissioned clone Trick or the grizzled old boxer Kabb Uppercut. The one slight exception is Cly, a Mandalorian bounty hunter who presents herself out of the blue to Zero Company as an asset they can't afford to refuse. Her story is the thinnest of all the named characters, and while it ultimately gets mildly more interesting, her inclusion felt perfunctory. Mandalorians are a popular piece of the Star Wars franchise, and her power set makes her a great inclusion to the tactical combat, so it makes sense to represent the Mando clan. I just wish her individual story and characterization were as strong as the rest. 
You might say this is a Trick shot As the adventure progresses, Zero Company finds itself facing a crisis flying just below the Republic's radar--a strange cult called the Coil that inducts new members with superhuman abilities, all rallied under the banner of a leader named Fathom. Bennic helps the team prioritize this threat, which feels appropriately sized for this story. In this era of Star Wars, the threat needs to be small enough that it doesn't attract much attention from the Jedi or the Grand Army of the Republic, but frightening enough that it could snowball if it isn't contained. Zero Company is punching above its weight taking on a galactic threat like this, and that gives the story real stakes while still retaining a sense of belonging in the Star Wars universe. For me, the named characters were the stars of Zero Company, and I used them almost exclusively. Like an XCOM game, though, you can also recruit randomized soldiers to your army and develop them on their own, modeling them after your friends or your favorite Star Wars OCs. And as the story develops, you slowly open new options for the types of operators you can recruit, eventually gaining the ability to recruit droids and clones, which have their own specializations. Those specializations, and especially the ones for the named Zero Company characters, are really the secret sauce that makes Zero Company stand out from other tactics games. As it happens, Star Wars is an especially fertile ground to have lots of differentiated power sets, so you aren't just limited to the usual archetypes like soldiers, heavies, and medics. By the time you finish Zero Company, you'll have access to clones, droids, a Mandalorian, a Jedi, an Umbaran, and whatever the heck a Kabb is. Each of them has their own attributes and most have abilities that are specially tailored to their unique identity in Star Wars lore. 
The diverse cast of Star Wars Zero Company Take Cly, for example. She has the Mando's signature jet pack, making her an especially nimble operator who can cross great distances easily and ignore many height restrictions. If she lands in the middle of a set of enemies, she'll even knock them back and inflict burn damage, and by default her weapon is a pistol with three shots. It just feels so perfectly Mandalorian to rocket-drop into a scrum of weakened enemies and pick them all off with three quick blaster bolts. Your Jedi, meanwhile, excels at up-close melee combat, dealing heavy damage with her lightsaber, pushing and pulling enemies with the Force, and then dropping into a defensive stance that blocks many blaster bolts. And true to their Star Wars identity, droids are an incredibly useful support tool, able to grant your teammates extra moves and carry more equipment than anyone else. They're all so fun to play with. I often wished the squads were bigger so I could bring more of them along on missions, and picking and choosing which ones to make my core crew was difficult. Most of these abilities cost Action Points--three per character, per turn--which are well-tuned to balance your movement and attack abilities. My Hawks was a sniper, for instance, so I quickly had to internalize that since her main attack cost 2 AP, her movement was severely limited compared to the rest. She had just enough to reposition slightly, but couldn't move across the map like the others. And if I were already in an advantageous position, I could fire off a shot and then use her extra-long Overwatch ability to restrict enemy movement. Jae or Cly, meanwhile, could move much more effectively, but were much less accurate and powerful. Successful actions also build up a shared pool of Advantage (ADV), which enables extra-powerful moves like Trick's Rocket Strike, which does a ton of explosive damage in a concentrated location. I got in the habit of saving that little beauty for when enemy reinforcements showed up and crowded around an entry point. But ADV also has a lot of utility for giving you occasional access to moves with specialized use-cases, like Cly's aforementioned jetpack. 
Your Jedi companion is great at controlling the space Each combat encounter also has a rotating backup ability, which alternates between the members of your squad randomly each turn. Selecting your backup before starting your attack action will let another member of the squad take a shot too, doubling your effectiveness. But that also means you need to carefully position your squadmates and consider which ones have a clear line of sight before you choose a backup partner, adding another tactical wrinkle to combat. And it awards Bond XP between operators as well--more on that in a bit. You use these abilities on a wide range of enemies, from regular humanoids to Clone Wars-era battle droids, including deadly droidekas, to the cultist Coil. The Coil is not quite a hivemind, since it doesn't have one shared consciousness. Instead, its fanatical followers all work individually but collaboratively toward a goal in perfect unison. (If you've seen the Apple TV show Pluribus, you'll have the general idea.) It's unnerving from a story standpoint and has neat applications in gameplay. Since the Coil are all linked, defeating one will often empower the next-closest Coil member with some special ability like extra defense or even cloaking. That adds yet another dynamic element, forcing you to carefully plan which ones to pick off and in which order to maximize your advantage over the rest, knowing that they'll be steadily ramping up in difficulty as you do. And those Coil advantages are partially influenced by the mission briefs, where you'll sometimes be given a choice of which Coil upgrade to stop. There's no way to prevent both--the Coil abilities will get stronger in some way no matter what--but these decisions let you shape the types of challenges you'll face in the tactical missions. Your home base is where you'll spend mission cash on upgrades that apply to your whole team and black-market gear for your individual units. You'll also be able to upgrade your team's bonds, which start to unlock powerful upgrades across both operators when they reach the highest levels, manage their ability loadouts with unlimited free refunds to toy with different builds, adjust equipment and weapon mods, and more. 
Well that's going to hurt If that description hasn't made it clear, there are choices upon choices upon choices in Zero Company, but it never feels overwhelming or obtuse. Everything is digestible and clear, which is quite a feat for such a dense tactical game with so many options. I always felt fully in control of my decisions and knew exactly what I was doing. While there was a great variety of abilities, enemies, and satisfying tactical choices, though, some of the missions did start to feel very familiar over my 30-hour playtime. I attribute this to similar objectives, which made many missions play very similarly. You often have to wipe the battlefield of all enemies, of course, but missions would often then end with getting to an extraction point, usually after a dose of reinforcements. The tactical combat itself is very fun, so it didn't bother me too much, but the lack of variety in mission objectives stood out as a weak spot. While Zero Company uses cameos sparingly, the ones it does include are effective. Anakin Skywalker shows up briefly, so you can be completely overpowered for a handful of missions, and in the context of the Clone Wars cartoon, this is believably just another mission he was tangentially attached to for a little while before jetting off to other Jedi missions. I wasn't too sorry to see him go, because by that point I was developing such affection for my squad that I wanted to spend more time with them anyway. That's what makes the story so effective. The story of the Coil cult is a somewhat typical sci-fi threat, but I wanted to overcome it with my squad, as I had shaped and gotten to know them. We built bonds as a game mechanic, but I built bonds with them myself too. Star Wars Zero Company is like XCOM, but it is more than just an XCOM-like. Developer Bit Reactor set higher ambitions than simply slapping a Star Wars skin on a template. Star Wars is a rich playground for games, with loads of differentiated hero and enemy types and powers baked in, and Zero Company takes full advantage of that to make an excellent tactics game in its own right. In doing so, it has made the next great evolution of the genre...
For as long as I can remember, I've enjoyed zombie fiction. I've always figured it's because I saw Romero's classics at way too young an age, but I've never wavered in my enthusiasm for the undead, be they in movies, TV shows, books, or video games. By now, I feel like I've seen, read, and played nearly all of them. It's that familiarity with the genre that has had me so excited for No More Room in Hell 2 over the past few years, even through some early-access growing pains, and why I'm glad to see the 1.0 release stick the landing. It's been a long journey to this 1.0 build for Torn Banner, the team behind the PvP medieval combat series Chivalry. I've been playing No More Room in Hell 2 for about two years now in early access and have watched as its studio tried to strike a chord with the community, which at times seemed fed up with the sequel and preferred its under-the-radar original. Balancing issues, bugs, and overall design issues got in the way at times, but I feel as though most have been washed away in its current form. No More Room in Hell 2 is a first-person zombie-survival game designed for teams of eight. Right away, that's a pretty cool feature, as zombie games tend to be made for massive lobbies of dozens, like DayZ; smaller co-op teams, like Left 4 Dead; or solo experiences, like Days Gone. The novelty of eight players is a boon to the game, but it wouldn't mean much if, ultimately, that's all it had going for it. Thankfully, it has a lot else that works well in its favor. In its purposely slower-paced story missions, you'll move through campaigns set on large maps in Pennsylvania with a lot of lateral space to explore, taking you from the woods to residential neighborhoods to downtown areas and more, completing objectives as a group and hopefully escaping with the same number of beating hearts you arrived with. No More Room in Hell 2 clearly draws on timeless zombie-fiction imagery, with the undead springing from caskets, banging on doors and windows until they break their seals, and shambling through graveyards like someone should warn Barbara. While the new console version naturally doesn't look as nice as the PC edition I've been playing for the past two years, the game has a strong sense of atmosphere no matter where you're playing it. 
