Divinity: Original Sin 2 - Thoughts

Divinity: Original Sin 2—the game so nice I beat it twice!

Okay, I know that's a cheesy line, but when you consider that the game is an 80+ hour RPG, I'd say it's a pretty solid recommendation. Although I loved my time with Persona 5, not once did I entertain the idea of second playthrough—whereas I walked away from Original Sin 2 hungry for more, despite having played two campaigns simultaneously. Original Sin 2 is not only superior to the first game in every single way, but is also—unquestionably—one of the best turn-based RPGs ever made. It's smart, engrossing, deeply tactical, and well worth every single minute you invest into it.

The only major issue with Divinity: Original Sin 2 is that it's buggy. That's it. And unless this is your first rodeo with a western RPG, you're probably aware that buginess comes with the territory. That's not to excuse the glitches you'll inevitably run into, but rest assured that the occasional graphical hiccup or game crash doesn't ruin the experience—provided you save frequently. Every other problem Original Sin 2 has, from its unhelpful quest log to its wildly imbalanced encounters, are drops of bad in an ocean of greatness. Original Sin 2 garners so much good will that even when the game encroaches upon frustrating territory, you'll bear it all with a smile.

The key to Divinity: Original Sin 2's resounding success is threefold: it looks great, plays great, and gets you invested in its story. Any one of those usually provides reason enough to play through a game (the combat was all the first game had going for it), but having all three are the markers for a masterpiece. Before I dive into each of these facets, I have to commend Larian Studios for not only learning from the first game's failures, but also expanding the co-op from two players to four. Original Sin 2 was a ton of fun to play with my friend group, even when we were mucking up battles and accidentally (and sometimes not-so-accidentally) blowing each other up.

The jump in presentation from the first Original Sin to the second is subtle, but noticeable. The UI has been cleaned up, the visuals are clean and gorgeous, and the voice acting has been reigned in. I played a little Neverwinter Nights parallel to this and the difference between the two is night and day. That's not a fair comparison, but it helps to drive home how truly important a sharp art style, poignant soundtrack, and easily readable interface are to keeping the player invested. Original Sin 2's presentation wasn't the reason I was playing the game, but it certainly helped make a fairly complicated game more palatable—the voice acting in particular is downright savory.

What did keep me coming back to Original Sin 2 was the explosive combat. The Original Sin series possesses, bar none, the most engaging RPG combat I've ever experienced. It's smart, colorful, and extremely flexible, giving players innumerable ways to engage with it. A lot of skills have been reworked and a bunch more have been added, introducing spells formed from two different disciplines (like fire and archery), as well as abilities powered by Source, Original Sin 2's rare but powerful magic resource. This rapidly expands the ways you can interact on the battlefield, and since magic & physical armor now block debuffs, you can no longer stunlock foes from turn 1 like in the first game.

Even when fights are gruelingly long and cruel (I'm looking at you, Aetera) you usually won't mind losing because it's so much fun trying to puzzle out a viable solution. Notice that I didn't say "the correct solution"; every build and ability in the game has its pros and cons, and if you're approach battles wisely you can tackle fights well above your level. It helps that Original Sin 2 isn't about hard numbers as much as it's about spacial awareness and clever combos. For instance, if you need to stall a warrior while you whittle down another opponent, there's a ton of ways to do that: block yourself off with a wall of vines, freeze the ground beneath him, shoot an arrow into his feet, teleport him across the map, etc. Feeling like you're outnumbered but coming up with a risky play ("I'll Shackles of Pain myself so that when you blow me up they'll die too!") really captures the rambunctious magic of Original Sin 2. It's an experience no other game has: chess-like strategy blended together with improv comedy execution.

And if that wasn't enough to sell you, the story in Original Sin 2 is absolutely excellent. I would've been pleased if it was good—that would've heightened it above the farcical plot of the first game—but Original Sin 2 goes above and beyond, keeping a smidgen of the old humor but dowsing it in consequence. The story and choices you make are fraught with morally gray quandaries, few characters lacking a reason for the violence they cause. The first Original Sin was about stopping an apocalyptic force from returning, while in this game you are the cause of the apocalyptic force this time, and "solving" this problem is no easy task. The struggle between good and evil is stranger, murkier—all the major factions vying for power are simply trying to restore justice to a dying world.  I fully expected to ignore the plot at the start, but I was pleasantly surprised at how often Original Sin 2's dilemmas divided my friend group. By the end of the game, two of them had vowed to kill my character if given the opportunity—which is the sign of a great role playing story.

