There’s no shyness in Lucy Dreaming regarding its influences. When I’d wake from slumber as a teen in the nineties, my remembered nighttime gaming visions looked like this. Back then, the quality of video game storytelling drove many of us away from action titles and towards more accommodating forms, like JRPGs. However, players also found solace in the burgeoning adventure game genre, which placed an eccentric and comedic spin on narrative-based interactive experiences.

During this period, LucasArts, the undisputed titan of the field, built on the success of eighties titles such as Maniac Mansion by creating enduring classics, like The Secret of Monkey Island. These games inspired the small team at developer Tall Story Games, who obviously have the same affection for those days that I do.

Lucy Dreaming follows in LucasArts and its contemporaries’ hallowed footsteps, attempting to replicate the experience of booting up one of those legendary titles. It tells the story of Lucy, a young English girl who lives in the small town of Figgington, a bizarre hybrid of a seaside postcard, a British rural detective drama, and The League of Gentlemen.

Lucy suffers from nightmares that make it impossible for her to sleep, so she turns to one of her father’s psychology books for advice. It advocates creating a dream box and filling it with inspiration, along with an appropriate companion. If you think Figgington sounds odd, just wait until you see the outlandish worlds that await Lucy when she pops on her pyjamas and takes the plunge into her unconscious.

Lucy Dreaming adopts a simplified variation on the SCUMM control system developed by LucasArts for Maniac Mansion. You have four commands that you use to interact with objects: Look At, Pick Up, Talk To, and Use. From these limited options spring a multitude of possibilities, but the cursor defaults to “Look At.” You press a button to scroll through the others, which feels like a legacy of its pre-console origin. I believe a better choice would be to allow the mapping of the options onto different inputs, but even so, cycling through to find what you need soon becomes second nature.

You use the commands to explore the environment, examine artefacts, hold conversations, and merge items. As any keen adventure game player will tell you, the primary purpose lies in finding the silliest combinations of instructions that you possibly can just to see what happens. If this sounds appealing, then Lucy Dreaming has you covered, as nearly everything you can think to do results in a witty response, or at the very least a groan-inducing pun.

Only every so often do you come up against the dreaded stock phrases prevalent in the genre, with Lucy saying something along the lines of “I don’t want to do that.” This happens much less than in other, similar titles, sometimes sounding as repetitive as that time you played Tomb Raider and kept trying to make Lara do something unpleasant.

Lucy Dreaming gives you many incentives to explore. With its pixellated graphics, it has a wonderfully retro look that transported me straight back to rainy afternoons after school, marvelling at the sophisticated graphics of the new age. It could be the nostalgia talking, but its muted palette, which blends a gritty, down-to-earth look with a comic-book aesthetic, perfectly suits the project. Lucy Dreaming’s style captures the run-down banality of Figgington’s environments but adapts nicely to the more fantastical dream worlds that Lucy travels to. This makes sense, as things drawn from Lucy’s life populate the dreams, and subtly linking the dreams in this way really works.

Lucy Dreaming takes place in a relatively small number of environments, but each makes a distinctive impact. In Figgington itself we have Lucy’s home, which, despite only having a few rooms, still manages to feel large and imposing, emphasising Lucy’s relative isolation. Other areas include the town centre, consisting, like many English high streets today, mainly of a charity shop and a run-down pub. The library appears very traditional, except for the addition of some rather odd retro-futuristic machinery. The dream lands, unique zones of surreal hilarity, present the player with extended skits that could be drawn straight from the minds of the best of the Python era comedians.

Tall Story Games populates Lucy Dreaming with characters ranging from the outright disturbed, such as Lucy’s twin brother Lloyd, who performs twisted experiments on animals of both the living and the stuffed variety, to hilarious caricatures of English life. The latter includes a jam-obsessed vicar, a charity shop worker with little to no interest in the charity they work for, and the hard-pressed owner of the worst English corner shop you could possibly imagine. In Lucy’s sleeping world, we encounter friendly carnivorous plants and trolls who love baking more than bludgeoning.

Many of these creatures have a generally gloomy disposition, something almost required in humorous point-and-clicks. There’s something immensely fun about seeing these creatures’ reactions to the ridiculous things that you make Lucy do throughout the course of the game. Lucy herself recognises this, commenting on her own ethically dubious behaviour, providing some of the funniest moments in a very funny game.

The full voice acting also impresses in this indie title. The husband-and-wife team behind Tall Story Games, Emma and Tom Hardwidge, decided that Emma would provide the voice of Lucy to save on cost. What could have been an unfortunate compromise turns out to be a complete triumph, as Hardwidge puts in a magnificent performance. Her soft Midlands accent and droll delivery ensure that nearly every gag lands, even when they really shouldn’t. She doesn’t try to sound like a child, but even so, we soon accept the premise, drawn in by the absurdity of it all.

The rest of the relatively small cast also perform admirably, with a manic-sounding Lloyd elevating the early moments of the game. Lucy’s primary dream companion Fumbles the Bear sounds suitably depressed, and a wonderfully clichéd take on the Igor archetype entertains in the later stages of the game. The team also secured the services of Dominic Armato, the iconic voice of Guybrush Threepwood from the Monkey Island series, who gives an entertaining performance as a local food critic. Whilst relatively brief, it’s a great callback to those earlier days of adventuring.

The puzzling, forming the core of the gameplay, delights in its construction. The challenges have the right level of difficulty; not so easy that you will breeze through them, but not hard enough to cause frustration. With logically built puzzles requiring only a little experimentation and thought to solve, the joy in finally working out a tricky conundrum cannot be understated. Only on one occasion did the game truly stump me, which I believe lies more in my failings than the game’s.

Difficulty can be an issue for point-and-clicks, as encountering an intransigent problem can result in a player tossing a game aside. Recent titles and remasters have dealt with this issue in different ways, with some opting for a hint system that becomes increasingly explicit according to player needs. Tall Story Games have adopted a more subtle approach, with a button on screen that you click on to reveal the key items in a scene that you can interact with. This provides just enough impetus to help surmount potential roadblocks without removing the sense of achievement so crucial to the experience.

The music in Lucy Dreaming again calls back to the golden age of adventure games with enjoyable tunes that fit the situations Lucy finds herself in. The nature of the game means you will be spending large amounts of time in singular locations attempting to solve difficult dilemmas. Composer Bertrand Guégan and the creative team decided on a relatively unobtrusive musical style, though individual tracks can be repetitive in consequence.

You may be asking yourself whether such a game appeals to modern tastes as well as to more vintage gamers like myself. In answer to that question, I played Lucy Dreaming with my own children, and my youngest so loves Lucy’s story that he demands a sequel immediately. On the same subject, if you feel like letting the younger folk loose on Lucy Dreaming, you will be glad to know about the option to turn the swearing off if desired, although none of it would upset your grandparents, even at its most expletive-filled worst.