No More Room In Hell 2 takes players to a wide range of locations that feel like classic zombie-fiction set dressing. In some campaigns, you'll start alone and must find each other through exploration. These missions are my favorites, as they feel especially desolate and dangerous, and that's always been what I look for in zombie games. Throughout early access, this was always meant to be a slow-burning, Romero-esque walk through hell, and it excels by achieving that vision. Though nearly all zombies in the game are of the classic slow-moving type, even just one of them can spell trouble. They're relentless. In fact, on higher difficulties, there may even be too many, offering not enough breathing room for the highs to feel as high as they should. But on normal difficulty, the game finds a sweet spot. Killing just one of them often takes four or more swipes with a melee weapon, and that's if you're diligently hitting them in the head, chipping away at their skulls as their brains flop out like someone's stepped on a tube of toothpaste. Body blows will only serve to tire you faster than it will take out the restless ghouls--unless you happen to have a sharp weapon and cut off enough of their limbs to halt them. Letting them into your personal space is a tense affair, as it's important to let them get just close enough for you to hit them, but not close enough that they slash or bite at you. Learning to measure them up correctly is an early hurdle that will decide who lives or dies. Managing stamina is a thoughtful and near-constant exercise in survival. A powerful kick ability allows you to gain some vital breathing space when you're being surrounded, but it also eats away a big chunk of your stamina. The same is true of running. Very early on, I learned to stay aware of my surroundings, because while running from the horde behind you may seem absolutely crucial, you may be heading straight toward another and won't stand to survive if you're exhausted when you get there. Further demonstrating how seriously this game takes its zombie fiction, you can get infected mid-mission, and if you're not careful, you'll not only turn into one of them, but you'll become a speedier variant, losing control of your character as you're left to torment your fellow survivors from beyond the grave. 
You can help your infected teammates, or you can wait for them to turn and then lop off their limbs. This element is No More Room in Hell 2's coolest, because it allows for some really fascinating social dynamics. Pills will temporarily keep the infection at bay, and anyone infected will give away their illness by coughing every once in a while. But what if you don't have pills, or what if no one is willing to share theirs? They're not abundant enough to go around, so I've seen some people choose not to share, opting to take their chances with the fast ghoul who will soon come charging toward whoever is nearby. On the flipside, the infected person could distance themselves and try to hide their illness, just like the selfish guy in any zombie movie's group of survivors. This may buy them time to find a cure, or just escape with infected status while keeping their character alive. If they're more altruistic, they can instead sacrifice themselves just before they turn--provided they have any ammo--sparing their fellow survivors from dealing with the mess. It's a hard decision to make in either case when you're playing on difficulties higher than beginner, because permadeath is a part of the experience. Characters are re-rolled randomly, applying some basic stats and a backstory, and you can customize their clothing if you'd like. From there, you'll level them with each successful campaign, unlocking skills of your choosing at regular intervals that help you lean into particular builds. Knowing I had no plans to use guns all that much, I often grabbed skills that buffed my stamina and melee damage, and it's really satisfying to see a character come together over many hours. But should they die, they're lost for good. The stakes feel so high. Taking my level 20+ character into a round that quickly went into the gutter was nerve-racking. Thankfully, these lengthy campaign missions that typically take anywhere from 30-60 minutes offer a few early exits on your travels. If you're determined to just get out alive, you can extract early, even as an individual, at the cost of any character XP gains. But hey, at least you'll be leaving with your life. While heavy, weighted melee combat helps sell this immersive experience even more, gunplay on controller leaves something to be desired. The aim assist isn't reliable enough, as it's quite sticky but then doesn't track zombie heads well, meaning you'll often waste ammo hitting them in the chest, while trying to correct for it feels hard to pinpoint, too. It's serviceable at closer range, but only barely, and partly because the zombies are attracted to noise, and you ought not be firing loud weapons unless it's the only thing keeping you alive in any given moment. This means you can, and probably will, get through some missions without ever using guns. I do wish my co-op partners understood that better so we could keep the hordes off our backs more often, but even these teammate frustrations feel authentic to what living in a zombie world might feel like. 
While you should stick to beginner difficulty for a few early rounds, the game is at its best when permadeath is in play on higher difficulties. The teamwork required in this game is intense, and some would-be-selfish players must find themselves banding together at times, because the deeper you get into a mission, the harder it becomes, and you don't want to fight off that final horde with a deficit in your team size. There are plenty of times where you or a teammate could be totally gassed and about to be swarmed, only for an ally to save the day. But in this world, there's little time to celebrate, as the next horde likely isn't far off. Another issue the game's newly implemented controller support suffers from is strangely janky menus. Exploring options screens or even different overlays in the main menu, like moving from character upgrades to the in-game store to the challenge system, often feels clunky; my cursor would disappear, and I'd need to guess where I'm clicking. It's merely an annoyance in the main menu but can become a bigger issue on missions, like if you have a teammate playing music that his headset is picking up and you can't easily get to the mute button. No More Room in Hell 2 doesn't let you stop and breathe very often, so when this happened to me, I didn't have time to fumble around in the social menu. Instead, I found myself wishing that guy would just get bitten. I'm not proud of it. It's sad what these apocalyptic times make of us. Outside of the main campaign-style "Objective" mode, there's also a wave-based survival mode. I've never been nearly as interested in wave-based zombie modes--it's why I don't even bother playing Call of Duty Zombies these days--but I like No More Room in Hell 2's survival mode just fine as a shorter alternative to the lengthy missions. They're good for farming weekly challenges and leveling characters faster than the real attraction allows, but I'd sooner just decide to play when I have the time for the game's best version of itself. Though No More Room in Hell 2 clearly leans into decades of zombie history, it feels, most of all, like a great mash-up of two of my favorite zombie games: It has the dread-inducing, life-or-death stakes of State of Decay wrapped in a tight co-op experience reminiscent of Left 4 Dead. Though some subpar shooting mechanics keep it from being as enjoyable as either of those, that's also a very high bar in my mind, and No More Room in Hell 2 still accomplishes a hell of a lot...
For my entire life, sports games have lived under the shadow of a particular criticism: "same game, different year." It was never literally true, of course, but has often reasonably captured the sentiments of millions of players who jump into annualized sports sims year after year. EA's NFL sim Madden may be the most common target of this flavor of feedback. There have been years when I, too, was very disappointed with Madden. It was taking the sport I love most and fumbling it every August. But for five years now, it's felt less true, and at this point, with Madden NFL 27, we just have to admit Madden is good again. To be fair, I had even higher praise for Madden 26 than you'll find in this Madden 27 review, which takes a slight step back in some ways, but none of those shortcomings can be found on the virtual field itself. It's the continued gameplay improvements that keep Madden from succumbing once more to formerly reliable memes and criticisms. The Tiburon team has been building and iterating on its foundational gameplay in clear and beneficial ways on a timeline that, to my mind, began with Madden 23. It culminates with this year's game, which feels better than ever when you step onto the gridiron. Defense is the key. Despite my career-high praise of last year's game, something shook it to its core a month or two after launch, breaking the pass rush for the duration of the game's time in the sun. It resulted in a Madden experience where games routinely went over 90 total points scored. In my competitive Madden league, I even saw some players score upwards of 70+ several times. Defense was sickly. Madden 27 is medicine. This year's game focuses intensely on giving players more control over their players and improving things like zone coverage and pass rushing, in particular. In last year's game, it felt like you needed a sixth sense as the user on D to make a stop. With smarter zone coverage, you can rely on AI defenders. Players won't spectate from the middle of their zone anymore, as they now "look for work," diagnosing a play's progression and playing proactively rather than reactively. Along with new tools to play conservatively, aggressively, or their ultra variants, you can now better prepare for what you think you know before the ball is snapped. These new shoulder-button commands are part of a complete remap of the pre-play adjustments. These take some getting used to, as they reconfigure years of muscle memory for longtime Madden players, but it's a worthy learning curve to run down, because the end result gives you not just more options, but options that are much quicker to activate. Things that may have taken four or five button presses in past games now take just two, and with new custom adjustments, you can create your own macro adjustments, bundling a set of would-be individual changes all in one go. For example, if you think you know what play your opponent is running, you can quickly activate a macro that adjusts your defensive line spacing, cornerback shading, and LB zone depth in ways that you feel counter that play correctly, all with the press of two buttons. 
Macro adjustments and a streamlined controller remap are changes made for the diehards, and I love them. It's truly revolutionary and speaks to Madden's renewed energy spent on serving the diehard community first and foremost. Even if macros sound too sweaty, you can use those provided by default, never having to jump into the game's menus to create your own. It's not as sexy a feature as the awesome new holiday game presentation, but in my mind, these new tools are the defining feature of Madden 27. As deep as these new tools go to help defense, many of them work on both sides of the ball, and the offense actually gets an exclusive new toy, too. Timing-based catching came to both of EA's American football games this summer, and Madden has the benefit of learning from College Football's launch-week struggles. Similarly to timing your NBA 2K shot release in the green zone, timing-based catching asks Madden players to snag the ball at the moment it hits your hands. I've taken about two weeks to make up my mind on this optional new mechanic, which you can toggle off. I was skeptical and worried at first, but I've settled on using it. It adds more player input to plays, removing some of the Madden Math--as those in my league like to call it when the game's attributes algorithm calculates who wins or loses any scuffle on a play. My only concern right now is that finding the sweet spot will be a months-long quest for the studio, as it reacts to players saying it's too powerful or not powerful enough. I hope it can settle into something predictable and reliable. If it does, I believe we'll see the team iterate on the feature in welcome ways for years to come. If it never quite lands right with the wider community, it may go the way of QB Vision: quickly swept out of the game. But for me, and for now, I like it. For many, including me, Franchise is the destination mode, and for the second straight year, the mode actually delivers some big changes that I enjoy. The marquee addition here is the Persona Engine, which assigns every player a number of personality traits, then makes dealing with them on your roster an interpersonal minigame. Players may have a team-first mindset, or they may be driven by money over all things. They may be quick to annoy or helpfully patient. They may be near the end of their career and seeking to close it out with a title, or they might demand a trade because you didn't offer them a contract that they felt respected their efforts. Something like this has been in Madden in recent years, but it's only been relevant during free agency, and even then, hasn't been very influential. This year, it's actually a big deal and will undoubtedly reshape your roster in unpredictable ways. A football team is 53 players, and for the first time ever, you'll feel like you're coaching 53 unique individuals. 
