The cyberpunk aesthetic was brought back into fashion a few years ago, appropriately by Cyberpunk 2077, but otherwise was derived from a prediction from the ’80s of a tech-steeped future society. To a point, it becomes less and less science fiction and more reality as technology in the real world evolves to match or even surpass many of the advances that were once predicted. Neon Blood, which drapes itself in cyberpunk imagery, envisions a dystopian society that hits too close to home with plenty of neon, but not much more than you might see in a city today. This drains the typical cyberpunk aesthetic of its inherent meaning, reducing it to little more than the glowing fringe on main character Axel McCoin’s trenchcoat. And that’s not even the main problem with Neon Blood.

McCoin is a troubled detective, disillusioned and suffering from drug addiction. He hasn’t yet sunken to the depths of Disco Elysium‘s protagonist, but he’s on his way down there. His cybernetic implants are glitching, and this once-legendary cop is barely clinging to his sanity. It probably sounds like part of a cyberpunk story you might have seen before. Neon Blood has the individual parts of a cyberpunk neo-noir thriller like Cyberpunk 2077, but it has no idea how to weave them together into a cohesive experience. It starts out alright, with snappy, sharply pointed dialogue and some rain to set the mood in this pixelated adventure. Oddly, the writing breaks down to the point where it becomes overly verbose and sometimes incomprehensible, completely losing the plot by the end.

However, I can’t deny that Neon Blood looks good. I wouldn’t mind having McCoin’s awesome trenchcoat myself, which doesn’t seem too much to ask. The pixel characters recall the classic Blade Runner point-and-click game, and they stand out beautifully against the dingy, yet neon-lit 3D cityscape of Blind City. If you’re a fan of the general cyberpunk look, this is a beautiful, though derivative version of it. When you’re not running around trying to unravel a conspiracy, big moments are punctuated with beautifully animated cutscenes. Although the soundtrack is familiar simple synth sounds, it’s the cue that indicates this is indeed a cyberpunk tale.

There’s something off about the pacing of Neon Blood‘s narrative. Part of that is the poor writing. ChaoticBrain Studio is located in Spain, and considering it’s a small indie studio, I’m guessing English is not their writers’ first language. Translation issues are understandable, but some parts of the text seem to be written by a professional English writer, while others read as if from an automated translation service. There are many lines of dialogue that I had to read several times before determining they didn’t make sense or didn’t have much meaning to them. Though the prologue is cohesive, the writing starts to break down in the second part before becoming unintelligible. It’s a simple game; you can explore the environment a bit, chat with characters in the area, and even work a couple of crime scenes since McCain is a detective, after all. But ultimately, your only aim is to talk to the next person to advance the story. It’s disorienting when the game gives you a specific goal, but then it turns out you’re actually supposed to be doing something completely different.

Neon Blood is a short game, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. The story, however, is entirely predictable. It is almost like reading a first-draft storyboard. A down-on-his-luck cop in a dystopian city discovers a conspiracy and unravels it, the end. An arc is implied for McCoin, but it’s more of a short, squiggly line, as he never gets the time to develop, and the conclusion is too easy. Side characters seem intended to give a sense of familiarity that can’t arise as you barely spend time with any of them. The villain is obvious but doesn’t get enough space to feel sinister or whatever they’re supposed to be. The story literally takes a huge leap through time and space to abruptly begin the ending sequence. Some moments of soul-searching could have given this story the space it needs to breathe, but those moments don’t happen. The painful thing is that the writers didn’t need to move heaven and earth to make the story take off, just a little something more than what’s there. It was a world I would have liked to have immersed myself in, but I was kicked out before I gained my bearings. But overall, the decor that makes a story worth telling isn’t in Neon Blood. If you squeezed the entirety of something like Cyberpunk 2077 into about four hours, this would be it, but where’s the fun in that?

The gameplay is similarly bare bones. Combat is simple: You pick an action, the enemy attacks, repeat until one is dead. The amount of damage each attack deals varies wildly, so a boss fight showdown could potentially end in a couple of turns, while a run-of-the-mill battle could take several minutes. Though you gain more abilities over time, McCoin’s initial headshot and defibrillator for healing could get you through the entire game. There’s an items menu, but for some reason, those are locked for most of the game. You don’t even get an inventory or equipment. Unfortunately, there’s just nothing there. Aside from the basic combat, defeating bosses shifts you into a series of quicktime events where you watch McCoin absolutely dismantle his enemies, which are much more engaging than the basic fighting. Neon Blood would have been better served opting for more QTEs, à la Telltale Games, than tossing in the basic blocks of a bulkier combat system that never materializes.

It’s difficult to categorize what Neon Blood is intended to be, but not in a good way. There’s only one puzzle, which you have to solve twice. It has elements of point-and-click games, but as you have no inventory, your interaction with the world is limited. Combat exists enough to be irritating but not enough to feel like a substantial part of the experience, to where the quicktime events outshine it. Admittedly, it looks great, but Neon Blood would have been better off as a series of desktop wallpapers or a movie than as a game. Even if it was either of those things instead, it’d still be begging for context to complete the ideas it introduces.

It’s disappointing to say that Neon Blood is dripping with unrealized potential. Clearly, the developers put effort into the impressive visuals and the quicktime events, but equal effort was not extended to the writing in a game that so heavily depends on its narrative. It’s not like there’s so much cyberpunk-style media that there isn’t room for more, so it’s too bad this one doesn’t come together. Maybe someday, someone will flesh out Neon Blood to make it as human as it is machine.

Fantasian: Neo Dimension is a game filled with contrasts. Its turn-based gameplay systems are conventional but are nonetheless polished through the encounter design. Its story features intriguing setups but underwhelming payoffs. It echoes classic RPGs of decades past while including innovative features that many similar games would benefit from. And its combat starts out pitifully easy before rising to a frankly merciless degree.

Some of these contrasts complement one another while others clash quite jarringly. Occasionally, this means the experience feels uneven, but Neo Dimension ultimately emerges as a remarkably strong gameplay experience. Even a narrative lacking in substance isn’t enough to offset this. Its humble origins are on full display for this console port, but its many strengths still show through. My assessment will likely come off as more negative than positive at first, but make no mistake: Fantasian is an undeniably good game.

The game opens with a boy named Leo waking up in a world of machines after losing his memory, pursued moments later by mechanical assailants. After escaping with the help of a pair of friendly robots, he begins searching for clues to alleviate his amnesia. He finds help in the form of Kina, a fortune teller’s apprentice, and Cheryl, a princess he’d previously stood up on a date. As the three gradually uncover more clues about Leo’s history and goals, they’re brought into conflict with a malevolent deity known as Vam and a strange mechanical plague he has inflicted upon the world.

Fantasian’s plot is simple, which invokes a nostalgic feeling for similarly straightforward older RPGs. Given that Final Fantasy creator Hironobu Sakaguchi serves as the game’s producer, this is only appropriate. But that simplicity, combined with a lack of direction, makes it difficult to describe its story so that it sounds novel or interesting. Leo and company spend the first ten hours of the game wandering around looking for ways to jog his memory, only stumbling into the broader plot by happenstance. Once the reveals start dropping, it feels like there are still important questions left hanging, and the answers the game provides aren’t substantial enough. It’s suggested that Leo’s pre-amnesia personality was markedly different from the one he has during the story, but nothing much comes of this. It’s not often that a non-silent main character ends up being the least interesting member of an RPG party, but Leo fits that description.

The game’s much more open second section (which makes up the majority of the playthrough) compounds many of these issues. The story’s structure is much looser here, as the player can pursue main story objectives in their preferred order. It’s difficult to justify this structure in its current form with the detrimental effect it has on the party as a narrative unit. Most characters join the party based on the player’s chosen objective, meaning that there’s no set order to ensure a given character’s presence at plot events. As such, there’s little opportunity for them to interact. Even the few members of the party guaranteed to be present at all times are bizarrely underutilized. One particularly jarring example of this is a last-minute romance that’s treated completely seriously despite the characters involved barely speaking to one another across the entire game.

The freedom offered to the player does little to offset this since main quests have concrete recommended levels anyway. A more linear experience would probably have served the story much better with no expense to the gameplay. Thankfully, a few characters have an acceptable amount of depth to latch onto, and each of them at least has some form of a character arc. Some of them work better than others, but that any of them work is good enough for me. It helps that the vocal work is solid all around, even if it isn’t transcendently good.