Lucy Dreaming represents an astounding achievement when you consider the size of the development team and the results they achieved. Playing feels like chancing upon long-forgotten memories of better days. Despite this, the game pushes forwards, making these narrative adventures no longer just abandoned nocturnes summoning dreams of the past, but hopes for what we might see again in the future.

The Digimon anime franchise will always hold a special place in my heart: I grew up watching the shows and found their stories about the importance of bonds and connections to be genuinely heartfelt. While the plots lean towards a younger audience, there’s also a universal and timeless quality. My exposure to the Digimon RPGs was severely limited by comparison until monster-taming turn-based RPG Digimon Story: Time Stranger. After spending time with the game, I found a title that plays much like an interactive narrative arc of the beloved series, attempting to grow up alongside its original, mature audience. Time Stranger largely succeeds, providing countless hours of entertainment, yet it’s not without some audience dissonance.

Digimon Story: Time Stranger tells the tale of a secret agent from an agency called ADAMAS, tasked with keeping the world safe from dangerous anomalies. Upon starting, you pick between a male or female protagonist (narratively known simply as “Agent” regardless of how you name them). This decision is essentially superficial, as the plot remains as gender-neutral as possible. While on a mission, Agent encounters strange digital beings described as electron phase lifeforms, better known by the moniker “Digimon.” It isn’t long after that Agent gains the ability to partner with various Digimon they encounter that a disaster occurs, spanning both the human realm and the conflict-soaked Digital World of Iliad, alongside the very fabric of space and time itself. Together with their Digimon partners and a colorful assortment of allies from both worlds, can Agent prevent a reality-ending tragedy?

I don’t want to spoil too much of Digimon Story: Time Stranger‘s plot, as it goes through some pretty hefty twists and reveals that players should experience first-hand. The main characters and their supporting cast of allies, both human and Digimon alike, are largely likable and memorable in various ways. Even many of the antagonists have surprising depth or a compelling reason behind their actions. Time travel tales are often convoluted, and I wouldn’t say Time Stranger differs in that regard, but things manage to play out in a surprisingly satisfactory way despite that.

From a concept stance, Digimon Story: Time Stranger takes the Digimon franchise formula of humans forming bonds with Digimon while going on an adventure to save all existence and runs with it to new heights. Throw in some reality-breaking elements like a Persona Velvet Room-esque area in-between time and space, and the morally complex/ambiguous anti-war messages found in Bandai franchise line Gundam, and you have a rather interesting narrative. In a lot of ways, I appreciate that the story doesn’t dumb down its serious messaging or tone, seemingly matured with the no doubt aging original audience of the Digimon franchise; however, it’s within that very aspect that the title suffers its biggest weakness: the dissonance of just who this RPG means to cater to.

Digimon began as a family-friendly series that could appeal to adventure-seeking children without completely losing its appeal to older audiences, which is why it continues to have a devoted fan base. Digimon Story: Time Stranger approaches its multi-layered tale of bonds, time travel, and conflict with a more mature mindset. In many ways, this is the continuation of a franchise that returning fans have aged alongside. Yet the shadows of its initial, family-friendly form remain. The Digimon themselves often appear cutesy and childish, which could lead someone to dismiss the RPG as kids’ fare. However, the subject matter it covers is far from kid-friendly, with several later plot twists that are triggering and disturbing even for adults. Those wanting the nostalgic adventures of youth will only find slivers here, while those wanting more mature storytelling will similarly only find slivers. Given that, I feel like the actual audience for Time Stranger will be severely limited.

From an RPG stance, Digimon Story: Time Stranger provides a richly detailed and in-depth monster-taming experience. Upon selecting a starting Digimon to help get through the first dungeon, you can add several to your initially limited roster. This addition is initially accomplished by encountering various types of Digimon and fighting them on the field, scanning the digital beings each time you battle them. A higher percentage scan means stronger Digimon once you’ve enough of a percentage to add them to your roster. You can create a party of up to six active Digimon with three actually fighting and three in reserve, switching between them at any point during your turn. Combat is a straightforward, traditional turn-based affair, yet it feels like it goes at a breakneck pace given all the skill-slinging that occurs.

Certain types of Digimon have their own strengths and weaknesses alongside innate skills and stats, though you can provide them with additional skills and stat-boosting gear to help fully augment and customize their arsenal as you see fit. Essential to this is the combat’s Rock-Paper-Scissors type triangle between Digimon: Vaccine type Digimon deal extra damage to Virus, who are effective against Data types, who in turn beat Vaccine types. Once a Digimon reaches specific goals, it can also digivolve to a stronger form (or, if it is a particular Digimon you’re after, you can de-digivolve and attempt a different digivolution phase). Numerous permutations are available depending on a Digimon’s stats, their base personality, and Agent’s rank. As you advance in the game, Agent gains anomaly points, which you can then spend on fairly extensive skill trees that help unlock a new super move during combat or boost stats of the differing Digimon personalities. With so many different approaches to how a Digimon can advance, one could spend hours simply experimenting with the system to gain potent allies.

To further strengthen Digimon, the In-Between Theater you can visit also allows you access to additional Outer Dungeons for experience and awards. You can also place Digimon you aren’t currently using at a digi-farm to undergo training to help further strengthen them or alter personality traits, which in turn changes their stats. It’s a nice touch, albeit perhaps more superfluous than not, depending on your chosen difficulty settings. Aside from advancing the main storyline, you can also partake in numerous side quests. These side quests are of the fetch or battle variety, but offer pretty decent rewards as incentives for completion. Again, you could spend hours attempting to do everything this title offers, especially with its various replayability features. Because there’s so much to see and do, a way to travel between the realms easily without backtracking would’ve been welcome.

Visually, Digimon Story: Time Stranger isn’t terrible-looking, though it does suffer from some budgetary issues. This issue is, namely, apparent in the limited animations for the various Digimon you encounter. I must admit that I’m not the biggest fan of the character designs by Suzuhito Yasuda, but that’s more a personal preference than anything else, and I think they transition well enough to the game’s graphics, regardless. The game’s artwork and its visual presentation are certainly eye-catching!  However, the dialogue subtitle UI font can be challenging to read at times, depending on the background’s color and lighting.  Soundwise, the English language voice work is decent enough to carry the narrative, and the music effectively bolsters pivotal moments and battles. I especially like the instrumentation and lyrical message behind the sentimental theme song. The script works, and the localization is superb. I only noticed two spelling errors, which is impressive given the amount of dialogue.