Every negotiation is its own experience. This is made better by an overhaul to how contracts are offered. For a long time, Madden's deals would reflect only one format: year-over-year pay increases. That might sound typical at your job, but it's not nearly true of the NFL, and now Madden captures these nuances. You can negotiate to add void years, rearrange the salary versus bonus money, apply no-trade clauses, and a number of other options that dynamically become available during contract talks, which now happen all throughout the season, rather than having a bunch of guys ready to discuss contracts in Week 3 like the old way Madden did deal-making. It's important to note that, though I didn't see many head-scratching deals in my Franchise sessions, social media has featured several in the first few days since Madden's release. Computer-controlled teams are signing too many players at one position, re-signing much of their roster for mega-deals that would break the salary cap, and doing other things that suggest Madden's new Persona Engine logic is causing some headaches. It's a tricky thing for me, as I didn't see them myself, so it can't color my firsthand experience--and playing in a 32-player league means I'll be insulated from CPU tomfoolery such as this--but I see these stories and ingest them like headlines of viruses somewhere else in the world. For now, I'm apparently safe, but I'm mindful that such dangers are lurking elsewhere. Kids would call this next part of my review a vibe shift. While the on-field and Franchise additions are great, if you're most interested in other modes, you'll be left wanting. Despite some fun in the custom-avatar career mode, Superstar, it was a frustrating experience overall. I played my career as a free safety, one of the new positions you can take on. But the play-by-play scoring system--a load-bearing pillar of this mode--is routinely faulty. When I'd make a tackle, it would score me as having made a tackle assist. When I'd engage in a block, it would downgrade me for having been pancaked, even as I remained upright. Even weirder, it would get game results wrong. With the Chargers, I beat the Rams to go 6-1, but after the game it said we were 5-2. Then next week, when I lost to the Texans, it gave me a win. Off the field, Superstar is still a fatigue-inducing affair of menus, corny brand inserts, and false choices. Often, dialogue options let me choose what to say in a text message or to the media, and the difference in outcomes is negligible. This mode also gets to something that is becoming worse in Madden, and probably only going to get even worse once the long-rumored PvPvE social mode, akin to NBA 2K's The City, finally arrives. Monetization is everywhere, and it's affecting gameplay. You can buy levels to improve your avatar faster than playing, but you can also buy a Superstar Pass, which is just a battle-pass-style system that gives you even more skill points for leveling up. Neither precludes you from the other, and in fact EA seems all too happy to let you double-dip, since progression is slow either way, and especially painful if you try to play for free, even if you stick to the single-player story. 
You could play Superstar without buying anything extra, but the game really prefers you spend money. The blowback NBA 2K gets over similar tactics hasn't really hit Madden yet because its half-measure of a social mode, Superstar Showdown, is largely ignored by the game's diehard players, whereas in NBA 2K, The City is the point for most players. But if predatory progression slowdowns like this still exist when that mode finally arrives, it'll be EA willfully stepping on a rake after having surely heard about these issues for years beforehand. At the very least, NBA 2K charges players a lot but delivers a fun game mode. For EA to both ask for so much of your money after the initial $70 (or even $150) and still not offer something enjoyable in exchange is mind-boggling. All that spending doesn't even account for the mode-agnostic Team Pass, which is another $10 every few weeks if you want it. Like last year's game, the Team Pass includes some recycled rewards from the previous Madden, which is frustrating for paid content anyway, but especially bad when it means my Tennessee Titans cosmetics include the team's outdated branding, since they overhauled their logo and uniforms last winter. Of course, you can't talk about overly monetized design without speaking to Ultimate Team, the decades-long undisputed champion of pay-to-win tactics in a fully priced game. For what it's worth, Ultimate Team (MUT) doesn't get much focus in Madden 27, which is what many Franchise and Superstar fans always hope for, as they feel it means more resources went to their preferred landing spots instead. What MUT does add this year is a bit more flexibility in how player cards crystallize, with "Evo" cards allowing you to over-level cards, change their archetypes, and more. To my eyes, this mode is a chore each year that demands you spend your free time playing nothing but MUT. I don't find that fun or rewarding and probably never will, so long as they keep throwing me into games against credit-card warriors who spend hundreds or thousands of dollars to shred people online using the same small handful of glitched plays that emerge every year. Hard pass. On top of the awesome holiday presentation packages that decorate broadcast-style elements to fit Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, Madden 27's presentation adds a few other welcome touches. This includes more numerous and detailed alternate field designs that are rolled out to match throwback and alternate jerseys whenever the home team equips them. The weekly recap and halftime shows go deeper than before, adding a Player of the Week segment. It's all still handled by Scott Hanson, too, who brings authenticity and electricity to each instance. 
The holiday broadcasts are a relatively small addition that go a long way toward improving the game. With all of these new bells and whistles over the past two Maddens, I do wish players in PvP could opt into what the game calls "full" presentation. By default, if you're playing someone online, the game skips a lot of these awesome displays, like pre-game run-outs and highlights that mimic fading to commercial. These go a long way toward giving the game a more authentic feel, and it's too bad I rarely get to see them once my review sessions are over and the rest of my games are played in PvP league games. Presentation is right up there with gameplay and Franchise as the three key pillars that determine whether I enjoy a Madden installment. While the gains here have been smaller than those on the field, in particular, they are still very noticeable, very appreciated, and very cool. Madden 27 is the fifth consecutive year in which the on-field experience has been foundationally sound and improves on its predecessor. It's a heartening trajectory for a series I've spent my life playing, through both good and bad eras. Despite the still-glaring issues in arenas like Superstar and MUT, Madden feels cool again. It's past time we stopped applying outdated perspectives to a game that has evolved significantly over the past half-decade. Madden will continue to frustrate at times, patches will sometimes be slow to arrive, and monetization is still way too intrusive and seems likely to get worse. But if you stick to Franchise and take advantage of the many new tools at your disposal on the field, there's a game worth celebrating here...
Mortal Shell 2 features most of the familiar hallmarks of the souls-like genre: It's set in a dark fantasy world and incorporates gothic, medieval, and otherworldly themes into its aesthetic. Its combat is deep, challenging, satisfyingly hard-hitting, and will punish you for being overzealous. There are bonfires (called beacons) where you can rest and recover lost health at the expense of respawning enemies, and you also drop the level-up currency each time you die, forcing you to retrieve it in the next life or lose it completely. On the surface, Mortal Shell 2 might sound like your standard run-of-the-mill souls-like–quite possibly too derivative for its own good–yet developer Cold Symmetry's sequel is more than just a safe and simple copycat. It manages to stand out in an overcrowded genre by taking familiar aspects and transforming them in a multitude of meaningful ways. As someone who quickly bounced off the first game, I came into Mortal Shell 2 with no expectations and was left constantly thrilled by its unique approach, which essentially deconstructs core elements of the souls-like experience to make them feel fresh and exciting. 
The most immediately obvious of these is the absence of a stamina meter. You're free to attack and dodge as many times as you want without needing to stop, catch your breath, and wait for a meter to replenish. This gives Mortal Shell 2's combat an aggressive cadence, whether you're on the attack or defending for your life. Rather than backing off after avoiding a flurry of enemy attacks, you can instantly launch into a barrage of offensive strikes yourself, or carve through weaker enemy mobs without gasping for air halfway through. This doesn't mean it's a mindless hack-and-slasher either. You can't cancel out of any attack animations, so each forward strike needs to be deliberate and considered to avoid overcommitting and leaving yourself wide open, especially when using slower weapons like the Great Martyr's Blade or Obsidian Hammer. The decision to forgo stamina makes a dynamic difference and is one of the most notable ways Mortal Shell 2 improves upon its predecessor's combat–which was often marred by gratingly sluggish battles. It's still not particularly fast-paced by any stretch, but the combat animations are much snappier without losing a sense of weight and visceral brutality. 
The minutiae of stabbing, slicing, and bashing enemies to death with various melee weapons can best be described as "meaty," creating a satisfying crunch as you cleave through flesh and lop off heads, limbs, and non-human body parts amidst a torrent of crimson rain. It's great stuff, bolstered by a diverse variety of weapons and enemy types. From a large scythe and rangy spear to dual katanas that transform into an axe, each weapon type feels distinct, and there's plenty of joy to be found alternating between light and heavy attacks to fluidly launch into different combos. I only wish it were feasible to experiment with more weapons as your growing arsenal gradually expands. By the midway point in the game, I was drowning in upgrade materials but only ever had enough money to fully upgrade a single weapon. It would've been nice to use some of the others beyond just testing them out, but trading a weapon with multiple upgrades for one without any made no sense when I was never going to be able to improve it as much. You're also equipped with a sidearm, starting out with a short-range shotgun before moving on to more experimental armaments, such as a miniature Gatling gun and a lute that causes enemies to fight amongst themselves after a forceful strum. Each shot costs Resolve, which is replenished by connecting with melee attacks, so sidearms are an intrinsic part of combat, adding to its dynamism with another gratifying way to dismantle enemies. 
Meanwhile, the enemies you'll face come in all shapes and sizes. There are armored knights–wielding either a sword or spear–fleet-footed assassins, religious fanatics, large bearded human skulls that scuttle around on four legs, insect-like creatures with deadly pincers, rock-throwing giants, and everything else in between. This variety does plateau a tad during the game's second half, as it introduces more variants of familiar enemies rather than entirely new ones, but there are so many different opponents to fight that repetition rarely rears its ugly head. They're not just visually distinct, either. Each enemy type is meaningfully diverse in how they approach you, typically mixing things up with multiple attack patterns and feints to throw you off. While you can always dodge incoming strikes, Mortal Shell 2 also gives you access to a few unique defensive maneuvers to suit different playstyles. The Harden mechanic from the first game returns–letting you calcify to absorb an enemy attack–only now it's tied to a specific Seal. Seals are new items in Mortal Shell 2; you can only equip one at a time, and each one contains what would normally be a standard souls-like mechanic. 