On a more positive note, a great deal of effort has gone into visually crafting the world of Fantasian, and it’s paid off. Each environment’s design consists of photographed dioramas that were physically built by the designers. There’s a texture to the locales that feels stunningly real, even if the character models don’t always look like they fit. The UI could also do more to hide its roots as an Apple Arcade exclusive game, but they’re serviceable and unobtrusive. A score by industry legend Nobuo Uematsu compliments the atmosphere, and while it’s nowhere near my favorite of his works, it absolutely suits the tone that this game aims for. If the battle music ends up feeling grating, Neo Dimension at least adds the option to select from multiple Final Fantasy battle tracks on the fly.

The amount of effort that went into making this style work is worth all the praise in the world, but its implementation isn’t perfect. For instance, the need to shift between specific camera angles depending on the player’s position within an area means the player has to come to a complete stop in order for the control stick to adjust its directional input to the new camera angle. Shifting without stopping after the transition results in the player moving according to the direction of a camera angle they’re no longer seeing. This never stops being annoying and almost makes me wish the game straight-up implemented tank controls instead.

Thankfully, the game’s strengths in exploration and questing are enough to offset other annoyances. Fantasian: Neo Dimension is quite good at highlighting where to find sidequests and even has a feature providing hints for finding rare loot without making the process an effortless chore. While the sidequests have about as much going for them narratively as the main plot, they still offer worthwhile equipment and boss fights if you put the time in. And make no mistake, you want to be seeking out both of those things as much as you can because combat ends up as the saving grace of Fantasian.

Combat is uncomplicated. The most unique feature is the ability to curve certain moves to line up multi-hit attacks, but there are some inspired mechanics surrounding it. Early on, the players learn the function of the Dimengeon Machine, a device allowing them to stow away a limited amount of previously fought enemies to fight later. Using this system wisely allows for speedy dungeon traversal, expedited grinding, and much more frantic scuffles with regular enemies than in a typical RPG with random encounters. Even in this re-release, the Dimengeon Machine still feels remarkably fresh.

On the other end of combat, the game’s latter half is home to a cavalcade of great bosses. While the difficulty spikes in this section are incredibly jarring, even on Neo Dimension’s new lower difficulty option, there are always paths toward progress and victory. They’re not always obvious, and some bosses are ridiculously aggravating, but a game with a bit too much challenge is preferable in my eyes to a game that’s too easy. Victory feels like a result of good planning and understanding of each encounter. Rarely is any given fight just a standard exchange of the player’s strongest attack skills followed by a round of healing. Bosses have unique gimmicks or patterns that demand the player seriously consider their options. Each character’s skill list is refreshingly lean, and the ability to reallocate skill points at leisure makes tuning your party for each unique encounter a breeze. And since party members can swap in and out of combat instantly, those options aren’t limited by a three-person party cap.

Fantasian is commendable in how it can make gameplay this conventional this engaging. I’ve played so many RPGs that feel like they’re on autopilot that seeing one requiring this much involvement was a genuine delight. I wish more games in this genre had bosses this good and mechanics so compelling. Granted, many of those games also feature better stories around the fighting, so I suppose it ultimately evens out.

Whether or not you choose to invest time in Fantasian: Neo Dimension comes down to your priorities. Are you willing to sit or speed through a bland story to get to the meaty gameplay? Or is a more gripping narrative necessary to get you through a game that clocks in at a few dozen hours? It’s hard for me to say what I personally find more important, but I ultimately came out of Fantasian glad that I’d played it. And if I had to guess, I think that its flaws are forgivable enough to be worth it for most others.

I’ve heard of monster training and monster ranching, but monster farming is a new one. In Farmagia, you get to do all of those. In Harvest Moon, which currently lives on as Story of Seasons, I always felt one of my biggest accomplishments was building an extension to my house or barn. It signified moving into a new phase of my sim life and operations as an entrepreneur and family person. Marvelous, known for their farming and farming-adjacent games like Rune Factory, are going for a major renovation on the genres they made their home, trying something vastly different with Farmagia while not completely abandoning farming. It’s a new world for Marvelous, but does this change in direction bear fruit? 

Let’s address the elephant in the ground first: Growing and harvesting monsters as if they were crops is a weird premise for a game, and there’s no point where it gets any less weird. A few of the Pokémon-esque monster buddies are plant-like, such as turnips with a face, so that makes at least a little sense thematically. Much odder is growing species from seeds with water and fertilizer that look like actual animals, such as the fluffy fox-wolf hybrid Fangs, plucking them out of the ground, and suddenly having a litter of grown adults ready to fight. I don’t understand the decision to go this route because the farming in Story of Seasons includes raising animals in a more natural way. But it is what it is, and you can’t put your babies back in the ground from whence they came. 

That out of the way, Farmagia is an ambitious effort, both narratively and in gameplay. It somewhat forsakes Marvelous’ traditional farming formula but also tries not to stray too far from it. It’s an odd attempt at creating a hybrid with a moderately successful yield that tastes good but has a funny smell. It boasts inspired combat but is more of a glancing blow than a solid hit. It has the trappings of a Shonen anime that was never released. It adheres to RPG tropes yet takes them in intriguing yet bizarre directions. It’s an odd duck that was plucked out of the ground for some reason, and that confounding choice is symbolic of many similarly strange choices made in the overall design. Yet, it manages to be enjoyable, though it had me scratching my head even as I was feeling it in my chest. 

The story takes a roundabout route but eventually gets where it should by the end, despite a bumpy ride and going in some spacey directions. There is no way to guess where it would wind up based on the premise. Even if you like the eventual destination, you must be willing to sit through an uneven 30+ hours to get there. You take on the role of Ten, a budding farmagia. Let me take a step back to explain that a farmagia is a denizen of the world of Felicidad who grows and harvests monsters to fight with, generally in protection of their communities. Basically, “farmagia” is a farming mage. Farmagia is largely a war story. Ten is part of a group in rebellion against an overwhelming conquering effort by a powerful militaristic coalition. The hero’s goal is to protect innocent lives and return the world to its previously peaceful state.  

Though Ten and his party of friends are undoubtedly the heroes of this story, a lot happens to take the story away from them. Each friend has their own episodic side stories, but Ten is a typical hero of destiny. It doesn’t help that two of his male companions are essentially the same character with differently colored spiky hair. Some of these side scenarios feel a bit forced because of awkward plotting. And the second half is largely a rehash of the first with unnecessary, overly elaborate backstories. Though that all sounds negative, the narrative picks up when it focuses on its villains, whose squabbles over power make for more intriguing stories. And there’s a point where the narrative starts going wild with new revelations about this world that kept me curious to see the outcome. 

The segments involving Ten needing to gain a pact from elemental spirits to aid in his crew’s quest are the most fascinating aspects of Farmagia. You can’t have a farming game without romance, but these one-on-one relationships take that tradition in a different direction. All of these spirits happen to manifest themselves as women, and Ten must curry favor with them. That’s not to say that these relationships become romantic or that they go on dates, but that’s not to say they aren’t at all hinting at romance either. Mostly, these optional segments serve to flesh out more about the lore of Felicidad and details about society, such as denizens’ harmonious relationships with tame monsters. It’s quite poignant to learn about these characters who cannot live like ordinary people yet find themselves fascinated by the everyday lives of mortals. These segments are unexpectedly moving and more human than much of the rest of the narrative, even though they’re removed from the main story. 

To improve those relationships and advance in the game, you must head outside of town and do combat. Farmagia has a unique battle system that’s a cross between real-time strategy games and Pikmin. You fight your way through a series of levels, similar to a roguelike, with up to four groups of monsters in tow. As you encounter enemies, you essentially fling your monsters at them by group. Keys to success include wearing down enemies’ KO meter (similar to stagger in most other games) and getting the timing down on perfect guards, which is exactly what it sounds like but much more forgiving than your average Souls-like. It’s exhilarating but also feels on-rails, as the game guides nearly every move with its many prompts.  

If that makes it sound like combat is at odds with itself, that’s how battle preparation feels, too. All monster groups fall into four types: close-range, long-range, support, and formation (basically defensive). Though different species of monsters fall under each type, you don’t have the option to mix and match monster types for battles, i.e., you can’t have two close-range groups. Though the different species of monsters have unique characteristics, those differences seem negligible, considering enemies have weaknesses against specific types of monsters rather than different monster species. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with making a game simple or easy. But Farmagia gets caught up making its systems feel more complicated than they actually are while also going overboard to guide you through rather than letting you make your own decisions. The game is still fun to a degree, but it’s torn between wanting to present complexity and simplicity and succeeds at neither. 