Digimon Story: Time Stranger has a lot to offer as a monster-taming RPG. A heartfelt story lies at its core, despite some dissonance regarding its target audience, and the gameplay mechanics are polished and thoroughly entertaining. You could find yourself spending hours and hours playing the game and experimenting with customization alone! I had a great time playing the primary story campaign in particular, and found myself growing to care about the characters. As far as an interactive Digimon experience goes, I think that sentiment proves just how much Digimon Story: Time Stranger ultimately delivers.

For years, I’ve felt a palpable sense of FOMO regarding Nihon Falcom‘s Trails / Kiseki series. Many of my peers are avid fans of it, and their praise inevitably left me with a voice inside my head yelling to stop dawdling and see what all the hype is about. As a longtime sucker for a good JRPG and a fan of Trails‘ sister series Ys, this voice has never stopped its pestering.

However, deciding where to start created serious decision anxiety in me. Even ignoring my extensive backlog, this is a continuity-heavy series with multiple, interlocking plotlines, an expansive world, and an absurdly large cast. Choosing to play one of the later games first risks ruining some of the fun. As such, starting from the beginning with Trails in the Sky FC and playing chronologically is the sensible choice, but with so many entries of intimidating length, my plans for a Trails marathon have repeatedly fallen through. The last one I played to completion was Trails of Cold Steel more than half a decade ago. But now, I’ve finally started my journey through the Zemurian continent in earnest.

Trails in the Sky 1st Chapter arrives just over twenty years after the series’ beginning to remake Sky FC from the ground up. It has completely reworked graphics and aesthetics, modernized RPG combat, and fully-voiced cutscenes for the first time in English, but in many ways it is still the same game. The story beats and dialogue structure are as close to the original as can be, the sidequests are intact, and even specific items remain in the same areas. Having only played through the prologue of that original game, the opportunity to play a version with an identical story, modernized gameplay, and conveniences like fast travel is much appreciated.

While some changes complicate appraising it as a straight vertical upgrade, 1st Chapter is still a strong, well-made game with an enjoyable cast, a gripping story, and a fascinating setting to explore. That it’s only a taste of what’s to come for the nation of Liberl and also standalone enough to feel complete is an accomplishment for a series this massive in scope.

1st Chapter retells the story of Estelle Bright and her adopted brother Joshua, the children of renowned warrior Cassius Bright. Both aspire to follow his example by joining the Bracer Guild, an international organization dedicated to serving the civilian populations of the Zemurian continent. However, when Cassius goes missing during an important mission, Estelle and Joshua follow his trail and stumble upon multiple interlocking plots with devastating implications while fighting sky pirates, mysterious black-clad agents, and lots and lots of monsters.

Between all that fighting, they also take time to work towards a promotion from Junior to Senior Bracers. Sometimes this means fighting threats that imperil the populace, though it just as often means contributing in more mundane ways, like finding lost items or running deliveries. At a surface level, this suggests that the game spins its wheels on busywork. While it’s true that many of these jobs are optional, the player is substantially rewarded for completing them, and they’re better telegraphed than ever before. Even big portions of the main story, such as Chapter Two, can seem fairly low-stakes at first glance. What makes it all work is the way it interacts with the larger world.

One of the core themes explored by Trails is the value in learning about and interacting with other people. Estelle and Joshua encounter multiple new perspectives and charming personalities across their journey, and come to learn that Bracers serve a vital community role beyond mere mercenary work. One of the most memorable sections in the game sees them assist with a play, and surprisingly enough, it ends up being both a fun comedic diversion and a meaningful part of the more serious central plot.

This is also why such a large focus is placed on giving each major location its own atmosphere and history. A great balance is struck between giving Liberl’s various locales a unified sense of culture and distinct economic and social idiosyncrasies, not to mention the subtly brilliant way each location builds on the last. Rolent, the Brights’ hometown, is noticeably rural and isn’t too far removed from most other fantasy RPG towns, but the subsequent cities show increasing levels of modernity and technological development that gradually pull the setting’s deliberately anachronistic style into focus. Even when the capital city, Grancel, subverts this pattern, its position in the plot gives that subversion dramatic weight.

All of this adds up to a satisfying story that simultaneously works as a singular narrative and as a 50-hour prologue for both its direct sequels and the gargantuan saga to follow. And just to make sure you’re hooked, 1st Chapter hits you with a powerful cliffhanger ending on the way out. Any minor conveniences or catches aside, it does its job masterfully.

That being said, there are two notable catches to Trails in the Sky 1st Chapter‘s story. The first concerns Estelle and Joshua’s relationship, which, while I don’t object to the surprising place it goes given their circumstances, could probably benefit from some very slight alterations in how it gets there. The other is a more general complication: the dialogue. It’s not outright bad, though it is nonetheless a sore point.

Checking it against the XSEED’s Sky FC script, the two share their general content, and 1st Chapter still conveys the appeal of the cast. But even before looking at the two releases in comparison, I found 1st Chapter slightly lacking in personality, and comparison to XSEED’s punched-up script only solidifies this assessment. Even though the character voices certainly aren’t written interchangeably, they do feel somewhat restrained. Some frequently awkward phrasing and word choice definitely doesn’t help. While I doubt this is a major problem to any newcomers, it is still noticeable despite my having barely played the original, and Trails die-hards have much to discuss.

It’s a relief, then, that 1st Chapter‘s cast boasts so many talented performers who are able to work with most of those faults. The dialogue’s weaknesses do occasionally manifest in vocal performances, but it is mercifully competent enough that they still come out well overall. Stephanie Sheh and Johnny Yong Bosch reprise their roles as Estelle and Joshua, and given the remarkable frequency with which these two actors star opposite one another, their chemistry here is only to be expected. It’s especially refreshing to hear Sheh in the lead, given that Bosch is usually playing that role.

The supporting players are no slouches either; Matthew Mercer as Olivier, Michael Allen Schneider as Nial, and George Peter as Colonel Richard are only a few of the top-notch actors on display, and I’d go on save for the cast’s size. Even comparatively minor characters like David Lodge’s Professor Alba are well-acted enough to leave huge impressions.

English vocals aren’t the only aesthetic overhaul, and the new models and environments are debatably an even bigger deal. These are probably Falcom’s best-looking 3D models thus far, and the cinematography and animation of key cutscenes and special attacks are genuinely superb, though I do think the original top-down perspective and how it emphasized the characters’ small size compared to the world around them still deserves acknowledgment. Likewise, the environments have a pleasant, welcoming feel, meshing perfectly with the plot’s road trip vibe. Topping it off is an update of an already strong soundtrack that feels right at home with the new look, complete with an all-timer basic battle theme.

The most significant deviation, however, is the combat, which integrates the Brave mechanics from the Cold Steel games and the hybrid combat system from the Daybreak games. While it’s easy at first to avoid using the turn-based Command Battles in favor of real-time Quick Battles, 1st Chapter gradually strikes a good parity between these two systems. And with the Quick Battle mechanics being fairly simple, the nuances of the Command Battles shine even more, with the largely unchanged Orbment customization system allowing for a fun degree of modular character building.