Blocking, for instance, is tied to a Seal that also lets you parry, dealing break damage to eventually make them vulnerable to a powerful riposte. Another Seal removes the ability to block but tightens the parry window, introducing greater risk for a greater reward by dishing out more break damage if your timing is perfect. This opens up the game's build variety, especially when combined with the titular Mortal Shells. Similar to the first game, you play as a faceless husk known as the Harbinger, a relatively weak entity that has the power to inhabit fallen warriors. There are eight Shells in total, and each one can be found at their character's final resting place, whether that's hunched over and impaled on a greatsword, hastily stuffed into a shallow grave, or displayed in a mausoleum beneath the Royal Keep. Every Shell adheres to a rigid character archetype with predetermined stats that can be upgraded but not changed. This might sound restrictive, but it allows for tangible differences in how each Shell plays–especially when factoring in their unique abilities–with variety coming from your choice of weapons, Seals, and Tarstones. 
I mostly played as Eredrim, a knight with the ability to lunge at enemies with a devastating shoulder bash that deals significant break damage. He also has a passive ability aptly named Executioner, allowing you to instantly execute enemies who are at low health. By performing ripostes, this ability also stacks, with each stack raising the low-health threshold at which enemies can be executed. If you like playing on the front foot, Eredrim is particularly satisfying to use, but the other Shells are no less interesting. Tiel is a thief who can turn invisible for a short duration, lunging out of the shadows to strike with a dagger. While any Shell can equip the relevant Seal to parry attacks, Tiel excels as a nimble character, with perfectly timed dodges turning you invisible and dealing stagger damage to the enemy. Sariel, on the other hand, fires parasitic thorns that hunt down nearby foes, nullifying their next melee attack while also inflicting Pain on Sariel himself. Pain affects your health bar, adding a grey portion that can be lost in a single hit or cured by dishing out melee damage. When Sariel has no Pain, a huge 50% of incoming damage becomes Pain. However, reaching the Pain limit lets you dodge faster, putting you in the role of a masochistic character who excels when it hurts the most. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHQXkfdhk7E Tarstones add another layer to the development of your build, unlocking everything from specific buffs to powerful special attacks. They can be found by exploring the world, completing dungeons, and defeating bosses, so once I had discovered enough, I eventually geared mine towards dishing out as much melee damage as humanly possible. With each Tarstone fully maxed out and upgraded, I increased my critical damage by 100%, raised my critical chance probability to 18%, and was guaranteed a critical hit every five attacks. It's an incredibly flexible system, creating a greater discrepancy between the usual strength or dexterity options and ensuring that build variety remains at the forefront of the game's ethos. With so many tools at your disposal, Mortal Shell 2 still manages to strike a decent balance with regard to its difficulty. For the most part, it's a challenging game, but one that hits the souls-like sweet spot where it rarely feels unfair. Deaths are typically your own fault, and there's always room to improve, both as a player and by upgrading your character. There are a couple of difficulty modifiers you can utilize as well, with a specific Seal making things easier at the cost of disabling Achievements, and another item that lets you increase the difficulty while also opening up a few areas that are otherwise locked. The fact that this isn't just a binary difficulty choice fits the genre, though disabling Achievements feels egregious, even if most of its contemporaries refuse to offer an easier alternative. 
The game's default challenge comes saddled with a few caveats, too. While it mostly feels fair, falling to your death is too common for my tastes. The entire open-world map is suspended in the air, so there are numerous areas where you can slip off the map, particularly when a lot of attacks will knock you several feet backward. I can place some of the blame for this misfortune at my own feet, but there were still dozens of situations where toppling off the side of a cliff felt cheap and frustrating. Dying more to fall damage than the game's own bosses is a travesty. This is partly due to the game's level design and partly because some of the bosses are overly simplistic in their attack patterns. It's a problem that afflicts mini-bosses more frequently than the game's headline foes, but it also doesn't help that the basic parry window is exceedingly generous. When you're fighting regular enemies, and typically dealing with more than one, this isn't much of an issue. It's just much more prominent when facing a mini-boss that's too predictable to be compelling. Aside from the abundance of dangerous ledges, Mortal Shell 2's open world is a fascinating place to explore. It's not as expansive as something like Elden Ring's The Lands Between–you won't find any vast open fields, for instance–but it's densely packed. Each area feels like a dedicated level from a more linear game, except they're all interconnected with more than one way in and out. 
Its castles and murky swamps can feel a tad derivative, but there are typically more than a few visual flourishes that stand out in even the most familiar locales. There's an abbey where the colors are muted to the point of looking almost monochrome, yet the red leaves wrapping around its cold, stone walls create this striking burst of color. Elsewhere, you'll find unsettling human teeth carved into cave walls, monolithic structures that punctuate the horizon, and what was once a picturesque village now plagued by rabid cultists. Material rewards are available for those who deign to explore, but the sights themselves are often a reward of their own. Mortal Shell 2 constantly surprised me, whether it was the mechanics behind a newly discovered Shell, the layered improvements to combat, a bulbous monstrosity of a boss fight that was more mouth than anything else, or the ways you can tinker with a build and make it wholly your own. It stumbles at times and could use some fine-tuning to really hone its balance issues, but even if it can be irritating or too simplistic at times, these moments are overshadowed by its unmistakable strengths...
For many fighting game fans, It's impossible to look at Marvel Tokon and not think of Marvel Vs. Capcom. The crossover series defined the crossover tag genre, from X-Men Vs. Street Fighter in 1996 to Ultimate Marvel Vs. Capcom 3 in 2011. For some who didn't read comics as a kid, myself included, these games were the introduction to the X-Men, Avengers, and other Marvel faces that fought alongside Capcom's top characters. With MvC dormant outside of a recent collection, Arc System Works has swooped in with Marvel Tokon: Fighting Souls, its own take on the Marvel tag fighter idea. The result is a wonderful fighting system and flashy new look that quickly establishes its own identity, one that is worthy of standing with the giants of the past--although the PC version isn't as super as the heroes in the game. Fantastic four Marvel Tokon's four-on-four gameplay is its most radical change to the tag format, but not for the reasons I first expected. Previous experience would suggest that each player would choose four fighters, each with their own life bar, and the first player to knock out all four of the opposing player's team members would win. That's not how Tokon works; instead, each of the four heroes shares a single life bar, and the first player to win three-out-of-five rounds takes the match. This is a fundamental and ingenious shift in how the player interacts with their team; one player could choose to keep their best fighter on point and select their assisting heroes to fit that fighter's style, or they could decide to learn four characters and incorporate tags into their strategy. It allows newer fighting game players to ease into the tag format, while entrenched players can immediately lean into the more advanced elements of the system. For a genre that sometimes struggles to find the balance in catering to new and veteran players alike, Arc System Works nailed it with Tokon's fighting scheme. 
Marvel Tokon Both approaches are impacted by another interesting design choice. Though you choose four fighters before a match, you only start the match with two active: a point character and one assist character. The other two assists have to be unlocked during the match, either by initiating a wall break (a move which slams an opponent into the boundary, "breaking" it and sending the character to another arena) and "assembling" your fighters in other parts of the stage, or by losing a round and gaining a hero as the next round begins. While "not having access to all selected fighters" sounds like it could be detrimental to the experience, Tokon once again exceeds my expectations. Limiting heroes is a form of balancing each match; Round 3 could start with one player up 2-0 with only two characters and the other down 0-2 with a full team. Giving the 0-2 player access to all four assists allows them to be more versatile in their approach and perhaps stage a comeback. However, in doing so, that player with the early lead slowly assembles their team, and if the match becomes 2-2, it's a full-strength slugfest in the final round. Every match is different, yet equally thrilling; I am astounded at what Arc was able to do here. Controlling each fighter is simplified too, as executing special moves adapts the Super Smash Bros. "button press and directional input" approach. There are some more advanced inputs for those who care to learn them, but the first time you pick up a controller, two buttons will let you perform a unique move. Assists work the same way, but by holding L2 when the assist emerges, you can switch to that character immediately and continue the combo. I feel like the words "easy to learn, hard to master" were plastered all over Arc System Works's Yokohama office, because that's the prevailing sense I get from every aspect of Tokon's approach, and it's tremendously successful at it. Choose your fighter The initial roster features 20 characters, which is small by tag fighter standards--Marvel vs. Capcom 3, for example, had 36 playable fighters out of the box--but it's a number that further contributes to that aforementioned balance. New players have a more manageable pool of character matchups to learn, while veteran players can find their favorites more quickly and move on to honing their skills. The roster is a mix of expected fan favorites and few interesting pulls, though I would say very few of the selections are truly unexpected. Captain America, Iron Man, Hulk, Magneto, and Doctor Doom are all here, while Carnage, Star-Lord, Blade, and Loki make their Marvel fighting game debut. The most obscure pull, if I had to choose, is Danger--I didn't even know the X-Men's training facility became sentient, so Marvel fighting games continue to introduce me to new characters. Deadpool deserves a paragraph all to himself. While his inclusion is not a surprise due to his massive popularity, the way Arc System Works has incorporated his fourth-wall-breaking nature is a master class. The character is a tribute to fighting game history in character form, and every match has me pointing at the screen like a Once Upon a Time in Hollywood meme. Some of the references are obvious--yes, that's Scorpion's spear from Mortal Kombat, everyone knows that--but I was amazed at just how deep the well of references goes. I doubt many newer players know what Kaiser Knuckle is, but if they see that one Deadpool pose and look it up, then mission accomplished, Arc System Works. My personal favorite characters are Peni Parker, as I really enjoy her ability to fill the arena with drones as a distraction before moving in for big damage, and Ms. Marvel, whose Dhalsim-like stretchy appendages mean that my opponent is never truly safe anywhere on the screen. Black Panther (the Shuri version this time; sorry, T'Challa) has also proven to be fun, but the one fighter I can't figure out is Green Goblin; I know the glider is a big part of his approach, but I haven't yet unlocked the best ways to do that. I suspect I'll learn the hard way from some player online soon enough. Rules of battle Tokon offers a lot of ways to play, in both single-player and online multiplayer, and while mode selection at first seems a bit limited, Arc System Works once again avoids a regular fighting game pitfall by packing these modes with enough activities that they don't feel shallow. Episodes mode tells five different stories, one for each of the four teams featured in Tokon's trailers, and each one animated by a different artist. I didn't need more than an hour to complete each one, and they tell the overarching story of Tokon in fun ways. The other main single-player offering is All-Star Arena, which is split into two sections: Arena and Survival. Arena is the closest Tokon gets to offering a traditional "arcade" experience: You'll choose a team, choose a path, and then battle against random teams before getting to the end of your chosen path. Survival is a gauntlet of up to 100 battles, with health regeneration between each match and superpowered "boss" fighters at certain milestones. Both of these are fine ways to hone your skills against CPU teams of varying difficulty, but there isn't anything here that reinvents the wheel. 