There is no RPG system with more fun, funny, and tactical combat than Divinity: Original Sin 2. Improving on the first game alone would make it a landmark experience, but Larian studios went above and beyond, creating a title that I would argue is a must-play. If Original Sin 2 is to have a greatest accomplishment, it isn't the strong visuals, phenomenal gameplay, or enticing story: it's that it makes the player engage with a role playing game, where every story choice, every stat increase, and every combat deliberation is theirs and theirs alone to make. There are a lot of ways to play Original Sin 2, a lot of characters to haggle with, and a lot of fights to survive, but these myriad of branches stem from the same trunk of truth—Divinity Original Sin 2 is unbelievably good.

Doom Eternal - Thoughts

2016's Doom didn't need a sequel. I will never whine about receiving more Doom, but that game was damn near flawless. The art design was amazing, the campaign had the perfect length, and the lightning-quick combat was a breath of fresh air for the FPS genre. In my entry on the game I complained about its linearity and some other issues, but time away from Doom has reduced those gripes to background noise. Doom was a juggernaut that blew nearly everyone away, and repeated playthroughs has cemented it as one of my favorite shooters of all time.

So when Doom Eternal was announced, I was more intrigued than I was ecstatic. The gameplay was perfect, so what else could id Software add? Perhaps if they made the stages more non-linear, removed the self-serious cutscenes, and expanded the multiplayer, then I could see how Doom Eternal could rise above the Olympic heights set by its predecessor. The game wouldn't be nearly as revolutionary—there was no way of that happening—but I would definitely be down to play a more polished Doom clone.

Yet in the end, id Software did none of those things—in fact they did the exact opposite. Doom Eternal is more restrictive, more self-serious, and does away with the traditional deathmatch experience. What skeletal remains there were of the original '90s series have been further discarded, forging Doom Eternal into its own strange, nasty little thing. So I can't in all honesty claim that Doom Eternal is a better game than 2016's Doom... but I think I like it more.

What I love about Doom Eternal is simple: the gameplay is nuts. Not only is Eternal faster on every front, but it's far deadlier as well, mercilessly punishing the player for missteps and careless gambles. Doom's difficulty tended to peter off in its latter half, but Eternal pressures the player for the entire game, keeping a blazing inferno lit under their ass. And it's not just that the enemies hit harder and are more aggressive; you'll be required to use your entire arsenal if you want to avoid joining the ranks of the dead. The ammo cap has been massively reduced, meaning you'll have to constantly rely on chainsawing through fodder demons to restock your weapons. Grenades serve a much larger role this time around (I forgot they were even in Doom!), providing a burst of damage & stun when the player needs it most. There's also a flamethrower and power-punch to refill armor and health respectively; if you haven't been keeping track, this is a lot of additional keys to hit.

The new abilities radically change Doom's combat from a free-form death ballet to a chaotic weapon juggling brawl. It's still possible to get to the point where you're untouchable, but reaching that zen state requires a lot more work than it did in 2016's Doom. Here you'll need to learn how to switch away from your weapon while it's on cooldown, seek out weaker foes when you're in need of munitions, and utilize enemy weaknesses to rob them of their strongest attacks. Doom Eternal's fights are rigid—so rigid that the most memorable thing to come out of the game is an infamous nemesis that can only be harmed when his eyes glow green. I was terrified of the aforementioned Marauder during my first playthrough, but he really does help to teach how Doom Eternal prioritizes what you need over what you want. At the beginning you'll probably find yourself wishing that you could hold more ammo or that the arachnatron wasn't such a bullet sponge, but you'll come to realize Doom Eternal shines brightest when you have to use every tool in your arsenal to survive.