It’s unfortunate that farming’s primary purpose in Farmagia is to feed into combat, though it doesn’t do that adequately either. Considering it’s made by Marvelous, the farming aspect feels overlooked and tacked on to a different game. It feels lacking because the only thing you farm is monsters — no vegetables or any other items. But even farming monsters that you use in combat has a small impact on your experience. Most of the monsters you grow go toward research: on tools to improve farming efficiency and unlock new species of monsters. Especially compared to something like Story of Seasons, farming feels significantly stripped down compared to other farming-dedicated games. There’s no time limit on the farming segments, just the typical energy meter to cap how much you can do each day. There’s no day-night cycle, no changing of seasons, and no changes in Felicidad’s always-sunny weather for a change of pace. Farming is easily the most disappointing aspect of Farmagia. 

There’s also the loss of the naturalistic charm and subtle beauty of typical Marvelous farming games. It’s one thing if there’s an artistic reason to create a different mood for a different kind of experience, but that charm is something Farmagia would have only benefitted from. A big issue is the disconnect because you travel between the different areas you need to visit completely via menus. It loses the physical aspect of having to walk from place to place which gives the world a quaint, lived-in, personal quality. In an odd and likely inadvertent way, Farmagia demonstrates the sacrifice peaceful societies experience when they are forced into wartime. 

As in any great Shonen anime, the eclectic soundtrack is top-notch, ranging from cheery takes on traditional Japanese music to sweeping choral arrangements and wild power metal. When the story goes for the emotions, the sounds are there to match. The voice acting is in English, and it’s fine if unmemorable. Visually, the characters and the whole world of Farmagia wouldn’t be out of place on Crunchyroll. The physical characters don’t appear much outside of combat and farming. The story delivery is visual novel-style: static portraits with a text box underneath and a handful of short anime cutscenes in impactful moments. For the controls, mapping every single button on the controller to get consistent use is perhaps commendable. However, there are times, mainly when you’re fighting many enemies at once, that targeting is terrible regardless of whether you use lock-on or not. 

Overall, when Farmagia succeeds, it does so in spite of itself. The story has its moments, though you have to do some digging to discover the best ones. Whatever the deal with combat is, it’s at least functional. It’s disappointing that farming, of all things, is treated as an afterthought. But the concept is a weird one. Marvelous may have been better off leaving sleeping monsters where they lie (in the ground, where they were grown). 

Horizon Zero Dawn made a splash in 2017. Full of surprise, mystery, and AAA-production value, gamers near and far adored this new intellectual property. Being a new IP is risky business, especially with the sort of budget this title had. When sequels and reboots are the soup of the decades, a publisher (Sony) really needs to have faith in the team and project. Which leads us to the Horizon Zero Dawn Remastered! Is this worth your time and money? Kind of!

Aloy, our lead protagonist, is an orphan under the care of an outcast, which makes her an outcast. The setting is a harsh world in which humans survive in low-tech tribes amongst animal machines. Up until recently, the machines and humans lived with a quiet understanding, but something has begun to corrupt the machines as they aggress on humans and their territories. We get to see Aloy grow up and try to earn her way back into this new, old civilization, but wouldn’t ya know it? Something turns everything on its head.

Captivating, unique setting? Check. A heroine worth rooting for? Check. Inspiration to explore? Check. Does the story continue to deliver? Absolutely. Creating an engaging premise and introduction is hard enough, but meeting expectations to the end is even harder. Having played Horizon Forbidden West first, this was my initial time venturing into the wilds everyone else got to experience in 2017. Although I had a pretty good idea of what Zero Dawn entails after playing Forbidden West, I still enjoyed the pace, flow, and rolling out of all the details touched upon in the second game.

I will try to avoid comparing to Forbidden West too much, because it’s not exactly fair. While sequels don’t always improve on the forebearer, Forbidden West absolutely does. That doesn’t discount Zero Dawn’s quality, but remember that Zero Dawn is over seven years old, and while not retro by any stretch of the imagination, game design and scope have evolved over time. If you’re like me and have played Forbidden West first, don’t expect the same caliber of game.

That’s the key here: a good story is a good story is a good story, but great gameplay doesn’t always age as well as one might hope. For its time, Horizon Zero Dawn was undoubtedly an astonishing work, and it’s still a great game, but it lives in Forbidden West’s shadow in almost every respect. Did I have fun? I absolutely did, and I’m glad I got to play Zero Dawn in all its shiny new coat of paint.

For the uninitiated, Horizon Zero Dawn Remastered is a third-person action RPG. Combat isn’t as slow and calculated as a Souls game, but can feel as difficult at times, especially if one ventures where they shouldn’t given that this is a large open world to explore. Players sport a few different kinds of ranged weapons, like bows and slingshots that can use various ammo types, including explosive, ice, and electricity. Scanning enemies to find weaknesses helps choose an ammo type, but ranged combat isn’t always an option when a giant rhino-machine is stampeding toward you. Melee is a reasonable option with its own perks, as players can more easily knock down enemies or knock off armor bits.

Harvesting machine parts is intimate to Zero Dawn’s gameplay loop, as players can use machine parts to craft better weapons and armor with them, but the variety and options are significantly lacking compared to Forbidden West. I was honestly shocked at how fleshed out the sequel is compared to Zero Dawn in this respect, but a part of me enjoyed the simplicity, as it allowed me to focus on the other bits, like questing and exploring. While most quests devolve into following tracks, collecting a bounty, or retrieving machine parts, the world is so stunning and rich that any small motivation to go out in search of just about anything is a joy.

I’ve seen some videos, playthroughs, and pictures of the first iteration of Horizon Zero Dawn, and it’s still no slouch by today’s standards, but playing the remaster on my PlayStation 5 felt like playing a new AAA title. I sometimes wished I could just turn off enemies and walk around freely to take everything in. Climb a mountain and stare at the horizon as the sun sets and rises. The team who worked on the remaster completely pulled this beautiful game into the modern era, giving it the respect it deserves.

That being said, not all is glorious in this remaster. Keeping in mind this is a remaster and not a remake, some odd quirks remain, like annoying inventory limits, grinding to find necessary machine or animal parts, and difficult-to-find ledges to climb and find collectibles. Compared to Forbidden West, Horizon Zero Dawn Remastered can feel like a slog for the aforementioned reasons. I also had a few technical issues, like ladders and ledges floating in mid-air where I presume a mountain should have been, leaving a collectible unattainable, frequent crashes, and pop-in; these grievances rarely occurred, except for the crashes, but even the crashes didn’t hurt too much because Zero Dawn auto-saves frequently.

[Editor’s Note: Developer Nixxes may have addressed some of the issues above in patches, including Patch 1.06, which was released just two days before we published this review.]

The audio, of course, is fantastic, with all the main characters boasting talented voice actors. Horizon Zero Dawn Remastered’s music kind of falls into the background, but it’s always appropriate and accentuates the moment. More importantly, the ambient noise, like all the naturey sounds to bring the wilds to life, creates a real sense of immersion. Aloy’s yelps and thuds when she hits the ground sound good, but I could do with fewer repeated lines; minor issues like these took me out of the moment, but only briefly. Some of the less central characters don’t have the best acting, but they weren’t so bad as to disrupt the game. Rather, they felt charming. What I didn’t enjoy was the odd echo that happens whenever a character speaks from far away. I get that the developers were trying to create a sense of distance, but the effect is terrible, if I’m being brutally honest.

In a word, Horizon Zero Dawn Remastered is stunning. If you missed this title because you didn’t have a PlayStation 4, then this is a worthwhile purchase. Don’t expect this to be Forbidden West-caliber, but it doesn’t have to be. If you’ve already played Zero Dawn, this is much harder to recommend unless you’re a super fan. The remaster undoubtedly looks better, but I’m not sure this warrants shelling out the cash or investing precious time, unless you’ve been meaning to give this game another go.

[Editor’s Note 2: For what it’s worth, a $10.00 USD PS5 upgrade is available for owners of the PS4 edition, with eligibility details in the footnotes of the Horizon Zero Dawn Remastered PlayStation Store page.]