Marvel Tokon Arcadia Rumble takes a different approach, as it mixes standard matches with a small arena-style challenge where players roam around a small area, collecting items to earn points and power up their characters for normal battles, and whoever has the most points wins. It's enjoyable enough in small bursts, and it makes for a cool party-style experience when a group wants something different from the ordinary online experience, but it didn't grab me as much as I'd hoped. I'd rather skip right to the fighting; the item-searching part just feels extraneous. The online experience also checks the usual boxes, with ranked matches, casual matches, and custom private lobbies all on offer. There's also an Open Lobby, where you explore a chibi-style version of Tokon's world with customizable avatars and arcade machines where you challenge other players. Exploring the open lobby is neat, as there are some little minigames to find outside of the normal Tokon matches, but the real thrill is matching up with another player and throwing down on one of the open arcade machines. Technically, all of the machines could fill up, but I have yet to see that myself. I played a handful of matches in each offering, joining up with some friends in a custom room, challenged random players in ranked and casual matches, and explored the Open Lobby. Online connections were strong thanks to the rollback netcode under the hood, and I rarely saw any technical hiccups at all while playing on PlayStation 5. It's here where the PC version of Tokon must be mentioned, as its launch has been, to put it lightly, disastrous. Connection issues, choppy play both online and offline, and other issues have plagued PC players since the game's launch, and while patches have been released that are beginning to alleviate the issues, the troubles they experienced cannot be discounted. As mentioned, I reviewed the game on PS5, so I did not experience those problems for myself, but until those issues are fully resolved, PC players will continue to have a much different experience than I did. If Arc System Works can turn it around, the wait will have been worth it. Marvel Tokon: Fighting Souls feels like a homecoming. Marvel heroes and villains are once again beating each other up in tag-based battles, and I am loving the experience of jumping in and figuring out new strategies. Rather than lean on old tropes, Arc System Works elected to put its own spin on the idea, and what they've cooked up sets a new bar for future tag fighters. Once the technical issues for PC are ironed out, there's a bright future ahead. With Marvel Tokon, Arc System Works has created the next foundational title for modern fighting games...
When you start a new game in Game Freak’s Beast of Reincarnation, a prompt asks if you’d like to play in cinematic mode. This locks the cutscene frame rate to 24 frames per second, but, understandably, leaves the gameplay as is. When I first saw this during my 90-minute preview session last month, it felt like a bold statement from Game Freak. Pokemon, Game Freak’s multigenerational smash-hit, can be described as many things, but cinematic it certainly is not. Unfortunately, aside from its flashy combat and a few cutscenes, Beast of Reincarnation isn't really cinematic, either. Flat performances and robotic animations undermine its fascinating story, bland environments sour its beautiful art direction, and an overall lack of polish hampers its intense combat. Though there are aspects of Beast of Reincarnation that I adored, for each one of them there’s always something that holds it back. Beast of Reincarnation takes place exactly 2,000 years in the future, in 4026. After civilization was nearly wiped out by a phenomenon called The Blight, an infection that causes humans and animals alike to sprout vegetation, humanity transferred their souls into machines called golems to quell the spread. This inadvertently conquered death, but the relocated souls eventually deteriorated, leaving corrupted golems in their wake. The wildlife didn’t fare much better. Infected beasts called Malefacts wander the ruins of Japan attacking everything and everyone in their path. There’s a captivating history here that weaves together multiple science-fiction subgenres to create an intriguing world. The creatures that wander the wasteland feel biopunk-inspired, the aforementioned golem backstory is pulled from the cyberpunk genre, and the landscapes and architecture would feel at home in solarpunk fiction. Despite its many inspirations, Beast of Reincarnation’s world feels distinct. https://youtu.be/erQ4lIW4Yo8?si=tohRNx3gTrRzvey2 This, in part, is due to the art direction. The futuristic technology juxtaposed alongside the overgrown ruins of Japan creates some memorable vistas that reflect the world’s alluring history. Emma, Beast of Reincarnation’s stoic protagonist, represents that fusion of technology and nature succinctly with her design. Her angular monochrome outfit is punctuated by a braid adorned with flowers that grows longer as she becomes stronger. It’s a nice touch that reflects your progress in her character design. The plot centers around Emma and her dog Koo as they travel across Japan to reach the capital and hunt down the titular Beast of Reincarnation. Emma and Koo’s journey is frequently halted as they’re tasked with taking down a Nushi in each area--powerful Malefacts that spread The Blight. Each of these semi-open areas share a similar structure: You arrive, battle your way through the area, explore a little, and fight the boss. There are optional enemies to dispatch and loot to find, but these locales start to blend together after a while. Most of them consist of open fields with tall, green grass. As you get closer to the capital, those fields will be replaced with dry deserts. There are some interesting nooks hidden around each map, but it feels like a lot of wasted space. There’s really not much to say about Emma. She’s a vessel, meaning she can absorb the power from enemies she’s defeated, but she is devoid of personality. She’s been told to fight and that’s exactly what she does. There are lore reasons for her languid disposition, but it doesn’t change the fact that nearly every interaction she has falls flat. In one scene, she robotically asks one of her traveling companions what love is. Her companion dryly explains that love is what happens when you miss people. This is made worse by deadpan voice work, static animations, and awkward editing that often leaves seconds of dead air between dialogue. The actors' performances are a little easier to stomach in Japanese, but the characters never escape what's largely dull writing. 
Emma sprints through explosions as she chases down an enemy. This isn’t relegated to a few scenes, either. The entire script lacks subtext and nuance. Frequently, you return to your mobile base of operations, called a Cleanse Walker, to chat with your teammates. A young girl named Kagura who Emma saves early in the story tends to your base by cooking meals and managing resources. She happens to be just as dull as Emma, making their shared conversations painful to witness as the two emotionlessly talk about food or journals. There’s no energy behind their performances, the camera work lacks any creative direction, and they are always confined to the grey walls of the Cleanse Walker. Ironically, the best character in the game doesn’t talk. Koo, Emma’s canine companion, is fierce and adorable. In one moment he’s lovingly looking up at Emma as they explore the world, and in the next he’s ripping out the titanium throat of a golem. He whimpers, barks, and even collects items for Emma. He’s an endearing companion with some charming animations, but Emma and Koo’s relationship never really develops throughout the game. We get some backstory here and there, but I never felt like they were forging a bond. Emma just doesn’t seem all that interested in Koo for most of the game. In one scene, a character suggests that Emma do something nice for Koo and after some consideration, she suggests petting him. Once again, there are lore reasons for her listlessness, which I won’t spoil, but it doesn’t change the fact that these scenes are so dull. 
Emma staring at the floor with blood and dirt on her face. If there’s anything in Beast of Reincarnation that can be described as “cinematic,” it’s the combat. The parry-heavy skirmishes are fantastic. Enemies are deadly and aggressive, and can cut Emma down in a few hits. While it isn’t nearly as hard as something like From Software’s Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice or Neowiz’s Lies of P, Beast of Reincarnation can be tough–especially if you aren’t using the full range of Emma and Koo’s abilities. The fundamentals are there. Emma’s slashes feel weighty, the clang of parrying a attack is gratifying, and her lethal blows are vicious. Like Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice, enemies have a health bar and a stagger bar. Deflecting attacks and pressuring enemies will fill up the stagger bar. Once it’s full, Emma can unleash a powerful attack that instantly kills a basic enemy. There is a dodge and a block too, but mastering the parry window is far more rewarding. Alongside Emma’s basic attacks, she has unlockable skills that can be deployed mid-combo for dazzling effect. These skills are themed around different blossoms and successfully pulling off one of these moves results in massive flowers blooming on the battlefield. Generally, these combos do significantly more damage than basic attacks, but they require some windup and leave Emma vulnerable. This means you need to study an enemy's patterns to find an opening. Combat, especially later in the game, is a spectacle. Flowers and trees spring up around Emma as she cuts down foes with style. 
Emma taking down a boss with a flame katana. What separates Beast of Reincarnation’s combat from similar action games is Koo. By pressing Y or Triangle, time stops, and Emma can issue commands. These commands cost FP, which is accumulated by successfully parrying attacks. In order to efficiently take down tougher enemies and bosses, you need to be aggressive with Emma while juggling Koo’s FP and commands. Some of these moves may also synergize with Emma’s skills. For example, Koo has a command that can bind or stun some enemies for a brief period of time, giving Emma just enough time to follow up with one of her powerful combos. The near-constant stream of new combos, abilities, commands, and weapons kept the combat fresh throughout my entire playthrough. It’s almost a little overwhelming as Emma and Koo’s individual skill trees grow larger and larger throughout the story, but I never felt compelled to unlock everything. Each branch and root within Emma and Koo’s skill trees supports a different playstyle, and part of the fun is mixing and matching these different abilities to fit into your playstyle. While the parry-first combat is at the center of every approach, there are dozens of ancillary strategies that you can lean into. For example, I heavily invested skill points into Emma’s Sakura Blade Art, which happens to be one of the longest combos in the game. Given its windup, I prioritized Koo commands that would bind enemies. Max Blumenthal, a video producer on staff, focused more on Emma’s Kiku Blade Art, which has a much shorter windup and more range. He also invested more heavily in Koo’s commands, finding ways to chain his attacks to great effect. 