The addition of Daybreak‘s task-based reward system does give access to a lot of useful items earlier than normal, which is thankfully measured enough for the game to maintain a reasonable level of challenge on hard mode. Just keep in mind that this is the rare JRPG where at least half of its playtime is spent without a full party, so I hope you like how the Brights play.

I’m still impressed by how at home Trails in the Sky 1st Chapter feels in its new form two decades down the line. It’s the opening act of an epic, long-running narrative and yet manages to feel down-to-earth and personal. It maintains its tone while updating it to a modern standard of presentation, and despite the stumbles in its dialogue, its characters are relentlessly charming. It’s more than just a great game—it’s a great starting point for a celebrated series, and that’s an utterly invaluable quality for one as daunting as this.

Having a “favorite game of all time” can feel like a trite, tedious topic of conversation, especially amongst groups who spend a lot of time together. Most of my gamer friends know that I put Final Fantasy Tactics on a bit of a pedestal, though I know I’m not alone in this. I’ve done full playthroughs of this strategy RPG more than I have almost any other game, thanks to its gripping narrative, enthralling music, and highly customizable gameplay. One would assume the genre has moved forward since 1997 and this classic, while worthy of its place in history, has weathered over time. I am here to tell you: not so. Somehow, no game—that I’ve played, anyway—has surpassed FFT’s unbeatable combination of story, gameplay, and presentation. Now, we get to enjoy this timeless work of art with a fresh coat of paint, full voice acting, a rewritten script, and some adjustments to gameplay.

FFT follows Ramza Beoulve who, in present day, fights with a band of mercenaries doing odd jobs, though we learn immediately that he’s taken a fateful job involving a princess that somehow reconnects him with a childhood friend. After a well-constructed tutorial battle, we cut to a year earlier, wherein Ramza and dear friend Delita fight off bandits right outside their academy. Only squires learning how to become full knights, the two venture off to meet with Ramza’s father on his deathbed, as he has fallen ill. His father, a knight of legend from a war that lasted fifty years in this kingdom of Ivalice, shares precious words of encouragement with Ramza, who is nobility and carries a name with legacy of protecting the weak. As his older brother, Dycedarg, begins to lead the family, Ramza gets tasked with slaying rebels who resist the aristocracy and nobility. Alongside Delita, Ramza learns that the definition of “right” and “wrong” blurs for all, perhaps even himself.

The ensuing story continues like this with sophistry, moral greys, commentary about leaders and who writes history, and religion. All tightly compact with little clutter. While by no means a short game, FFT respects the players’ time with meaningful engagements and dialogue that drive the story forward while simultaneously characterizing the cast. With almost no humor or romance, FFT maintains its mission as a grim, serious narrative that defines what true heroism is.

I cannot think of one title that crisply, without waste, tells an epic narrative over years’ time and offers a weighty sense of place, atmosphere, and urgency from start to finish without relinquishing my attention. Japanese-style RPGs, like the rest of the Final Fantasy series, Dragon Quest, and the SNES and PS1 games of yore all have a certain feeling to them that marries light-heartedness with robust David-and-Goliath yarns emphasizing friendship. While many of them vary, the feeling they convey and tone remain largely consistent. Next, we have Western-style RPGs that favor dense, gruesome stories in worlds where living is akin to suffering. Prose goes on and on as grand, fantastical worlds appear on our screens, impress upon our minds, and are elaborated on seemingly endlessly. Then there’s FFT, which somehow blends these two feelings; it lacks the teenager-esque breeziness we get from JRPGs, but favors a sense of hope and drama we don’t typically encounter in WRPGs. In fact, that drama occurs as if on a stage as we hear poetry expressed through the lips of actors who seem to have waited their entire careers for this one script.

And I do mean poetry. The language here borders on melodramatic, but the weight of the War of the Lions, plight of the common folk, and unbridled arrogance of the nobility and church demand such intensity. Characters speak as if using a language akin to English with grammatical structure reminiscent of times long past. Words are used in ways no modern person speaks, yet the writing is almost always intelligible and rarely causes confusion. I consider myself as having a decent vocabulary and love of words, though there were times I heard a line spoken, read that sentence or two again, and still had no clue what the person said. I imagine folks who prefer grounded, concrete words may roll their eyes throughout, but for those who love flowery expressions and exchanges almost never stated plainly, the emotions evoked by each cast member ignited feelings I never felt before in the five or so times I completed this game.

I honestly can’t pick a stand-out performer here. The entire cast, including no-name passersby, absolutely kill their lines. While Ben Starr will earn accolades with his outstanding performance as Dycedarg, every other actor deserves as much—or more—recognition. Joe Pitts as Ramza acts as if playing five different characters as we witness Ramza grow from ignorant boyhood to angry outcast to bold hero. Timothy Watson’s Cidolfus expertly communicates as a not-too-old, grizzled knight of legend who stands by principles alone, yet simultaneously delivers terrifying lines during ability scripts in battle. Then there’s the guy at the poacher, who is easily the star of the show with the absolute creepshow he has no business putting out there in the universe.

Oh my God, I haven’t even talked about the gameplay yet. So, strategy RPGs take place on grids—usually squares—wherein characters take turns all proper-like before initiating attacks. In FFT, characters move on rotatable maps in isometric view as they get one action and one move. Most battles task players to eliminate all enemies, while some require meeting an objective or protecting one person. Place four or five of your characters on the battlefield and whack enemies, sling spells, and exploit auto-potion. (Because how else are you going to beat Tactician difficulty?)

Character customization is one of the best aspects of FFT, and something only executed as well in Fell Seal, which, let’s face it, was completely inspired by FFT. Each character, story-driven or no-name recruit, levels up to get stronger (as usual), but also accrues job points to develop their current job class. Jobs are exactly what you think they are: knight, white mage, black mage, dragoon, orator—you know, the basics. Over twenty basics, in fact. Each character not only learns abilities accrued through job points, but can adopt another job class as a sub-class, as well as equip reaction, support, and movement abilities. This means a character could potentially harness abilities from five different jobs, making experimentation an exhilarating prospect. Of course, some combinations are more intuitive than others, but don’t think it’s that simple, either. FFT, while a notoriously breakable game, has dozens of legitimate playstyles. Though, those daring enough to attempt Tactician mode may need to discover some of those aforementioned game-breaking strategies.