As some of you probably know, I’m a huge fan of the Horizon series. I thoroughly enjoyed both Horizon Zero Dawn and Horizon Forbidden West, as well as their respective DLC expansions, and I am eagerly awaiting a third, possibly final, installment. But despite my love of Guerrilla Games’ post-apocalyptic, open-world RPGs, a LEGO spin-off game was decidedly not on my bingo card. And yet, here we are: LEGO Horizon Adventures is a brick-filled adaptation of the first Horizon game, with plenty of LEGO zaniness thrown in for good measure. But is it worth the $60 price tag? Let’s find out!

LEGO Horizon Adventures presents an abridged version of Horizon Zero Dawn’s story. Aloy is an outcast of the Nora tribe and hopes tribe leader Teersa might be able to tell her about her mother. However, when Aloy and her mentor Rost approach Mother’s Heart, the tribe’s main settlement, they witness sun-worshipping cultists carting Teersa and other tribe members off in cages, and rush to save them. What follows is a series of bite-sized adventures where Aloy and her friends explore the wilds while battling machines, cultists, and a mysterious red orb that wants to corrupt all living things.

The Old Ones and the apocalypse that destroyed them, the political intrigues of Meridian, and the Banuk lands from The Frozen Wilds are all absent, as are many secondary characters — though you can buy outfits to dress up like some of them. The roster of playable characters maxes out at four, which feels a little small to me, but then again, the story’s simplicity and tight focus on primary villain Helis and his spherical master don’t really allow the rest of the cast a reason to be in the narrative. What LEGO Horizon Adventures has in abundance is humor. Characters are constantly joking, making fourth-wall-breaking references, and generally behaving like caricatures of their counterparts from the main games. And that’s before we get into all the anachronistic LEGO outfits you can wear and wacky stuff you can build in Mother’s Heart, which becomes your home base. Want to make an amusement park — complete with roller coasters, popcorn stands, and balloons — and then stroll around in a chicken suit? You can do that! And it is hilarious.

When you’re not customizing Mother’s Heart into a smorgasbord of random chaos, you’re traveling to one of four distinct zones, like the Sacred Lands or Sunfall Desert. While LEGO Horizon Adventures doesn’t feature the realistic visuals of its inspiration, the LEGO graphics are nonetheless impressive. Unlike other LEGO games, almost everything you see here is made to look like it’s built out of real LEGO bricks. Even effects like fire and flowing water look like LEGO pieces, and the cumulative effect is that you feel like you’re playing in a real LEGO world. This is especially cool when it comes to various machines you get to fight, because if you’re like me, you’ve wanted to see more Horizon LEGO machines ever since they released the LEGO Tallneck set in 2022.

Not only are most of the machines from Zero Dawn represented in all their LEGO glory, but the main mechanic of targeting components to deal extra damage and weaken machines is faithfully recreated. If you remember the weak points from the main game, they’re pretty much the same here, as are the machines’ various attacks. It’s pretty neat that they recreated the combat so well in a LEGO format — even down to human enemies being much too simple and boring compared to their machine counterparts.

My only complaints about the visuals and gameplay in LEGO Horizon Adventures is that they’re a little restrictive, so to speak. The camera is often aimed slightly downward in a semi-isometric style, and you can’t move it around. Not only does this mean you can’t fully take in the beautiful LEGO world around you, but it can also make combat a little more difficult since you can’t pan the camera to see enemies off screen. This is particularly awkward when you first enter a combat area. By default, you land in the familiar Horizon stealth grass, but enemies are often far off screen and you can’t see them without leaving cover and exposing yourself — which makes the stealth kind of superfluous. 

On a more macro level, the mission structure of LEGO Horizon Adventures does not lend itself well to longer play sessions, since the gameplay loop starts to feel repetitive as you notice you’re moving through the same areas over and over. Finally, I was a little let down by the lack of replayability once you finish the short 7–10 hour main story. You can certainly spend a lot of extra time unlocking all the character skills and buildables for Mother’s Heart, but once you finish the story missions and apex hunts, you can’t replay them. Instead, you can go on expeditions in each zone, which are basically a selection of random areas and enemies to fight. There are only four zones, though, so you can imagine this gets a little old after a while. Co-op play certainly opens the door for more fun, but for $60, I can see some not finding the amount of content worth the price.

Finally, some words about audio. Several actors reprise their roles from the main series, such as Ashly Burch (Aloy) and JB Blanc (Rost). There’s a delightful level of excitement and exaggeration in their dialogue that fits the much brighter and happier tone of LEGO Horizon Adventures. Those who have new voices do a good job fitting their characters. In particular, Sylens — voiced by the late Lance Reddick in the main series — is now voiced by Tim Russ, of Star Trek: Voyager fame. The music is also quite pleasing and fits both the style of the main games and the Saturday Morning Cartoon feel of this LEGO adventure. In fact, several motifs from the Horizon series appear throughout the game, and there’s even some pretty groovy dance music to bop your head to.

All in all, LEGO Horizon Adventures is a cute and fun experience that I think both LEGO and Horizon fans will enjoy. The story is an amusing adaptation of Zero Dawn’s plot, the characters are often hilarious, the gameplay is entertaining — if a little repetitive — and it definitely nails the feeling of playing in a large Horizon-themed LEGO set. It is fairly short, and there aren’t a ton of things to do once you finish the main content, so your mileage may vary regarding how much you feel it’s worth the $60 price tag. But if you’re really into LEGO or Horizon, you will probably find plenty to like about this unexpected but welcome spin-off.

Slay the Princess originally released on PC in October 2023, but being the console-loving fiend I am, I missed it the first time around. Little did I know that luck would soon smile upon me, as one year later, Slay the Princess – The Pristine Cut made its way onto all modern platforms. I soon found myself on a path in the woods.

Slay the Princess is a visual novel, but one quite unlike any you have played before. You take the role of an unseen protagonist who finds themselves in a shadowy forest, with only the disembodied voice of the Narrator for company. He insists that you make your way to the cabin that lies at the end of the path, as in the cabin is a Princess. He tells you that you’re here to slay her. If you don’t, it will be the end of the world. The choices you make next determine not only the course of events to follow, but also the type of reality you reach.

Slay the Princess proceeds in distinct stages. Shortly, you find yourself in the cabin, a simple, barren space, and here you meet your first major decision. In front of you stands a table, and on it, a knife. Do you take the knife, or leave it? You may already be questioning the Narrator’s insistence on the death of the Princess. Can she really be all that bad? Whatever you choose here influences the nature of the occupant, entrapped on the floor below.

Because, you see, multiple Princesses await you down there, each a subtle variation on the central theme; the same blade with a different handle. On the stairs leading downward, you might be greeted by a timid voice, hesitant and afraid. Alternatively, you could hear hostile tones, expectant with the promise of brutal violence, delivered in the dark. After your first encounter with the Princess, you end up back on the path, ready to return to the cabin. This time though, the Princess’ form will be markedly different, depending on the aspect of the Princess you have invoked. Each Princess has an archetypal name, like cards in a twisted Tarot deck.

In terms of gameplay, as in most visual novels, you select actions and responses from a set list. Sometimes, choices marked with the word “Explore” appear, which allow you to expand your knowledge of the situation in relative safety, although you find no certainty in Slay the Princess. Prevaricating too long can set off a chain of events you might not be ready for. Equally, charging blindly forward has its own consequences. As you continue, new voices emerge, generated by your actions, with names such as “The Smitten” and “The Opportunist.” Like The Narrator, they introduce insistent interjections, each framing events from their own biased perspectives, adding a distinctive flavor to each run.

It’s an enthralling experience, brought to us by the talents of a small, yet majestic, team. Tony Howard-Arias is the writer and designer of the piece, performing both duties like a king. When it comes to RPGs, the strength of the narrative almost always speaks to me the most, something even more important when it comes to visual novels. Even so, the writing in these games does not always approach the standard of the best literature. You cannot level this accusation at Slay the Princess. Howard-Arias has created a script threaded through with black humor, the sort of comedy that comes to you in the dark of the night, as the last drinks slowly empty. Bound to this is a web of horror, pain, and uncertainty that constantly caught me off guard and left me contemplating each scenario long after it ended. Howard-Arias interrogates the very nature of visual novels, with their focus on exploring different potential paths, and makes the repetition inherent to the form a key part of the interaction. For instance, The Narrator does not remember the resetting of the world around him, and the Voices make you question whether his recalling this fact would be a good idea. The Narrator often uses repeated phrases, such as saying, regarding the Princess, that “slaying her is probably doing her a favor” after describing the unpleasant condition of the stairs leading down to the basement. Howard-Arias uses this as a powerful tool to subvert our expectations by distorting or inverting these phrases at unexpected moments.