Emma and Koo hiding from a Nushi. This all comes together during boss fights. These special Malefacts, known as Nushi, tower over Emma and Koo. They are based on real-world animals that have been infected by the Blight. Root tendrils hang off of them and giant flowers sprout from their body. They are beautiful and terrifying. Most of these bosses have two phases, and pushed me to conserve resources and tap into both Emma and Koo’s many abilities. There’s an engaging back and forth of reacting to the boss’s attacks and applying pressure whenever you find an opening. Sprinkling in commands from Koo can extend those openings or exploit a weakness. Some bosses are tricky but none felt insurmountable thanks to Emma and Koo’s wide array of skills and commands. The problem is that most of these bosses are reused in the second half of the game. They are a higher level, but their attack patterns are nearly identical. This makes most of the high stakes encounters in later areas a cake walk. I don’t necessarily mind refighting bosses, but it robs these fights of any tension and opportunity for further experimentation. I know which attacks to counter and when to use one of Emma’s skill arts before the introductory cutscene has finished. As stylish as the combat is, it lacks the polish of its inspirations. The camera can be unruly, timing perfect dodges feels inconsistent, and Emma’s traversal maneuvers can lead to some awkward situations. Where the camera struggles the most is against large bosses. In order to pressure a Nushi, you need to get in close, but when you’re stuck under their legs, it’s tough to tell when they are swinging and if they will even hit you. Occasionally they’ll fire off an attack that can only be dodged, and if you time your dodge right, time will slow down, allowing you to counter attack. Nailing this timing feels good, but it didn’t always behave consistently. Sometimes I’d dodge well before an attack and it would trigger the slowdown, and other times I would time it right before an attack and I’d still get hit. 
Koo standing in a patch of sunlight. You can also get around enemy attacks with Emma’s hair. By holding the jump button or right trigger, you can extend Emma’s root-like hair to reach new heights and cross gaps. These abilities can be used to close the distance between an enemy, get out of harm's way, or kick off aerial combos and attacks. It’s fun to weave these traversal skills into her moves, but they don’t always work as intended. At times her hair wouldn’t extend all the way, and other times I wouldn’t be able to grapple onto the endpoint to pull her forward. These issues are minor, but they add up and leave the combat feeling messy at times. Part of that messiness stems from Beast of Reincarnation’s inconsistent performance and visual bugs. I played a majority of the game on a PC equipped with an RTX 4080, and I noticed some micro-stutters and hitches at 1080p and 1440p. I can’t say how well it fares at higher resolutions, because it wouldn’t let me change resolution settings unless I set it to full screen--a setting that doesn’t seem to exist for me in the current build. Based on our testing, the PlayStation 5 and PlayStation 5 Pro seems to be the best option while the Xbox Series X has severe frame rate issues that Game Freak is aware of and intends to address before its release. Beast of Reincarnation is an ambitious game that often overextends itself. The lack of polish taints its versatile combat, the mundane performances and wearisome dialogue suffocate its tantalizing story, and the uninteresting areas drag down strong art direction. That isn’t to say Beast of Reincarnation is a total miss, though. The combat, despite my nitpicks, feels and looks great when you’re chaining together combos and deflecting ferocious attacks. And aside from the cutscenes, my 25-hour adventure didn’t feel like a slog--I was eager to improve Emma and Koo’s skills to take down tougher enemies. But everything surrounding that core loop falls flat. Despite Beast of Reincarnation’s enticing mix of high-quality inspirations, it fails to reach the same heights as those experiences...
In the three years since Big Walk was announced, I've heard it referred to as a co-op walking sim, a puzzle-adventure game, and friendslop. After spending 20+ hours in the world of the Australian Outback-inspired game, it's no easier to succinctly define it, because it's not actually like anything else. By inventively stripping down the medium to its most essential parts, it invites novices and experts alike to build it back up from scratch, coloring in its mysterious world with their friends by their side. We need a new word for whatever kind of game Big Walk really is, but here's one for now: unforgettable. Big Walk is a game about walking and talking with friends, played in first-person for groups of 2-12 players. Embodying vaguely humanoid characters--think multicolored snowmen with long noses and noodly appendages--you and your friends will trek across a vast and open island, hunting down nameless MacGuffins by way of solving an abundance of inventive puzzles together. This intentionally basic setup belies the depth you'll discover the more time you spend on its island. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWfg9iLq55c&pp=0gcJCaMLAYcqIYzv Before you head off, you'll convene in a starting area that looks a bit like a playground or a children's gym, full of buttons to push; vibrant, sometimes bouncy objects to pick up and kick; and climbable surfaces. It's here where you'll learn most everything you need to know about what you can do, like all the gestures you can make with your body, how to use proximity chat to your aid, and how to deal with the physics of the world. For example, you may note how falling a great distance doesn't mean taking fall damage, but it may mean you drop what you were holding and lose it in a forest until the sun comes up. The first four puzzles act as a tutorial. In a more limited section of the island, you'll seek them out deep in the woods, high atop hills, or along beaches, work together to solve them, and unlock their corresponding MacGuffins, then place them in a console that unlocks virtually the entire rest of the island all at once. From there, it's your group's call to make, and your path through the world won't be the same as any other. Unlike Peak, which the game has often been compared to, Big Walk's island is handcrafted, not randomly generated, and it shows. Every inch of the world feels intentional, from the switchbacks down the mountainsides meant to give you the hint of a far-off landmark, to the radio stations you can come across, each of them playing their own special song that you can carry with you if you're in the mood for some music on your journey. Because there are so many puzzles, sometimes you'll even take aspects of one puzzle to solve others, and the game offers clever environmental hints when this is required. In small ways, puzzles change depending on your group size. The host maintains the save data across sessions, allowing players to join or drop when they may need to, but different versions of the island exist for parties of two, three, or four-plus, with slight tweaks to each puzzle to accommodate the number of people in a group. 
No matter your team size, Big Walk adjusts to give you an appropriate challenge. Some puzzles will be a bit easier with more people putting their heads together, while others will be much more chaotic; one of the first puzzles my group found was basically a basketball hoop with big bouncy lights as the ball, and if you don't easily tame a group of a dozen players, you'll all be knocking each other's shots away from the basket until someone takes command and establishes a turn order. There's a remarkable clarity to the visual language in Big Walk that's conveyed right at the start, but everything else there is to know about it is built on a foundation you make together with your friends, establishing your own vocabulary and body language in such an effortlessly cool, intuitive way that so many other games seem afraid of. Playing with two of my kids, we took to calling the dozens of MacGuffins "eggy things" because of their somewhat egg-like shape, and we called our characters "walklings." As the hazy semblance of a story unfolded, we made sense of it in our own words. Big Walk clearly hopes each group does this. That's why it fills its world with fundamental video game objects and objectives, like puzzles and their rewards, but adds nothing definitive beyond that. Big Walk's world speaks for itself. There are no quest markers or on-screen prompts, and no stamina or health bars to manage. Every aspect of the game is diegetic, and every discovery is of your own making. There's no lore dump or explainer as to who you are or why you're solving puzzles on an island that only your group seems to inhabit. Across its realistic-looking landscape are many more cartoonishly colored structures of all shapes and sizes that stick out by contrast, and developer House House trusts each friend group to carve out their own adventure through the world, letting their curiosity guide them and building on shared learning hour after hour. 
Getting a bird's-eye view of the island reveals just how much there is to see and do. Some puzzles demand you work closely together side by side, timing your actions just right or fidgeting with buttons and points of view, while others demand you split up, sometimes for long stretches at a time and across great distances. In those instances, finding each other afterward is its own sort of puzzle to solve. Many puzzles will inhibit your ability to communicate, like one where a player is locked behind soundproof glass and must relay information to the others that only the lone walkling has. There are probably only about six to eight core concepts the game focuses on, but each time House House returns to an idea, it adds clever new wrinkles. In one of the game's most devilishly designed puzzles, I was forced to wear a helmet that blinded me, leaving my group to guide me across a treacherous obstacle course with only their vocal callouts. Hours later on our journey, this same dastardly helmet showed up again, but with new rules that demanded I, as the helmet-wearer again, carry the right objects to their intended corners of an area, which meant our group needed to figure out which were the right objects in the first place, before I could even begin to follow their vocal instructions. I can think of a few puzzles that were quite daunting, especially with a seven-year-old in the group, but none frustrated us. Often, we'd climb to a mountaintop to get a lay of the land, head off toward some vibrant structure in the middle of a wooded area, and fidget with its movable parts until we got a sense of what we needed to do. Through clear collaboration and our own invented language, we'd achieve success--sometimes quickly, in just a few minutes, but other times after much more head-scratching for puzzles that took us 20 or more minutes to solve. Every time we'd solve a puzzle, my kids and I would rejoice with a chant: "Egg-y thing! Egg-y thing!" while throwing our walklings' hands into the air together. Though the game is light on traditional story, it feels like describing many of its amazing puzzles is a type of spoiler. The ritual of genuine discovery, followed by cooperative experimentation, and finally, shared elation, is the magic of Big Walk, doled out with the completion of each puzzle, but even more often in the in-between moments when you're just chatting as you explore the outback. For a few hours every night, for about two weeks, this was our beloved ceremony together. We helped each other get our bearings, found each other when we'd gotten lost and separated, and commended each other when one of us would crack the solution to a puzzle wide open. 