I played (most of) the game through Tactician difficulty, because after five playthroughs, I wanted a challenge. Yes, I employed some strong strategies I’ve learned over the years, but that seems required on Tactician. The original difficulty felt as if playing on easy mode. Then again, don’t expect any revolutionary game balancing or surprises on Tactician difficulty; for the most part, this feels like a numbers game, though I will say arithmeticks (math skill), as an example, was surprisingly nerfed on Tactician. Flip the switch to Knight (default difficulty), and you can cheese every battle in the game. Tip: think of arithmeticks more as a support tool than a damage cannon.

Going back to what makes FFT great: the maps! Several of the maps are so incredibly imaginative, as if painstakingly handcrafted to create a sense of place while simultaneously generating a strategic landscape. Height matters not just in terms of positioning and how characters can move, but also the range available when using abilities. Some abilities are irritatingly precise (looking at you, monks), while others are appealing simply for their flexibility. Do I surpass the cheaper job ability in favor of the more expensive, slower one simply because of its range and area of effect, or do I work up to it, forcing myself to build this character up more? Fortunately, grinding has never been easier.

I don’t like the word “grinding,” though, because it implies the battles aren’t fun. The battles are always fun. However, not everyone likes fighting battles for the sake of leveling, so in that case, the fast-forward feature on R1 makes leveling a breeze. What’s more, if you’re sick of fighting at Zeirchele Falls (why do I always get battles there?), you can simply choose the “flee” option on the world map to ditch the fight and move on with your life. You can also click your current node to generate a battle automatically, in case you’re hunting for rare fights (I still have never beaten the one at Barius Hill…) This also means that engaging in errands in towns is easy, because you can just bypass all of the random fights as you walk around spending days, waiting for your allies to get back.

Errands allow players to pull three no-name characters out of their party to engage in some mini-story (without you) and come back after eight to fifteen days. After returning, the characters talk about what a great success or failure the errand was, and provide some gil, which is plentiful even without errands. Sometimes, a rare trinket or wonder surfaces that has no in-game effect, but serves as a reference to other Final Fantasy games (think Matoya’s Cave as a lost wonder). Wink wink, nudge nudge, etc. For the fans.

Anyway, The Ivalice Chronicles introduces reading material, which players can actually read, but there are only a few of them. And—they’re not great. These books, while not poorly written, are poorly delivered. The scripts are hard to follow, and they frequently offer a basic choose-your-own-adventure style of minigame that is long and tedious. If you “win,” then you get a credits screen with the contributors of the book, and that’s it. These reading materials are truly for diehard fans, and even then, I can’t say they are worth my time. They only vaguely reference the FFT world, and the tone doesn’t match the game whatsoever.

Other furnishings I’ve noticed—or are openly publicized—in The Ivalice Chronicles include new visuals, rebalanced charge times and ability costs, and quality-of-life improvements regarding sidequests. While I find the visual “enhancements” a bit disappointing, I’m not sure what else they could have done without stripping FFT of its core identity. Further, I will say that I stopped caring about or noticing the visuals after a while, and they kinda fell to the background. Also, characters’ mouths move in dialogue, which, if you stare at it, is not great. I might even say terrible. I think you’re not supposed to be staring at the black line that widens and shrinks awkwardly—read the words along with the actor and take in the moving mouth with your peripheral vision; this actually enhanced my experience. I think.

Retooled charge times make classes like mages accessible and useful. Gone are the days in which black mages rely on Fire or maybe Fire 2 (now “Fira”) because higher-tier spells are impossible to cast before enemies act. This makes black mages way more powerful, even on Tactician difficulty. Further, powerful abilities, like Teleport, have increased job point costs to learn. Teleport, in particular, is a lot more. Like…a lot more. Frustrated with how to adopt <secret character>? Not anymore, because The Ivalice Chronicles painstakingly announces with a giant, bright blue marker where the next side quest is.

I could complain about how The Ivalice Chronicles doesn’t have a revamped soundtrack like we got with the Pixel Remasters, that the PSP content wasn’t included, or that it didn’t have new cinematics, but you know what? This is an outstanding remaster with a subtle touch to rebalancing that fans—and newcomers—will clamor for. Having Final Fantasy Tactics accessible on modern hardware with all the furnishings Square Enix was kind enough to bestow upon us—all I can say is “thank you.” In truth, while an updated soundtrack would have been my biggest ask, I still cannot believe how good this voice acting is. The localization team and actors have absolutely done us a service with this masterpiece, treating this title with the respect it deserves. This epic fantasy that tonally draws from different styles into one coherent, beautiful voice is available to all of us, and if communication from its creators is to be believed, we might see more of this world if we support Ivalice Chronicles. Do yourself a favor and enjoy what is, without question, one of the greatest tales ever told. One of the greatest RPGs ever created.

If you’ve seen anything about the new Idea Factory title, Mado Monogatari: Fia and the Wondrous Academy, and you’re wondering whether that name sounds familiar, then you are my kind of gamer. Because, frankly, that was my immediate thought as well. It required a brief history lesson, and I have to say, it was worthwhile. And, given that this particular game takes place inside an academy, we may as well start with a little history lecture.

History

Mado Monogatari was first released on the MSX computer system in 1989 by developer Compile. You play as a young wizard in training named Arle Nadja, who managed to pass a written exam despite being only six years old, and must now take on the practical portion of the exam: scaling a labyrinthine tower filled with monsters. The gameplay features random encounters with turn-based combat and exploration in a first-person perspective similar to the first Phantasy Star. Elements of The Tower of Druaga and Wizardry seem to have influenced this game heavily at the time.

This dungeon crawler achieved moderate success and saw ports, sequels, and spin-offs for the NEC PC-98, Super Famicom, and even Sega Saturn. All of these games stayed Japan-exclusive, even as a puzzle series spin-off based on the Mado Monogatari‘s cast of characters and monsters (Puyo Puyo) had some entries localized.

The series developer, Compile, went bankrupt in the early 2000s. Much of Compile’s key staff and many of its IPs (such as Mado Monogatari) reformed as a subsidiary under Idea Factory called Compile Heart. That’s right, the folks behind Agarest, Neptunia, and more have connections to a classic RPG franchise. Said franchise reared its head again in the form of Sei Mado Monogatari in 2013. And guess what? This is actually the first time the series had an English localization! In doing so, they dropped the romaji title and called it Sorcery Saga: Curse of the Great Curry God. This spiritual successor revamped the formula of the early series, now a top-down, roguelike title (tiles, simple maps, like a Chunsoft Mystery Dungeon title). The game met with middling reception, and I’d personally forgotten about it… until now.