A lot of folks are quick to mention the ammo drought, enemy weaknesses, or implacable Marauder as the biggest shake-up to Doom's formula, but that honor belongs to the best upgrade in the game: the dash. No longer must the Slayer dance around an enemy in the hopes their fireball will miss—dashing affords Doomguy a new dimension of control, letting him skirt dangerous attacks and rapidly close in for a glory kill. Seriously, the dash is a remarkable improvement that transforms the player from a scrambling ranger into a blazing-fast buzz saw of bullets. There is no doubt in my mind that without the dash, Doom Eternal would be the inferior experience compared to its older sibling. With it however, Eternal has evolved the series into a veritable FPS/character action game hybrid—and it rules.

I immensely enjoyed my time with Doom Eternal, but that's by and large because I learned to play by its rules. I found the demands inherit in its gameplay to be intriguing and rewarding rather than complicated and limiting. Plus I adored how ferocious the combat had become—especially on Nightmare, where being struck by two enemies at once is basically lethal. But by narrowing down its audience, I don't think I can comfortably call Doom Eternal a better game than its predecessor. In many ways Doom was the ultimate FPS power fantasy: despite the chunky gore and grim atmosphere, it was a welcoming experience that let you kick off your shoes and slay some hellspawn. Doom Eternal on the other hand is relentlessly austere, both in its gameplay and its lore.

And I totally understand—id Software was at impasse. Although they could've continued with a light-hearted "Hell on Earth" storyline, I think the plot would've suffered from a "been there, done that" feeling. Instead they dove even deeper into the lore, weaving a sci-fi tale about two clans of aliens and their history with Hell. Surprisingly, I didn't mind the focus on the Sentinels and Hell Priests, partly because I like how stupidly in-depth it was, and also because 2016's Doom had primed me on what to expect. I think the story of the previous game is more captivating—especially because you don't need to look into the lore to comprehend it—but Doom Eternal manages to stand on its own... for the most part (prepare for a lot more cutscenes you have no control over).

Almost everything else about Doom Eternal is on par with 2016's Doom. The progression system offers a lot of variability, the changes made to the weapons are excellent (the super shotgun meathook is a godsend), and the visuals are constantly captivating—an endgame area sticks out in particular, being one of the coolest and most unique alien worlds I've had the pleasure of rampaging through. There's no singular track that reaches the heights of BFG Division, but there are plenty heart-pounding, foot-tapping tunes that are guaranteed to get the blood surging through your veins. And lastly, I uh... have no idea how well the multiplayer holds up. The single player campaign was all I needed, and it fulfilled its purpose very well.

Doom Eternal isn't just more Doom—it's Doom-on-steroids. Some really big, demonic gut-ripping steroids. The game provides you with a lot of flashy tools and then warns that they are there for your survival, not entertainment. You can still flaunt your battle prowess, playing with imps and cacodemons as if they were newborn kittens, but the journey to get to that stage will be a lot more taxing. And honestly, some may not be ready for that. 2016's Doom remains the better game on the principle that it's the easier title to get into, but Doom Eternal managed to do the impossible: it improved on an already immaculate combat system. Eternal is a fearsome, chaotic, energizing beast—and I loved loved loved all three of my playthroughs of it.

Mass Effect 3 - Thoughts

BioWare's contentious climax to the original Mass Effect trilogy isn't... really... all that contentious. Sure, there's the phenomenally underwhelming ending that makes some wild leaps in logic, but besides that Mass Effect 3 is undeniably the successor to 2. I don't think it's as masterful as the Collector-hunting-comrade-collecting journey, but it's riddled with great character moments, tense dilemmas, and energetic firefights. Whatever failings it may have (of which there are quite a few), I honestly feel that the team at BioWare did the best they could.

The worst part about Mass Effect 3—and an aspect I believe is more detrimental than the unsatisfactory ending—is that everything revolves around the ongoing galactic war. On one hand, it absolutely makes sense within the confines of the story. It avoids classic RPG tonal dissonance of, say, breeding racebirds while an apocalyptic meteor descends upon the planet, but it robs Mass Effect of its leisure and gentleness. Gone are the innocent times where you could stop by a store and inquire about an alien race's history; now you'll eavesdrops to garner war assets and convince old friends to become statistics in your army. Every conversation, every expedition, and every interjection is designed to further aid you in the war.