The way Big Walk nudges players to work together in tight-knit ways is a recurring bit of genius. Big Walk has a defined ending and isn't meant to be played forever, though with a different group of friends, it does retain some appeal. When we weren't playing it, we were talking about it, trying to solve some puzzles we'd set aside if they'd stumped us for too long, or crafting theories about the massive black orb that waited beyond a wall we couldn't (yet?) access. It's a game of few words, opting instead to give players a massive canvas on which to create their own story together. For a handful of special evenings, the island was our home away from home. With every few puzzles, major new rewards become available, like a train that moves around the island or a giant map room to help plot your travels. You may also stumble upon totally missable shortcuts, reinforcing that your triumphs are yours to celebrate and not based on any HUD arrow you've followed. You'll come upon helpful handheld items, like walkie-talkies, flashlights, and megaphones, but as best I can recall, such items tend to make some puzzles easier, but they're rarely required, so it becomes a question of, for example, leaving the puzzle to find a pair of walkie-talkies or solving a puzzle without them even if it would clearly help a lot. Inventory space is limited to what you can carry in your hands, on your belt, or in your backpack, and anything you're not holding can't even be accessed on your own. You'll need a buddy to take that backpack off of you if you want to consult the paper map you may have stashed inside of it. This seemingly small design decision really speaks to Big Walk's main idea. First imagined during the COVID pandemic, House House sought to make a game that brings people closer to one another, to get them talking and having meaningful interactions. For me, it worked wonders. It's not often my kids and I can all play a game together with the same enthusiasm, as the taste preferences among a 37-, 13-, and seven-year-old don't tend to align. But Big Walk offers a gameplay loop that feels universal in its appeal. It deconstructs video games into their most foundational verbs: discover, experiment, prevail. The context of a mysterious island and the silly-looking characters you play as surely enhance the experience, but it's the simplistic gameplay loop taken to a depth that is exciting but never so involved as to leave some players behind that makes it so easily beloved. 
Though it's not as slapstick-funny as some games with shared DNA, Big Walk definitely has a comedic side. Though it leaves room for goofing off, Big Walk doesn't have the cadence of a friendslop game, where the purposely janky sabotage of your friends' best intentions is much of the fun. Some failures can be amusing, and the game as a whole definitely has an understated comedic tone befitting of its Australian dev studio, but the true highlight is the shared joys of exploring the world and overcoming its obstacles through thoughtful communication and teamwork. There's a lot more stopping and thinking in Big Walk than perhaps its title suggests. You'll do plenty of walking, but you'll do even more talking, and if you're playing with friends or family you love and appreciate, it's bound to be a deeply rewarding experience. It's also a well-polished game, with the only bug I encountered serving as an accidentally hilarious moment--when my daughter's walkling got stuck in a folding chair and we carried her around for a while like she was Cleopatra. The only noticeable knock on the game is one that demands some self-policing. Without using Big Walk's proximity chat, you'd turn its magic off like flipping a switch. Using Steam or Discord chat, for example, would act like a cheat code, circumventing a puzzle's intentional friction, such as when proximity chat is intended to fail at times, blocking you from easily talking to your group. So it's really on you to choose not to do that, or else accept that you've opted to make the game worse for yourself. This is where it shares the most in common with more typical friendslop games like Peak and Lethal Company. The element of proximity chat does a lot of heavy lifting to make Big Walk shine brightly, so refusing to engage with that feature would be like playing a horror game with the lights on; you can still enjoy it, but you'll be holding it back from reaching the height of its powers. 
The journey each group goes on will feature similar puzzles, but very different experiences overall. Big Walk's incredible focus culminates in a final stretch of puzzles that encapsulates everything you'll have seen and done until that point in a genuinely mind-blowing way. My kids and I spent over a dozen hours together solving many difficult puzzles and inventing a language which we often relied on, only for the final iteration of the game's core concepts to be so slight in its adjustments yet so awesomely rewarding in its execution. It dared us to put together everything we've taught each other, recalling our entire journey. I was utterly floored by the way this area masterfully fuses the game's repeated actions of experimenting and exploring with the undercurrent of its emotional beats that purposely rise to the surface toward the very end of the game. I loved every second of Big Walk, and this final act cemented it as one of the best co-op games I've played in years. As if that weren't enough to land Big Walk as an obvious Game of the Year contender, the very last scene of the game sneak-attacked me with a surprisingly bittersweet moment that left me glossy-eyed. I wouldn't dare spoil this part for you, but I'm sure it'll have a similar effect even if you're not playing with your kids. Big Walk takes fundamental and timeless video game concepts--obstacles and incentives for clearing them--and, through an intensely focused co-op experience, shapes them into something singularly rewarding, supremely mysterious, and totally unforgettable...
There's something that almost feels sacrilegious about playing Halo on a PlayStation console. The sci-fi shooter franchise feels quintessentially Xbox, and while you've been able to play Halo: The Master Chief Collection on PC with a DualSense controller, there's something extra odd with playing a version of Halo covered in a PlayStation-oriented UI and seeing PlayStation Trophies pop with every completed in-game accomplishment. And yet, despite how weird it is to be playing Halo on a PlayStation 5, it's still Halo. And so it's really fun. Not to be confused with Halo: Combat Evolved, Halo: Campaign Evolved (because why would they make the title acronyms different and make things easier for me?) is a remake of the very first Halo, and it's also the first Halo game to be playable on one of Sony's consoles. Unlike the 2011 remaster Halo: Combat Evolved Anniversary--which provided a graphical upgrade and added co-op gameplay and brand-new collectibles like lore-filled terminals and gameplay-modifying skulls--Campaign Evolved is a much more drastic transformation. 
In the first Halo game, protagonist John-117, aka the Master Chief, awakens aboard a starship after it's been attacked by an alien alliance known as the Covenant. As a super-soldier called a Spartan, Master Chief is tasked with escaping the doomed ship with its artificial intelligence, Cortana, to a nearby moon-sized ring that humanity has never seen before. Cortana quickly learns that this ring, referred to as Halo, is important to the Covenant, and Master Chief sets out to learn what it is and why the Covenant want it, while also helping the various human survivors who made it to the ring's surface and are contending with Covenant forces. Developed in Unreal Engine 5, Campaign Evolved's visuals are a huge jump from 2001's Combat Evolved. And as the name suggests, the actual story campaign has changed too. There are three brand-new missions that take place one year prior to the events of the main story, the levels in the main story have been redesigned in certain sections in terms of both layout and mission objective, and brand-new cutscenes further flesh out the characters and stories with references that longtime fans will recognize are now early teasers for Halo 2. 
The gameplay has been overhauled too, implementing changes to make the first Halo play more like Master Chief's later adventures. Some of these changes radically alter how it feels to play the first Halo--like the ability to sprint, or aim down sights on all weapons--while others feel much smaller. A mechanic like vehicle hijacking was not added to Halo until the second game in the series, so its addition in Campaign Evolved is technically new, for example. But vehicle hijacking doesn't feel like an extraordinary game-changer because the number of times you have the opportunity to use it are few and far between. While the much larger (and visually gorgeous) environments, grander firefight arenas, and newly added "hold-the-line" encounters make for an altogether longer game to both explore and fight through, playing Campaign Evolved feels like the memory I have of playing Combat Evolved. The changes to the story and gameplay are noticeable to anyone who has familiarity with the first Halo, but the remake's adjustments don't feel like a complete departure from its source material. 
If anything, Campaign Evolved makes the story of Combat Evolved feel more in line with the lore and overall story developed in the games, books, and animated series that were released after the first Halo. Everything is just better connected--bringing the Brutes into Halo 1 erases the confusion as to why they're in Halo Reach and Halo 2, but not the game that canonically takes place in between them, for instance. And Captain Keyes' daughter, Miranda, is also now mentioned multiple times, setting up her in-game introduction in Halo 2. The original Combat Evolved doesn't acknowledge her existence because she didn't exist when that game was made. But she's now a major part of Halo 2 and Halo 3 (as well as several books) so it makes sense that her dad would at least talk about her in Halo 1. Are any of these details crucial to the story told in the first Halo? No. Do these changes make the overall story of Master Chief's first game better flow into the second? Yes. 
The changes are so much better that Campaign Evolved feels like the new gold standard for playing through the first Halo--I'd recommend this over Combat Evolved Anniversary. Every change feels like an improvement on what came before. While the three new prequel missions don't rise to the same dramatic highs that make the main story of Combat Evolved so memorable, their inclusion does improve the overall experience and I recommend anyone who picks up Campaign Evolved play these new missions first (the game counts them as a separate story that you can choose to play at any point). 
These new missions see Master Chief and fan-favorite Sergeant Johnson infiltrate a Covenant ship in an effort to find intel on the alien threat's main base of operations. The duo have fantastic back-and-forth that builds up their relationship in a way that Combat Evolved's story simply doesn't have time for because they're split up almost immediately, and even when they do reunite, they then both go off on their separate missions. Combat Evolved's story is a largely solo affair of Chief doing his best to help his human allies as he moves from place to place across the Halo ring, and Campaign Evolved remains faithful to that lonely-feeling journey despite supporting co-op. So having a chance to see Chief interact with a friend does a lot of the heavy lifting in characterizing him as an actual person. You see that he has a sense of humor and is fiercely loyal to others (aspects that aren't really explored until Halo 2). And seeing just how, daresay, shy he is with marines he doesn't really know brings the whole psychological toll of being a Spartan to the forefront of his character. That's something you don't really get at all unless you read the books, watch the intro or closing cinematics of Halo 4, or play Halo Infinite. 