ELA

Idea Factory International decided to stick with the Mado Monogatari moniker for its English language release in this case! So here we are, with the second release in the long-running franchise to find its way stateside. Mado Monogatari: Fia and the Wondrous Academy tells the story of a young woman named Fia who goes to the Magic Artes academy. Fia befriends four other students who act as the other characters in the party: sword-wielding wannabe hero Will, bookish and snobby Leena, mysterious and money-hungry Totto, and the lovestruck Eska. Yes, there is something Sapphic going on in this cute story, even if it appears to be one-sided. After a combat trial early in the game, Eska falls head over heels for Fia. Her being a kind of magical demi-human known as a Dragonewt results in some strange social and cultural dynamics, and her devotion to Fia is just one of them.

The antics between the five students and their professors at the academy make up the majority of the game’s dialogue. The introductory hour was painful to slog through, but once you’re up to speed on how the game works and what story the developers are trying to tell, the story itself is fun and leisurely, even if it’s a bit too trope-heavy. Do not expect much in the way of depth or surprises that you couldn’t predict a mile away. But, for what the story is? I can’t complain. Hardcore fans may also notice an implied connection between the original games starring Arle Nadja and the characters of this generation.

And for those of us in the classroom experiencing eye strain, good news: the font size is ideal, even for those of us with smaller televisions, or playing handheld on a Switch. Maybe it’s just my own eyesight that is the problem, but tiny text is becoming more and more frequent in gaming. Being able to actually read the words on the screen without issue was a blessing.

Now you may be asking: what exactly happens over the course of Fia and the Wondrous Academy? Glad you asked!

STEM

The new Mado Monogatari sticks to its dungeon-crawling roots, even taking a page from the PS Vita Sorcery Saga entry to incorporate a few roguelike elements. Alongside the starting/tutorial dungeon “The Mage’s Tower,” about a dozen other dungeons become accessible throughout the course of the game. Each has a maximum floor level, unique visuals, hazards, specific monster encounters, and item drops. The floors of each dungeon are randomly generated, typically a series of rooms and hallways similar to typical roguelikes. However, combat does not take place in the dungeon, and your character is not moving on fixed tiles. Monsters that appear in the dungeon start a separate combat scenario upon contact, within a circular combat arena.

And here’s where I have some mixed feelings.

The combat in Mado Monogatari: Fia and the Wondrous Academy is complicated. Movement in the circle occurs in real-time, and basic physical attacks can occur at will. All other actions (Magic Artes, weapon skills, even items) depend on what is essentially an ATB bar. Your attacks come in a variety of basic shapes (areas of effect) on this condensed field, while healing tends to be auto-targeted to the party. Your party consists of three characters: always Fia, plus two of the other four characters. However, you only control Fia; the other characters operate based on one of a handful of command settings (“all-out attack,” “support and healing,” “target who I target,” etc).

Systems and mechanics pile on top of one another in a bit of a convoluted mess. On top of everything I’ve already described, there is the five-element system, special attacks (using a match-three system, a nod to Puyo Puyo), equipment synthesis, fishing minigames, and cooking. Sometimes, as I look at everything that went into building this game, I feel like I’m staring at a “design by committee” monstrosity. And, when I notice that Compile Heart, Idea Factory, and Sting (how I long for more Dept. Heaven games) are all credited as developers, it’s no wonder!

However things came to be, the overall flow and gameplay loop of “accept quest, climb tower, fight enemies, survive, fight boss, return to base, prepare for next quest” works well. I attribute much of the success here to what happens back at the Magic Artes academy itself. Alongside the main quest, there are loads of side quests to unlock skills, obtain special equipment, learn new curry recipes, and even boost base stats. There is plenty to do, and even if the design isn’t sleek or flawless, I enjoyed what I experienced as I played through the game. And for those wondering, my own playtime was somewhere in the 20-hour range to see the end credits, though I was skipping most side quests because I just wanted to learn what happens to Fia and crew near the end.

Art and Music

One thing I must give this new Mado Monogatari props for: a decent opening animation sequence and accompanying music track! Since the days of the original PlayStation, I have adored good opening videos. Lately, I have seen developers skimping on production value here or entirely tossing out the idea of an opening video. And sure, there’s nothing wrong with that. But, let’s be real: Wild Arms is a decent and memorable RPG, but what’s the thing we most remember about it? It’s the intro, right?

Granted, I don’t think you want an intro so good that it outclasses the entirety of the game beneath. That would be like, in the metaphor of “judging a book by its cover,” buying a book because it has really awesome cover art, only to discover the book itself is gibberish. Fair enough. Part of me does want to argue that Fia and the Wondrous Academy‘s best feature is its introduction animation sequence, however. I love it so much!

The introduction paints a lovely picture. We’ve got bright, fun, stylized characters and monsters. And we’ve also got super fun, catchy, big band/jazz/pop music? “ASOVENTURE,” the opening theme song, has this killer fiddle running throughout, performed by Mai Ohtani (whose credits include Final Fantasy VII Rebirth and multiple SaGa titles). Vocalist Shachi Tsumugi brings a lively, bubbly sound, proving an expert at a bouncy staccato, especially in that surprising scaled-back outro! Fun fact: Shachi Tsumugi also recently recorded vocals for Atelier Yumia, so that’s a cool connection!

In-game, things are markedly less impressive. While the animation is smooth, the overall 3D character design and rendering look dated. PlayStation 3 dated. What Mado Monogatari lacks in technical prowess and performance, however, it makes up for with fantastic 2D character art and surprisingly catchy music. Alongside the happy-go-lucky vibes of the intro, which carry over into much of the academy music, there are some impressive tunes happening in each of the game’s dungeons. Some reminded me of the more intense puzzle music from the Zero Escape series. Others reminded me of the soft, breezy music of the forested areas in the Etrian Odyssey series. I wasn’t expecting this music to hit so hard. But it did.

Additionally, I have to offer praise to the game’s voiceover artists. This is Japanese-only audio, so if you were looking for English dubs, you’ve come to the wrong place. But the VA in this game was exactly what it needed to be: over the top, expressive, but not so silly as to make the experience unenjoyable.

Finals

Mado Monogatari: Fia and the Wondrous Academy earns a passing grade, but just barely. Honestly, I did have fun playing through this one… most of the time. But in a market saturated with clever and impressive games of a similar vein (say, Shiren the Wanderer: The Mystery Dungeon of Serpentcoil Island), there was no way I could allow Fia and her friends a spot on the honor roll. If you can’t get enough of anime-infused dungeon-crawling adventures, the latest in the Mado Monogatari series might be for you.

Do we judge a game irrespective of its peers, or view it within the context of what games currently offer? Naturally, this is entirely up to you, though it’s a question I’ve grappled with while playing Wuchang: Fallen Feathers. A paint-by-numbers soulslike, Wuchang makes no apologies for its similarities to Nioh, Wukong, Wo Long, and, of course, Dark Souls. More copycat than maverick, Wuchang succeeds in one important aspect: fun.