Equally important is the work of Abby Howard, who provides the art for Slay the Princess. Black and white visuals prevail: pencil sketches that convey more to the viewer than any fully-colored, 3D-rendered approach could possibly do. She injects every environment with a sense of foreboding; even the most innocent location feels like it could slip from under us and send us plummeting into some horrific unreality. The imagery is almost Lovecraftian, with a sense that this whole universe is waiting until the stars are right, which is also suggested to us by the uncertain nature of the realm we visit. Howard’s different depictions of the Princess display a range and inventiveness that would support an entire series of books, let alone one game. From the plaintive looks of The Damsel, with her oversized eyes and fairytale dress, to the demonic visage of The Adversary, with her horns and forked tail, the designs bring each incarnation to life in unique ways.

Howard is equally skilled at depicting the actions that take place during your encounters. She creates an inviting castle room laden with food for an enticing meal, with the same skill she uses to illustrate the damage caused by slicing edges rending flesh. A measured use of comic book-style storytelling and some light animation supports the art, somehow more effective because of the restraint in its usage. Although not directly akin, there are some similarities to the work of Junji Ito, in the way Howard distorts the ordinary to disconcerting effect and twists the human body into multitudes of disturbing forms. While sometimes shocking, the principal effect is one of alienation, never leaving you on a secure footing for any length of time.

The voice work of Jonathan Sims as The Voices in Your Head supports this, together with Nichole Goodnight as The Princess. Sims’ performance is wonderfully shaped, with slight differences between the Voices that make each distinct despite obviously being the work of one person. He is effectively having an extended conversation with himself, which must be challenging. The interplay between the voices can be hilarious, but Sims also interjects vulnerability where needed, putting you off balance in key moments. Goodnight pulls off a similar feat, with each archetype requiring a substantially different approach. However, we also need to believe that all these versions of the Princess could be the same being. Goodnight offers an underlying cohesiveness to her work that helps to convince that this is the case. She can make you pity the Princess or scare you to death in equal measure. My one minor criticism of the voices is that voiced lines occasionally get slightly cut off at the end of sentences. However, this happens very infrequently and did not significantly disrupt my immersion or enjoyment.

Wrapped around it all is the impressive score by composer Brandon Boone. Slay the Princess has a central musical theme, built around the simple repetition of four notes on a piano, at once both eerie and lyrical. From this lynchpin, Boone spins out new variants for each Princess archetype to bring out the essence of those incarnations while still reflecting back on the original theme, like images spinning outwards from a murky moonlit pool. The Adversary’s motif is a favorite, with its booming chimes evoking force and inevitability, as is The Spectre’s, which is suitably haunting with its echoing tones and ghostly moans.

Of course, this is The Pristine Cut, so I should mention some of the changes in this version. Three chapters — The Den, The Fury, and Apotheosis — each feature extra content. A distinct Chapter 3 has also been added for The Specter, The Damsel, and The Princess. I have tried some additional content and can confirm that, even as someone new to the title, it is of a similar quality to the rest of the material and provides a worthwhile reason for veterans to revisit Slay the Princess.

Slay the Princess – The Pristine Cut is a work of video game art that should not be missed by anyone fond of this form of the genre. It takes you down the stairs, traps you in the basement, and forces you to confront yourself in a dark mirror that wears a tiara. Pick up the blade. You’re going to need it to face what’s down there.

(Minor spoiler Warning for the first Shadow Hearts)

For a significant chunk of my life, Shadow Hearts: Covenant has occupied a small but unshakable space in my mind. I was aching to play an obscure RPG of incredible rarity with an unconventional alt-history setting and horror-lite atmosphere, and that feeling persisted well into 2024. Reviewing it was more for the sake of scratching a lifelong itch than anything else.

With that itch finally scratched, I realized that the legendary reputation I had built up for this game was not perfectly congruent with my play experience. I suppose, in some ways, this could be considered disappointment, but it was probably inevitable given how long I ruminated about someday playing it. In the end, I can still declare that if you’re lucky enough to track it down, Covenant is a weird but also very worthwhile investment.

The game’s hero is once again Yuri Hyuga, the god-slaying protagonist of the first Shadow Hearts. Following the previous installment’s bad ending, Covenant finds Yuri defending a French village from the German Army during World War I, which earns him the attention of a mysterious organization. They soon find and attack him with a magic artifact that curses him and seals his ability to transform into a cornucopia of different demons. Now, Yuri finds himself on the run alongside Karin Koenig, a defecting German officer incensed by her allies’ willingness to kill civilians; Blanca, a proud white wolf; and Gepetto, a creepy old puppeteer who I wish wasn’t in this game. More allies join the party at a steady pace, including pro-wrestling vampire Joachim, dancer Lucia, Russian royal Anastasia Romonov, and taciturn samurai Kurando.

While the eclectic cast can certainly be entertaining, the story they take part in is wildly uneven. At best, there’s some half-decent political intrigue and thematic work in the second half concerning how most human conflict is based around a borderline futile search for personal happiness. There are even some great individual moments with genuine heart and fun cameos from real-world figures. However, a huge chunk of the first half is dedicated to the party simply trying to find the series’ resident exposition dumper Roger Bacon to find out what they should be doing, followed by an arc where they’re put up against mad monk Grigori Rasputin, who doesn’t have much going for him as a villain.

Even when the second half offers an intriguing shift in antagonist that will shock you if you played the first game, it still feels undercooked. Yuri is the only party member with significant emotional stakes in the plot, and it’s difficult to discern why some characters even tag along with him beyond a vague sense of camaraderie. Even Karin, the heroine, largely exists just to fruitlessly long for Yuri and catalyze one of the most unintentionally hilarious plot twists I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing. It all feels like a rough draft, not helped by the spotty voice acting, stilted writing, and subtitles that often fail to match the dialogue. Those subtitles are also off by default, so you can miss some of Blanca’s “dialogue” if you don’t realize subtitles are available. While (apparently) the Japan-exclusive Director’s Cut adds some much-appreciated scenes to flesh out certain characters, what little I could find in English didn’t meaningfully change my impression of them.

That said, the party does flourish when they’re allowed to let loose and be goofy. There’s a lot of laughs to be had when everyone is hanging out and talking to each other about something other than the main plot. Yuri is especially refreshing in how dismissive he is toward most of the game’s absolute madness. One of my favorite sideplots involves Yuri and Karin meeting with the Soul of the Judgment Ring to receive upgrades, only for Yuri to poke fun at him, learn that he’s a beleaguered family man, and ultimately befriend him.

That’s far from the goofiest thing that happens, especially if you decide to do all the sidequests. Blanca’s Wolf Bout tournament, helping a fortress full of ghosts rest in peace, and scouring the game’s many optional dungeons are only a few examples of its side content. While they’re mostly devoid of strong narrative beats, almost every sidequest features some degree of delightfully bizarre comedy, though not all of them hit the mark. Joachim’s “Man Festival” could be less tedious and have far fewer gay and Indian stereotypes, but that’s thankfully a minor portion of the game. And most optional content isn’t missable, so you don’t need to constantly consult a guide to see everything on offer.

It’s not all fun and laughs, though; Shadow Hearts and its predecessor, Koudelka, are known for their distinct aesthetics, and this is another area where the game excels. The character models and their animations are a much-needed step up from the first, but the crowning achievement is the environments. While Covenant features a variety of real-world cities with a very welcoming ambiance, this serves to contrast the true star: the lovingly tenebrous dungeons that see the party navigating caves, catacombs, and several other horror-tinged locales. Those dungeons even have some legitimately challenging puzzles, though with how large and labyrinthine they are, it’s often tedious to navigate them. The music compliments this atmosphere in the field and in combat, the best songs being the battle tracks that use distorted vocals to drive home the surreal atmosphere and creature designs. And while we’re mentioning battle, it’s time to examine Covenant‘s biggest triumph.