These three prequel missions also just have a very Halo Reach feel (there's even a mission in space that isn't all that great in comparison to other sci-fi space battle games, but plays well enough to be a good time). The horrifying threat of the Flood, the mystique of the Forerunners, and the drama of AI rampancy feel so far away. In these missions, it's all about the ongoing galactic war between humanity's scrappiness and an alien threat's technological superiority. As Chief and Johnson do their best to keep each other motivated, navigate a Covenant nature preserve in which the aliens hunt human prisoners for sport, and gaze down upon a planet that has been transformed into glass after undergoing an orbital plasma cannon bombardment, you can just feel it: Humanity is losing. And unless they get a miracle, they'll go extinct. These missions lead so well into the main story of Campaign Evolved, establishing that humanity is on the backfoot. My one major qualm with these new prequel missions is that they introduce two new characters: a new Covenant prophet and a new human fireteam leader. Neither are very fleshed out, beyond "evil scientist is evil" and "rough and tough marine," and that feels like such a missed opportunity. Chief meets several prophets across the Halo games, and fights alongside tons of humanity's soldiers. Given how well these prequel missions flesh out Chief and Johnson's relationship, they could have done the same for Chief and an existing prophet or human ally. Instead they introduce new characters but don't have the time to give either one enough time to breath and evolve into nuanced individuals. 
These two characters are not so bad that they ruin the story of these prequel missions, but they both feel like sci-fi tropes. Admittedly, Halo is filled with sci-fi tropes, but it also has some fantastic characters. So whenever a couple of duds pop up, they really stick out for how poorly characterized they are. Additionally, Campaign Evolved doesn't quite figure out checkpoints. The game's automatic checkpoints seem to trigger for a variety of reasons: reaching a specific spot in a level, killing a certain number of enemies in an area, leaving combat entirely, or some combination of the three. The logic for what counts and what doesn't isn't super consistent and seems to shift parameters moment-to-moment, leading to irritating setbacks--when it's not abundantly clear why getting defeated in one lengthy fight sends you all the way back to the beginning of it, while a defeat in the fight that had just occurred prior only sent you back a few seconds, it can feel like the checkpoint system is finicky at best and unfair at worst. This is a problem in both the main story and the new prequel missions, though I noticed it a lot more in the latter than the former. It's not so bad that I ever wanted to put the game down in frustration, but it's certainly annoying whenever it happens to pop up, especially if you're playing on one of the more challenging difficulties, like Heroic or Legendary. 
These issues aside, however, Halo: Campaign Evolved is awesome. And that's not surprising, simply because Halo: Combat Evolved is a fantastic game. There's a reason this story is a classic. Its explosive opening chapter plunges immediately into a series of desperate, high-action firefights that repeatedly reward your precise aim and strategic battle awareness with the sensation of being a heroic super-soldier. Humanity's weapons punch through flesh, while the Covenant's alien firearms and explosives satisfyingly melt enemy shields and paint the walls and floors with purple-blue plasma. For lack of a better word, the orchestral score is perfect, and I envy you if this will be your first time hearing it. And the main story's abrupt shift from a straightforward war between two civilizations into a desperate race by both sides to escape and contain a terrifying new threat that neither can handle is still as tense as it was back in 2001. It's still an odd sensation to be playing a Halo game on a PlayStation console. If you had asked teenage Jordan--the one who spent hundreds upon hundreds of hours laughing alongside their friends in Halo 3 and Halo Reach online multiplayer--whether Halo would ever make its way to a Sony console, they'd have told you it was impossible. Yet, here we are. And 25 years later, Halo: Combat Evolved's story is still really, really good...
Splatoon is a Nintendo series that I've enjoyed well enough, but fleetingly. Even with solid shooting mechanics and a playful gimmick revolving around quickly traversing paint-soaked battlefields, the competitive multiplayer often failed to hold my interest beyond a few weeks. Splatoon Raiders isn't the first time the series has attempted single-player, as each previous game would have a brief story campaign. But it is the first time Nintendo has built a whole game around single-player, and the looter shooter approach works so well that I hope it marks a new beginning for Splatoon that can live alongside the multiplayer games. In a lot of ways, it's easy to imagine how Splatoon Raiders came together. It uses a lot of the basic structure of a regular Splatoon game, like varied weapon types and Salmonid enemies. Even its main heroes, the members of the band Deep Cut, hail from Splatoon 3. Yet Splatoon Raiders rearranges all these familiar parts into a new shape that is best summarized by a quote found near the beginning of the game: "All that matters now is the loot!" Instead of splatting your fellow squid kids and competing to get the most ink coverage, you're taking on a series of PvE challenges. Some of these involve quickly gathering Power Eggs on a timer while others have you roaming a map gathering crystals to power your drilling machine, but the core goal remains the same: defeat Salmonids and get loot. It's simple but it works. Instead of competing to cover the ground with ink, your own ink color (and custom character accents) changes from stage to stage, while your Salmonid enemies are consistently spewing a sickly yellow-green goo. Returning Splatoon fans will find a lot of familiarity here. Your core weapons, like shooters, splatanas, and dualies, are all here, as well as some weapons that make less sense in this format. The roller was my mainstay in traditional competitive Splatoon games, when I would try to help my team with maximum ink coverage, but it's much less useful while fighting off hordes of superpowered fish. I mostly stuck with rapid-fire weapons like shooters and dualies, but occasionally changed it up with a shotgun-like slosher. The weapons you find have numbered levels that generally match your current experience level, so sometimes Raiders will gently push you to try something new. If you haven't found a new version of your preferred weapon type for a while, of course you'll try out a stronger but less familiar weapon. The real game-changer is the array of Gadgets. You have three Tank types--Speed, Power, and Tactical--which mostly define your Gadget selection. The Speed tank gives you access to the Booyarang, a spinning weapon that squirts some ink in a small radius, while the Power tank gives you Splatellites that circle around you, and the Tactical tank gives you the Shot Pot auto-turret. Each of the gadgets feel very different from each other, and you're able to develop new Gadgets as you progress through the game. I stuck mostly to the Power Tank and my favorite Gadget, the Splatellite, all throughout. 
Big Man pilots the digger in Splatoon Raiders The game again encourages experimentation with Sampler Dungeons, short trial dungeons that let you test out with a Gadget you may not have tried, and rewards your curiosity with a bonus Skill Point. They're always worth doing because of the bonus, and the curated nature of the stages allows the game to walk you through a lot of the clever applications of the Gadgets. To get even more creative, each Gadget can also be modified by equipping parts. This is one of the aspects you can upgrade with your Skill Points and it's almost always worth it to do, as enhancing your Gadgets is a major part of finding your own strategy to take on the increasingly tough waves of Salmonids. The Gadget parts offer fairly simple upgrades initially, like enhancing their power or area of effect. But as you find and create more, you can add special effects like scorch damage for the Splatellites, or increased damage the further you fall for your ground-striking Meteor Mitt. The array of options leads to creative applications that I was still discovering late in the game. The Splatellites are primarily a defensive weapon, but eventually I had reduced their cooldown so much they could be used almost indefinitely, and they created such a large area of effect that they essentially laid down a track of swimmable ink in front of me while I was in squid form. That made it much easier to quickly traverse the battlefield without having to pause to shoot a swimming path. If I saw, say, a turret tower in the distance, I could just activate my Gadget and swim straight over to make quick work of it. That's just one application, and it feels like I could find many more for each piece of gear. 
Splatellites circle you in Splatoon Raiders For emergencies, you also get to equip one Showstopper ability that is paired to which member of Deep Cut you bring along on your voyages. Those power up as well, but recharge much more slowly than your Gadgets, and fill with eggs from defeated enemies instead of a cooldown. However, these Showstoppers make up for their lengthier wait period by packing a serious punch and the ability to completely change the way a match is going. Shiver's ability, which spawns a massive shark to cut across the battlefield, bailed me out more than a few times. In both the case of the Power Tank and Showstopper, though, I eventually hit max level and plateaued. It's clear that Splatoon Raiders wants you to swap between them to power them up, but the stages kept ramping up in difficulty and I would feel underpowered when I tried switching to another. So rather than gain valuable experience for the Speed or Tactical Tank, or for the other two Showstoppers, I was just gaining useless experience points toward skills I had already mastered. It would have been nice if I could have applied this spillover experience to my lesser-used Tanks and Showstoppers to speed up their leveling, but instead I was forced to gain functionally nothing unless I wanted to feel underpowered. Keeping up with the level requirements of the stages was a must, because the array of Salmonids gets pretty tough. Like the weapons, these are mostly recognizable from past Splatoon games, but they're given new life here. Many of them are given overpowered "Seasoned" forms, identifiable by a thick layer of salt covering them that makes them extra-tough. Raiders gets a shocking amount of mileage out of rearranging the enemies across different compositions and battlefields, and near the end it starts to get incredibly hectic. Managing the battlefield and prioritizing threats is a harried thrill that never gets old, especially with the promise of sweet loot. 
Shiver rides a shark in Splatoon Raiders The stages are usually around 10 minutes, which feels like the ideal length for a casual looter shooter like this. It's just enough time to hop in, take down some enemies, then go back to base to check out your new gear and ready-up to go again. But in the stages that required some level of crystal completion, I would often just hang around and keep taking down Salmonids even after fulfilling the requirement, simply because I was enjoying the satisfaction of taking down enemies. That feels like the mark of a great gameplay loop. Splatoon Raiders isn't entirely absent of multiplayer. You can group up and take part in co-op raids with enemies that scale up in difficulty, and you'll still get loot and experience from your co-op raids. It's a nice-to-have feature that worked well in my limited pre-release experience, but it's really not the focus here. You could play through the entirety of Splatoon Raiders as a single-player shooter, and it's better for it. I would be surprised if Splatoon Raiders supplants the main Splatoon titles. The series is a big success for Nintendo, so clearly the competitive ink-splattering multiplayer has found an audience. But Splatoon Raiders shows a new degree of flexibility for the franchise, with a single-player campaign that's much more satisfying than its past attempts to inject a story campaign into the main games. I hope this new looter shooter sub-series gets to live alongside the main series, because it's loads of fun already, and the concept could be pushed even further...