Wuchang: Fallen Feathers is a historical fiction in which China’s Ming Dynasty has reached the end of its prosperous lifespan, in part because of a feathery curse plaguing the people—or as a reaction to it. You, Wuchang, wake up with this devastating illness, though, curiously, you have not succumbed to madness; on the contrary, you seem more powerful than ever. Struck with amnesia, Wuchang ventures to find answers.

Story is a challenge with soulslikes, because Dark Souls cemented the contrast between mysterious and macabre atmosphere in which players are never truly sure what is going on, and the sense that the unknowable lore runs deep. Wuchang‘s similar attempt to play coy with lack of clarity is worsened by large swaths of gameplay between brief dialogue exchanges. Of course, if you can find the patience to stop hacking and slashing as you pick up several different items, the inventory offers some (and I do mean some) insights and flavor into what the hell’s going on.

Okay, so, the story’s serviceable—I guess—but what was that I said about fun earlier? Right, so, expect no surprises here in terms of gameplay. Have you played a Souls game before? If so, skip this paragraph. For the uninitiated, this is an action RPG that plays over-the-shoulder in third-person. Equip a one-handed sword, longsword, dual blades, spear, or axe, and mete out justice on Wuchang’s foes while maintaining a depleting-and-replenishing stamina gauge. Light or heavy attack with a couple special abilities per weapon, and you have your combat. Should you dodge, block, or parry incorrectly, a jug of juice allows healing in between shrines, where you refill Wuchang’s jug, level up with red mercury (dropped from enemies), customize gear, and teleport to other shrines (fast travel). Shrines are almost always tastefully placed apart from one another so as not to frustrate players, though far enough to foster a sense of urgency. Expect to find shortcuts to an old shrine in lieu of a new shrine.

Wuchang‘s gameplay boasts novel elements, though nothing that’s going to wow anyone. Still, I enjoyed these asides. For instance, each weapon type has its own skill tree that offers stats relevant to that weapon type (i.e., strength versus agility), as well as unique skills that can modify the two special abilities of the current weapon. Apart from active abilities, most of the tree’s ability nodes passively affect abilities or create benefits should Wuchang’s madness reach a certain percentage of the maximum allowance.

Madness accumulates as Wuchang kills humans or dies in combat. Players drop a percentage of their red mercury on death, depending on how mad Wuchang has become. Madness also impacts damage dealt and received, with higher madness generating greater risk/reward. Should Wuchang die with full madness, she may spawn an Inner Demon that she must defeat before earning her red mercury back, which can have its own benefits to earn in the form of tempering needles.

Tempering allows Wuchang to imbue her weapon with an element temporarily, which is critical in toppling mighty foes and bosses. Other needles provide passive benefits, such as improving the stat bonus on a weapon for greater damage or enhancing tempering more directly. Accessories allow players to further customize Wuchang to fit a playstyle. Most trinkets don’t offer much in the way of creativity, typically bolstering an element type, mitigating damage under certain conditions, and so on.

Enemies are the standard fare here: humans and monsters hide behind walls waiting to ambush our heroine, provide different movesets that we have to puzzle out so we can mindlessly thwart them the next hundred times we see them, and drop an excess of near-useless items. Bosses tend to be sword-wielding humans, so expect to memorize six or so attack patterns with a variety of pauses in between slashes so that you can figure out when it’s safe to take a swig or cast a spell.

Spells, on the other hand, make Wuchang feel like a more unique experience. With a well-timed dodge or some other means, players earn fleeting points of skyborn might, used to enhance physical abilities or cast a variety of spells. Initially, Wuchang can’t earn much skyborn might, and perfect timing on dodges can feel like a poor man’s parrying without the benefit of stunning the enemy, but after speccing out Wuchang on the skill tree, spells and unique abilities offer an exciting means of addressing each threat.

As I write this, I can’t help but notice how flippant I feel about the design on paper. Nothing here wows, and, honestly, I wish the developers didn’t try to piggyback the success of other franchises so much. That being said, Wuchang is thrilling to play, and after doing a pretty thorough run and finishing at about 48 hours, I can say with certainty that Wuchang held my attention from start to finish. One of the greatest accolades I offer any game is that when I wasn’t playing it, I was thinking about playing it; this is true for Wuchang.

I played on PS5 and ran into some stuttering, though it rarely impacted my success in combat. The seamless controls, with shortcuts that intuitively make sense, and natural flow of combat ensure no hurdles get between you and the thrill of battle. On occasion, I found unusual difficulty spikes from bosses, though this typically occurs at the end of “chapters” set in starkly different locations. Naturally, bosses increase in difficulty as the game continues, but remember that beating your head against a wall’s not going to do you any favors. Take a breath, step away, and come back with a new gameplan; review your armor, try different abilities, and maybe even freely respec the skill tree and try a new weapon.

I quibble with the unusual reliance on sworded human bosses which crafts a bland sensation in a game about monsters and corruption, but the colors, flashes, and art in general instill life beyond this lost opportunity. Wuchang’s dazzling environments, attention to detail in the most innocuous walls, and flashy abilities allure the eyes and keep the otherwise repetitive experience fresh. Similarly, the music, with its heavy reliance on befitting Chinese instrumentation complements the cinematic experience nicely. The English voice acting could use some work, with some characters unable to agree on the pronunciation of “Wuchang,” just as an example; the actual delivery of lines is competent, though.

Fans of soulslikes, you may be experiencing the fatigue I hit with metroidvanias. Unless a title really turns the sub-genre on its head, I’m not going near it. I get it. If you’re tired of copycats, maybe this one isn’t for you, because it’s really not doing anything you haven’t played before. On the other hand, if you love this genre and can’t wait for another high-budget adventure, Wuchang will scratch that itch nicely. Newbies to soulslikes may want to look elsewhere, as boss fights can feel extremely punishing, and even with all of the experience I have with these games, I found a few bosses absolutely brutal and ridiculous in their attack patterns. Another way of looking at Wuchang: Fallen Feathers is this: if a Souls game never existed and this hit store shelves, we’d all be clamoring about what a marvel and game-changer this is. Although extremely paint-by-numbers, fun is fun.

Ten years ago, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt graced our gaming platforms. It was an overnight smash hit, becoming the best-selling game of 2015 in the UK alone by its first week. CD Projekt RED, its developers, went from a rising star to a household name in a flash. It introduced millions of people (many of them casual gamers) not only to the Witcher universe, but to RPGs as a genre.

Since its release, it received two lengthy DLC expansions, Hearts of Stone and Blood and Wine. Both were released to critical acclaim, with the book series that the games are based on getting a high-budget Netflix series off the back of the games’ rampant success. This, in turn, boosted sales of the games, thanks to newfound interest in the universe and word-of-mouth about the series.