Actions in battle rely on the Judgment Ring, a system where the player must hit marked nodes in order to attack, use items, or perform almost any action. Hitting a red “strike zone” enhances the effects of the command. This might seem repetitive at first, and in the first Shadow Hearts, that was often the case. But Covenant has changed the game entirely. In fact, I will stake out a claim that its version of the Judgment Ring is one of the most well-realized RPG battle mechanics to ever grace the genre.

There’s incredible variety in how players can customize the Ring: increasing the number of hits in one attack in exchange for smaller hit zones, finding collectibles to make hit and strike zones larger, and cycling between ring type options that drastically alter how it functions. Some of these options were limited to weapon customization in the first game, and there was almost no reason to engage with it until you had everyone’s best gear. Now, it simultaneously offers the player risky attack options, a built-in difficulty modulator, and a gold mine for challenge runs with a genuinely stunning level of elegance.

And that’s just the first example in a laundry list of combat improvements. Character animations are now fluid and natural, creating a satisfying verve to encounters. A major gameplay addition is the combo system, where characters can be set up to chain moves with one another for increased damage and an explosive finisher if the combo is long enough. Certain moves affect enemy positioning, others are more effective depending on the enemy’s position, and the player still must hit all their Judgment Rings. It’s addictive enough that even when it ends up making the combat somewhat easy, the thought the player needs to put into combos still makes them satisfying to perform.

The addition of magic crests to freely swap between characters also gives them more options than the limited skill selection in the first game. Unique character gimmicks like Yuri’s various demon fusions, Anastasia’s ability to copy skills from enemies, Joachim’s rotating transformations, or Lucia’s various oil mixtures flesh out this system even more. Not every character has idiosyncrasies this unique, but having some conventional options to offset the wild cards is still welcome.

The one bad thing about combat is that by the endgame the sheer volume of fights you take part in gets pretty grating, especially if you do the sidequests. It’s easy to end up overequipped for any situation and have more than enough money to buy expansions to your hit and strike zones. This isn’t a fatal flaw, but I think that enemies with more challenging AI, attack patterns, or even just a bit more health could remedy it. It would also be nice to have some more movement options in battle, considering how large a role positioning now plays. As it is now though, it’s still very enjoyable.

And that’s what Shadow Hearts: Covenant ends up being: very enjoyable in spite of its faults. Even if I didn’t connect with the story, it does have its moments, and the sheer girth of content and exemplary Judgment Ring customization make it something truly special. It’s a unique experience, and though its rarity might be a barrier, anyone who has the opportunity to play this game should seize it.

Hard choices should remain difficult because someone else will try to make them for you once they’re easier to make. BioWare’s Dragon Age: The Veilguard poignantly hits this sentiment home throughout its lengthy narrative, offering players numerous difficult decisions so that they can shape the dark fantasy land of Thedas. Does the fourth game in the acclaimed DA series meet the quality expectations set by its peers? I’d argue yes, and it even surpasses them in several aspects. The Veilguard is peak BioWare, a welcome return at a time with many debating whether or not we’d ever see them reach their previous heights again.

I’ve been a fan of BioWare’s RPG storytelling for quite some time. However, I technically started with the Mass Effect trilogy before taking my initial steps into Dragon Age‘s realm of Thedas. Both series share similar themes and gameplay elements, so they have a fond place in my heart. Despite its apparent flaws, I enjoyed the often-maligned Mass Effect: Andromeda. Thanks to a recent replay for Retro Encounter, I recently came to appreciate the narrative beats of the more divisive Dragon Age II. Dragon Age: The Veilguard takes more positive elements of each BioWare flagship series and improves upon their weaknesses, creating a polished RPG experience with gameplay and plot that’s well-designed and memorable in equal measure.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s narrative takes place some years after the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition and its epilogue DLC, Trespasser. Inquisition agents Varric Tethras and Lace Harding have tracked down their former comrade-in-arms Solas, the infamous Dread Wolf of ancient elven myth, to the capital city of Tevinter. Solas is attempting a ritual to tear down the Veil surrounding the world to “restore” what’s been lost, though doing so will cause a catastrophe that could very well end Thedas.

Trying to stop his machinations, they enlist the help of Tevinter’s mage detective, Neve Gallus, and Rook, the player-controlled hero. For complete player immersion, Rook’s looks, gender identity, race, job class, narrative origin, and voice are fully customizable in a detailed character creation process before jumping into the first mission. Things don’t go swimmingly for our heroes, and soon, corrupt ancient elven gods threaten everything and everyone. Rook ends up the de facto leader of the party, assembling a group of colorful and varied characters to help in their quest. Can the newly appointed Veilguard drive away the chaos and save Thedas? Plenty of trials, tribulations, and tough choices lie in wait for Rook and their companions.

At the core of any great RPG is its story and characters. In this regard, Dragon Age: The Veilguard is right on track with an intriguing plot that carefully explores regions of Thedas only previously referenced in series lore. You get to travel to Tevinter, a location mentioned quite heavily in past DA titles, along with areas like Nevarra and Rivain, which were given more of a light touch in the series previously. Every region in The Veilguard has an impressive scope and depth with the lore. Its surrounding ancient histories get more exploration too, offering new insight and revealing fascinating additions to the mythos of Thedas alongside hidden truths. I also found the various factions of each locale, such as Arlathan’s Veil Jumpers or the Antivan Crows, to be fully realized and deftly explored. My Rook was originally part of the Shadow Dragons, and how your Rook’s origin gets interwoven into the plot through dialogue options and references is impressive. I even appreciated that at points in my playthrough, my Rook could discuss being of Qunari descent in Tevinter society, as it made her feel like she had an actual background.

The game’s characters are arguably the most substantial part of the writing, with its beating heart being the titular Veilguard. Harding stepping into a party member role after her stint as a beloved-yet-not-the-focus NPC in Inquisition is inspired, and she’s just as likable as ever here. Neve is a staunch defender of the oppressed in the poorer Dock Town area of the Tevinter capital with an analytical approach to most things that’s greatly appreciated. Bellara is an elven Veil Jumper who is a sheer delight with her bubbly mannerisms and penchant for hoping for the best in any situation. Emmrich is the kindest, most polite necromancer I’ve encountered in a video game! Davrin is a Grey Warden who very much espouses the order’s ideals thrust into a situation he isn’t prepared for. Taash is a dragon hunter who still shows understanding and respect for the magnificent and powerful creatures.

The feared assassin Lucanis was a pleasant surprise for me. He managed to worm his way into my Rook’s heart with a wonderfully charming personality, thoughtful observances, and a profoundly abiding love for coffee. For fans of romance in their BioWare games, I adored how cute and touching their eventual romance ends up being too! Emmrich’s skeleton butler, Manfred, and the young griffin Assan are also unique mascots. Indeed, I immensely enjoy the found family dynamic that evolves among the Veilguard. They all have their differences, yet regardless, they work through them to reach an understanding with one another. Their dynamic develops believably over time, especially if you try to follow through with all of their character arcs.

The various regions of Thedas you traverse also have essential characters to get to know by visiting them and completing quests raising that faction’s strength. Faction strength ties into what items can be found in shops and even has a surprising impact on the game’s narrative outcomes. Strife of the Veil Jumpers, Tarquin of the Shadow Dragons, Teia of the Antivan Crows, and a colorful married couple in the Grey Wardens are just a handful of potential allies with memorable plots and moments. At specific points, some nostalgic cameo surprises await fans of the series! Other minor characters in the plot have just enough lines and ambient dialogue to get attached to them, allowing the regions of Thedas to feel genuinely lived in.

You even get messages from characters you’ve aided occasionally, both prominent and minor in scale. These provide a sense that side quests have a lasting narrative impact outside of just raising faction strength and tangible rewards. The most significant character-related weak point is that, aside from the highly complex figure of Solas, most of the antagonists are one-note. They are solely “evil for the sake of being evil” villainy. Those wanting morally complicated or dubious villains won’t find them here, save for perhaps on rare occasions I won’t delve into due to spoilers. However, it makes sense that most of the villains aren’t redeemable when you’re fighting against groups of people who are abusive enslavers who go around gleefully murdering the innocent for blood magic sacrifices. Sometimes, a story needs adversaries you want to bash happily, and The Veilguard certainly provides that! Given how deftly combat is handled, you can be sure to appreciate the process, too.

Combat in Dragon Age: The Veilguard is sharp and fine-tuned, primarily through a more action-oriented RPG lens. Unlike my recent playthroughs of Dragon Age II and DAI, I didn’t find myself constantly wrestling with The Veilguard’s camera to find decent angles for attacks. Once foes step into your line of sight, they’re pretty much fair game for longer-range projectile attacks or melee assaults that can chain together to create powerful moves. With a simple button push, I switched fluidly from sniping to more close-quarters combat. Combat is fast and, most importantly, fun. Even a special meter fills up during fighting, letting you unleash an extraordinarily devastating and satisfying ultimate attack! My Rook went with the mage job class, ultimately landing on the powerful Spell Blade specialization. Tearing through hordes of enemies, taking on high dragons once you level up, and tailoring the robust and versatile skill tree to your liking is immensely enjoyable, so much so that I even sought out optional fights that I probably would’ve avoided in previous DA games. You have limited healing potions, but the combat zones provide resupplies should you need them. You can even pause combat to activate more tailored special moves or set up combos with party members, for which the AI is excellent. It’s a thoroughly entertaining battle system, so long as you’re an action RPG enthusiast.

Aside from fighting, there is a surprising amount of activity as the Veilguard traverses the land. Maps are large and expansive without seeming overwhelming or confusing to navigate using helpful on-screen pointers. Story quests are always clearly marked, with the fast travel world map helpfully noting when new quests have opened up in the current area so that you don’t miss them or constantly feel the need to backtrack to every region. Quests have a nice variety of completion criteria as you go. Area designs are full of nooks and crannies to explore for items and resources, with each party member harnessing special “dungeon abilities” to help you access different terrains or solve puzzles similar to old-school Wild ARMs games. In general, puzzles are more thought-provoking than frustrating. You can have fun simply exploring the various regions in Thedas.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s narrative centers a lot around choice. Rook has plenty of dialogue options at her disposal throughout story scenes, altering how the story plays out in subtle and obvious ways. The game does an excellent job of “remembering” essential decisions Rook makes, showcasing how they impact later interactions or moments. You might make an unpopular choice with someone in one instance that may even damage your relationship or reputation with them, but you can also repair that damage over time if you work at it. This creates a realistic approach to plot development and relationship building with the cast. Seeing how your actions can impact the story in many ways is fascinating, particularly in later plot events. You can even sometimes talk your way out of fights completely! There’s also a large amount of optional content to get through if you like, and much of that impacts things like faction strength, character bonds, and even the game’s ending. The possibilities for continued play are extensive, especially with the game’s various difficulty settings. I appreciate how none of your decisions are ever painted as “right or wrong,” as there are positive and negative outcomes for most.

Visually, Dragon Age: The Veilguard is easily the prettiest DA game I’ve seen from a background stance. Every area you travel to has a unique look and feel, with some genuinely gorgeous vistas in areas like Rivain and Arlathan. Comparatively, I think the character designs can take some getting used to, and their more “stylistic cartoon” aesthetic might not be for everyone. Still, I warmed up to them as I played and came to appreciate how varied, detailed, and expressive they are. This is easily the most visually polished BioWare game I’ve played, as I hardly ever noticed any graphical hiccups.

Sound-wise, the orchestral feel of the game’s soundtrack (as evidenced by its Main Theme) and the sound effects are phenomenal. The squelching of boots on wet ground, the clash of steel, and the cry of an angry dragon all come together incredibly well. While some voice actors are arguably more robust than others in their overall performances, everyone grew on me in their respective roles, especially the main cast as they faced their various characters’ trials and tribulations. Special kudos go to Erika Ishii‘s performance as Rook in my playthrough, as they captured the inherent goofiness of Rook’s mannerisms alongside some genuinely emotional and poignant moments, as well as Jin Maley‘s phenomenally passionate Taash performance and Gareth David-Lloyd‘s returning role as Solas. The game’s subtitles matched the voiced lines and were readable even on the default settings. I did notice that some selected dialogue options didn’t always align with spoken dialogue in the story scenes, but that’s more of a writing issue than a sound one.

Looking back on my sixty-five-hour The Veilguard playthrough for apparent flaws, I’m coming up short. While it’s relatively newcomer-friendly, given its focus on new areas of Thedas, prior knowledge of the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition is beneficial in the long run. It enriches specific story beats and character moments that much more. Those who maybe want a more “blank slate” protagonist might be put off by how much established personality Rook has and how much dialogue they get outside of the numerous player-choice dialogue options. But, honestly? That’s mostly it, and I feel like I’m nitpicking more than anything. This is a thoroughly solid and quite polished RPG adventure!

Dragon Age: The Veilguard has cemented itself as one of my favorite DA games and is easily the best BioWare outing we’ve had in a while. It has heart and plenty of emotion alongside a found family cast with some of the best personal character questlines I’ve experienced in a game. It’s evident that there’s a deep respect for the DA lore and titles that came before, and I love how The Veilguard takes vital points of so many BioWare games and builds upon them. Rook’s journey contains several devastating choices, but opting to give Dragon Age: The Veilguard a chance should be a surprisingly easy choice for RPG fans.

Life is Strange: Double Exposure is the latest entry in a series that has seen its fair share of praise and criticism. While the original Life is Strange set a high bar with its unique time-bending mechanics and emotional storytelling, subsequent titles have received mixed receptions. Fans have been divided on how well each game lives up to the original’s emotional depth and character-driven narrative. Unfortunately, Double Exposure falls short of living up to the original’s legacy. Although it captures the spirit of the series at times, too many elements fall flat, leaving an experience that feels rushed, underdeveloped, and, ultimately, unsatisfying.

Unlike Life is Strange 2 and True Colors, which introduced new characters and stories, Double Exposure is a direct sequel to the original game, bringing back Max as the protagonist. Set ten years after the events of Arcadia Bay, the story takes place at Caledon University, where Max is the photographer-in-residence. The narrative picks up with her once again facing impossible choices that challenge her understanding of friendship and sacrifice.

This time, instead of her time-rewinding powers, Max discovers the ability to travel between two parallel worlds—one where her close friend Safi is alive, and another where Safi was shot to death in a horrifying incident. This dual-world mechanic sets the stage for a story steeped in mystery and the consequences of Max’s choices across these two realities.

One of the areas where Double Exposure succeeds is in its atmosphere. Like the original, this game nails the indie, coming-of-age vibe with a soundtrack that complements the mood and fits the tone perfectly. Whether it’s a reflective moment after a major choice or a simple scene in Caledon, the soundtrack enhances the emotion and keeps you engaged, even when the story falters.

There are moments of genuine intrigue in the mystery that Double Exposure presents. Kicking off with a strong premise, the game explores the consequences of shifting between two realities. There’s also a noticeable attention to detail in certain areas, particularly with idle dialogue. These seemingly small conversations often form side storylines that persist throughout your playthrough, adding depth to the characters and the plot. When it works, this idle dialogue enriches the experience, gives insight into the characters’ backgrounds and motivations, and creates a sense of immersion.

Unfortunately, these moments are insufficient to save the game from multiple glaring issues. One of the biggest problems with Double Exposure is its reliance on fetch quests. While similar problems existed in previous titles, they are more apparent here, completely dominating the gameplay. Their abundance in numerous areas bogs down the pacing, turning entire sections into tedious chores at the expense of meaningful interactions. When a narrative-driven game loses its narrative momentum, the flaws become even more pronounced.

The characters in Double Exposure are also one of the weakest aspects. Unlike the first entry, where many characters felt well-developed and nuanced, those in this installment often behave inconsistently and make bizarre, illogical decisions. For example, regardless of your input and choices throughout the story, the main characters behave in the exact same way to move the story forward. No matter how nice (or mean) you are to a specific character, your actions are almost completely forgotten by the next scene. This disconnect leads to irrational actions that contradict players’ expectations based on prior interactions, resulting in a bewildering lack of coherence.

Even by the game’s conclusion, the characters do not significantly evolve from when you first meet them. They fail to learn from their mistakes, and there’s little room for introspection or reflection. The lack of believable progression makes empathizing with characters difficult, which spoils overall plot immersion. In a game where emotional stakes are supposed to matter, this disconnection left me feeling disengaged and indifferent to the outcomes of the characters’ journeys.

Part of the problem stems from its short runtime. Clocking in at less than ten hours, Double Exposure doesn’t give itself enough space to fully explore its characters or plot. There simply isn’t adequate time for the story to develop naturally, which results in a rushed and unsatisfying experience. The game introduces key plot points but never fully resolves them, leaving you with more questions than answers by the time the credits roll. This short length is especially disappointing given the price, as it feels like poor value for your money. 