To celebrate this Witcher fever going around in 2022, CD Projekt RED released a lucrative next-gen update for The Witcher 3 for PS5, Xbox Series S/X, and PC that boasted a veritable laundry list of graphical improvements, bug fixes, and quality-of-life additions. Such features are relatively standard fare for remasters and major updates; however, what sets Witcher 3‘s apart is that it incorporates several community-created mods into the game, with the original developers of said mods working with CD Projekt RED to make them compatible with the update in some instances.

Suffice it to say, the next-gen update for Witcher 3 is functionally the most robust and feature-rich version of the game to date, with the PS5 and Xbox Series versions being dubbed the “Complete Edition” to signify this. But are the next-gen versions of The Witcher 3 indeed the richest and best way to play this game? Having spent about 100 hours with it on the PS5, I’m inclined to say yes, absolutely.

Despite being the third entry, The Witcher 3 was the entry point into the wider Witcher universe and lore for a lot of people (myself included). To that end, one of the best aspects of Witcher 3 is how masterful it is at onboarding newcomers. It doesn’t front-load you with long expository dialogue about the minutiae of the setting, nor does it require frequent visits to the in-game codex to get a grasp of the geopolitical happenings at the time the game is set. It certainly helps, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not strictly required reading.

This is entirely thanks to the game’s incredible writing, narrative, and cast. It takes a very “show, don’t tell” approach with a lot of the series’ core themes and concepts, which is great for newcomers, since a lot of the exposition is contextual within the scenes. You feel like a genius when you piece together the who, how, and why of every interaction in the story.

Of course, the phenomenal voice acting all around helps, with nary a dull performance in earshot. Doug Cockle and Denise Gough as Geralt and Yennefer, respectively, are perhaps the best of an already stellar bunch, lending great drama to the story and establishing a troubled yet loving connection between two people who have been adrift from each other for many years.

You don’t just get one story here, you get three for the price of one, since the Complete Edition also comes with the two expansions: Hearts of Stone and Blood and Wine. You may feel differently, but for my money, both of these expansions have better storylines and are better overall writing than the main one, and I love the main story. They’re no short adventures either; they encompass approximately the same length as the base game content-wise. This is doubly impressive, given the relatively quick turnaround to release them since the original launch.

When it comes to the Complete Edition, narrative is the area with the least change compared to the rest of the package, which makes sense. I mean, why improve upon (near) perfection? While a lot of games show their age as anniversary milestones go by, at least where storytelling and writing are concerned, Witcher 3 delivers truly timeless tales, from its main plot to the expansions and all of the side stories that are arguably just as compelling, if not more so.

Visuals are, of course, the area with the most improvement for the Complete Edition. Across PC, PS5, and Xbox Series S|X, Witcher 3 has been touched up with more detailed textures for its environments, characters, and enemies, which naturally is most noticeable when playing in 4K (which I recommend). For the console versions, the Performance Mode is actually closer to 4K than the Quality Mode, and features nearly all of the same graphical advantages at 60fps, albeit without ray-tracing.

I found myself switching between the two modes constantly for the first ten-or-so hours of Witcher 3 on PS5, since there are some environments, particularly Velen, where the ray-traced reflections and lighting really pop. However, the lure of being able to play in 60fps on Performance Mode won me over in the end. It’s not like there’s a major downgrade in choosing Performance either; Witcher 3 is a stunning game regardless of how you play it. Heck, even the Switch version is capable of looking gorgeous under the right conditions.

Personally, the gameplay changes in Complete Edition far and away embody my favorite areas of improvement, with some incredible quality-of-life changes that make a ton of difference to the overall experience when returning to this game. For instance, you have Quick Sign Casting and the ability to automatically apply oils in combat. The former all but eliminates the need to use the radial menu for switching your Witcher signs. Instead, they’re each assigned to different button combinations that you can access at will. This makes a huge difference in ensuring combat is much more seamless and fluid.

The latter change is optional, but it’s one that I am very grateful for. Since certain monsters require you to use various oils to exploit their weaknesses, you previously had to refer to your codex on how to best take each monster down. For many, this was a huge boon in regards to immersion and helped to sell the fantasy monster hunter wish fulfillment. For me personally, it was more tedious than anything. With “auto-apply oils” enabled, the game does this part for you, so you only need to focus on actual combat.

Combat was a sticking point for many people in the original version of Witcher 3, with many regarding it as the worst part of an otherwise incredible game. Many felt it merely amounted to mashing the attack buttons and dodging occasionally in a very basic hack-and-slash manner. For the Complete Edition, though the mechanics of combat are functionally the same, CDPR has incorporated Full Combat Rebalance 3, a very popular mod for the original version made by one of the developers in his spare time. This mod makes numerous background changes to the numbers and stats in the combat and leveling systems, adjusting them to be more challenging and rewarding across the board.

Whether it’s the changes from this mod or the addition of having an optional new combat camera that’s closer to Geralt and shifts dynamically depending on who he’s focusing on in an encounter, combat feels much better in Complete Edition. I didn’t take umbrage with it in the original version, but I can’t deny that it could feel very “button mash-y” at times. While that’s arguably still true to some extent, I personally enjoyed combat more in this playthrough than I ever did previously.

Like every one of the best RPGs, The Witcher 3 is one of those games where you discover something new every time you play it. Whether that’s a certain character or quest that you wrote off before, or a detail in the background that you hadn’t noticed until that playthrough, this game is a gift that keeps on giving. It’s wild to me that, all told, development on it only took CD Projekt RED four years and change to complete from start to finish. For such a timeless and deep game, that’s an incredibly fast turnaround.

One area that I definitely neglected in every playthrough of Witcher 3 until now, where I forced myself to get stuck into it, is probably what you’ve been screaming at me to mention: GWENT. I’m not even into card games, but dang it, when they’re right, they’re right. Gwent is too much fun to ignore, and I kick myself for being such a fool up until this playthrough. Yes, I now see what all of the fuss was about. I could dedicate another review entirely to Gwent, but it’s already beloved enough that I wonder what more is there to say. I mean, there’s a reason they spun it off into two other games. Not since Queen’s Blood in Final Fantasy VII Rebirth (or vice versa for most people) has a minigame, let alone a card game, grabbed my attention so firmly.

It may be a decade old now, but The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt hasn’t aged a day, in my opinion. After all, there’s a reason it’s become a north star for AAA RPGs in the years since, in the eyes of fans and developers. Even CDPR themselves failed to live up to their own expectations with Cyberpunk 2077, though, of course, they rectified this not long after.

The feeling of happening upon a village in your travels and discovering a whole questline that takes up hours of your time alongside a compelling story fraught with dicey moral dilemmas is truly unmatched, even now.

Happy anniversary, Witcher 3. Thank you, truly, for everything you are and everything you’ve done.