One of the main narrative hooks is that players can choose to base the story on either ending from the first Life is Strange. On paper, this concept presents an intriguing opportunity for players to see how their previous choices impact the story and the world around them. However, in execution, it falls short. Both routes feel strikingly similar, offering only surface-level differences that do little to differentiate the experiences. 

Despite the real impact that the original endings should have on the overall story, the dialogue for both routes is largely similar, and it’s difficult to accept the lack of narrative divergence given the gravity of those choices. As a result, the story feels forced and unconvincing—like a contrived decision written inorganically from a premise rather than one allowed to develop naturally. Consequently, the overall replayability suffers, as players have little incentive to revisit the other path when both are so similar.

Adding to all of this, the technical state of Double Exposure presents another major issue. The game is riddled with bugs, some of which are game-breaking. These bugs are not just minor inconveniences—they can completely ruin the experience by forcing you to restart sections or lose progress. There are persistent audio issues that pull you out of the moment, with dialogue sometimes cutting out or desyncing. Since the game relies so heavily on immersion and emotional investment, it’s difficult to overlook these technical problems. They compound the frustration already caused by poorly developed characters, making the experience feel even more unfinished.

Double Exposure also lacks basic quality-of-life features that we’ve come to expect in modern games. For instance, there is no means of tracking certain collectibles. For a game that prides itself on player choice and uncovering hidden details, the absence of such tracking is a baffling oversight. This makes it difficult for players to know what they’ve found and missed. Further, due to the aforementioned bugs, some of the collectibles and even available player choices may not appear at all. 

Finally, the ending is where things really fall apart. Most of the plot points remain unresolved even at the end, and it feels like the developers are more focused on the next game instead of this one. This aspect is where Double Exposure feels most like a letdown, as if the story never truly got started. 

Life is Strange: Double Exposure is a game that fails to capitalize on its premise. Although the soundtrack and occasional moments of intrigue are commendable, they are overshadowed by poor character development, confusing plot choices, and a lack of polish. The technical issues, combined with the short length and unresolved storylines, make this entry feel rushed and incomplete. Longtime fans of the series might find themselves disheartened, as they may genuinely dislike the narrative choices that diverge from what they loved about the original. While some may find enjoyment in revisiting the world of Life is Strange, for many, this game could feel like a disappointing misstep.

Back in 2018, my friend got me to watch an anime called That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime. While I’m typically not a fan of the isekai genre, I found the first season of Reincarnated as a Slime fairly interesting and distinct from similar anime. The anime (itself based on a light novel series) eschews some of the worst aspects of the genre like harem romances or slavery and focuses more on nation-building and slice-of-life interactions between the characters. Bandai Namco found this a solid foundation for an RPG adaptation, and thus ISEKAI Chronicles was born. Developers Monkeycraft and ZOC took inspiration from some of Bandai Namco’s other RPG series, mixing fast-paced 2D action combat (classic Tales of) and 3D town building (similar to Ni No Kuni II) to deliver a very fitting combination for the source material.

The game begins with the origin story of Rimuru, a man from modern-day Japan who is stabbed in a random attack and dies. He is then reincarnated in a fantasy world as a slime. However, he has the unique personal skill Predator, which allows him to consume other creatures and take on their abilities and attributes. Through this power, Rimuru unites the various races and forms the Jura-Tempest Federation, a nation where all races can coexist as equals. The initial setup is sped through very quickly in the game, and I was glad I was familiar with at least the first season of the anime. If you don’t have any background knowledge of the anime or light novels, the initial events, as portrayed in the game, could be fairly confusing. Rimuru’s awakening in the fantasy world, his friendship and absorption of the dragon Veldora, and his initial battles to unite the goblin and wolf tribes in the forest of Jura all occur within about 20 minutes, mostly told through a mix of in-game cutscenes and short battles that double as tutorials.

After that introductory chapter, the pace of the story is more relaxed, with new storylines and characters unique to the game seamlessly woven into the original storyline of the anime. These new characters and storylines were created by the light novel author, Fuse, and fit the general tone of the story. Since the narrative generally follows the same formula of Rimuru and his allies regularly meeting a new friend or foe, the addition of game-specific allies and enemies didn’t negatively impact the narrative pacing. I appreciate that the developers went the extra mile to ensure the game isn’t solely a retread of plot beats from the anime, and that there is new content here for fans of the source material. The game mostly covers the show’s first two seasons and caps the narrative off with a battle against an original foe. This ensures the game has a satisfying climax without conflicting with the events of later anime seasons, which I thought was a nice touch to expand the universe.

The game is divided into two main portions: dungeon crawling with action RPG combat and town building. Dungeon exploration and combat take place on a 2D plane, and the combat system is very similar to classic Tales of titles like Tales of Phantasia or Tales of Destiny. You can perform different combos by holding a different direction while using the attack button, and map special skills to directional inputs combined with a face button. The action is fast-paced, and you are graded on each combat encounter based on your combo counter and the amount of damage you deal. A higher grade results in better item and experience rewards, which ensures a simple yet satisfying gameplay loop.

You spend most of the early game playing as Rimuru in his human form, but as more allies join the Jura-Tempest Federation, you unlock a whole host of other characters to add to your party. For example, when the Ogres finally join Rimuru’s cause, you get a whopping six new party members to play around with, each with unique fighting styles and special skills. This steady stream of additional playable characters, plus support characters you can equip to the party for passive stat bonuses and special moves, ensures that the simplistic combat system has enough variety to remain fun throughout the game’s run time.

Character progression, on the other hand, is lacking. There is a web of passive skill nodes you can unlock as characters gain experience, but they only provide basic stat bonuses or the occasional modifier, which doesn’t have a significant impact on the gameplay. Character skills are unlocked linearly through story progression, so there isn’t much opportunity to tailor character builds to your play style. Partway through the game, you unlock a training facility that allows characters to gain experience even if they aren’t participating in dungeon runs, so there isn’t any need to commit to a particular party setup either.

Unfortunately, the game mechanics only get shallower and more repetitive from here. The town-building aspect of the game had me initially interested, but the execution leaves much to be desired. Most structures you can build only offer minor passive bonuses for dungeon runs, and these bonuses can’t be stacked with one another. The result is that the actual layout or composition of buildings and facilities doesn’t matter, and there aren’t any additional mechanics tied to managing resources or the well-being of your citizens. Some buildings impact gameplay, such as the aforementioned training facility or the farm that produces resources needed to build additional structures, but ultimately the entire town-building experience feels incredibly simplistic.

ISEKAI Chronicles is further let down by the mind-numbing monotony of its dungeon design. Each dungeon is constructed out of small adjoining rooms, similar to the 2D dungeon layouts in Muramasa or Odin Sphere. However, in those Vanillaware titles, the rooms vary in size and shape and contain verticality and platforming elements, NPCs to interact with, and other environmental details. The dungeons in ISEKAI Chronicles feature none of these elements and are simply empty rectangular rooms with either chests or enemies inside. Every single dungeon in the entire game follows this same structure, differing only in the type of environmental backdrop they use. There are no platforming elements, no puzzles to solve, no NPCs to talk to, nothing but running to the left and occasionally opening a chest and fighting a small group of enemies ad nauseam.

Enemy variety is also woefully lacking, and by the third chapter, you already start to see recolors of the same enemy types you’ve fought before, who do the same animations and have the same attacks. Boss fights, at least, introduce unique enemies and are significantly more complex and difficult than typical fodder encounters. However, even these boss fights are recycled over and over again, sometimes as many as five times throughout the game. For a game that is already relatively light on content, it begins to feel incredibly padded out just to hit an arbitrary 15 to 20-hour length.

I can’t say I fully regret the time I spent with That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime ISEKAI Chronicles, but the overall experience wasn’t incredibly memorable either. If you are a huge fan of the anime or light novel series, I think it’s worth checking out, as it’s a faithful adaptation of the source material with some original narrative content and a solid enough gameplay foundation to be fun if you can look past the repetition. For casual fans of the anime such as myself, or those who aren’t familiar with the source material at all, this is an easy skip. If the dungeon designs were less bland and repetitive or the town-building mechanics more impactful and fleshed out, ISEKAI Chronicles could’ve been special. As it stands now, it’s just an average anime-licensed RPG.