I'll reiterate that while it's understandable in universe, the galactic war becomes a black hole that saps a lot of joy out of the series. On every mission people constantly radio in to tell you to "HURRY UP", leaving you no room to soak in some of the prettier backdrops. Puzzles and minigames have also been entirely removed, reducing the gameplay loop to "gear up -> shoot shoot shoot". The silver lining is that the downtime in Mass Effect 3, where you're allowed to sit back and chat with your companions, feels a lot more well deserved. This is part of the reason why the Citadel DLC (where you're on shore leave) is so unanimously well-loved, and remains the crowning jewel of the Mass Effect experience. But even if you happen to play the game without it, there are still a lot of small character moments that'll put a smile on your face.

Perhaps the greatest improvement Mass Effect 3 holds over its older siblings is that your crew actually interacts with one another. To people that haven't played the series this may not seem like a big deal, but your squad is central to Mass Effect experience—if not the driving force itself. It's honestly kind of strange thinking back on the previous two games that, outside of a few exceptions, the soldiers on your ship never strike up a conversation. Mass Effect 3 remedies this by peppering in various radio chats you can eavesdrop on, as well as some unique lighthearted banter that'll pop up during a mission. It makes the crew feel more alive and cohesive, rather than guns for hire that only respond to their captain.

Unexpectedly, there's also more character customization than in Mass Effect 2—something that I honestly didn't expect (or remember). Fully upgrading an ability lets you pick three of six enhancements for your power, which can make your squad feel more specialized... even though you'll likely just choose "damage up" every single time. But what really surprised me was that Mass Effect 3 allows the player to carry any weapons they want into combat—at the price of slowing power recharge speed per armament. This had a significantly larger impact on how I played than any of the dopey mods from the first game ever did. With each weapon carrying its own magazine size, fire rate, damage, and specific weight, I had a lot of options to play with.

When it came time to storm the battlefield, I found myself having roughly as much fun with the combat as I did in 2. There are significantly less enemies protected by armor and shields in Mass Effect 3—turning my singularity into a potent anti-cover weapon—but this is offset by foes tossing grenades as frequently as their Uncharted 3 brethren. While explosives are a good way to de-trench the player from their favorite piece of cover, all it really served to do was slow down the gameplay as I bounced back and forth from one waist-high rock to another. I wrote in my entry on The Division how natural it felt to zip around cover, and my point of comparison was Mass Effect 3; far too often the game rewards you for staying stationary and simply shooting enemies before they can shoot you.

I would still classify most of the combat as entertaining (even if you get into routine habits), which is more than I can say for the mission structure. There's been a mass exodus of missions unrelated to the main campaign, creating of a drought of creativity in the level variety. Missing are the strange and unique side missions found in 2; Mass Effect 3 has you shooting Cerberus soldiers at a civilian base in one mission, and then shooting Cerberus soldiers at a Cerberus base the next. Side missions aren't the biggest draw to the Mass Effect universe, but they were a source of mystery in the previous games. Here, there's no time to tickle your curiosity—there's an enemy that needs killin', and a war that needs winnin'.

I've saved discussing the story for last again not because I don't have a lot of opinions on it, but mainly because it's impossible to discuss without delving into spoilers. Suffice to say, I don't think the ending is that bad (again, a big part of the experience is the journey, not the destination), though it's a lot better on replay when you're prepared for the blindside. The other big story beats are interesting and engaging, though it can border on embarrassing how easily galaxy-wide turmoil is wrapped up, or how quickly old friends make themselves scarce (hello David... bye David...) But I give Mass Effect 3 a pass largely due to the fact that it had a lot of ground to cover and variables to account for. Honestly, the one thing I cannot overlook is how essential the DLC is to the experience: Javik, the Leviathan, and the Citadel content all add some excellent flavor to the game's universe, and hiding the first two behind a $10 paywall is naked greed that spits in the faces of the fans.

I've read and understood plenty of arguments calling Mass Effect 3 a disappointment, but it was always going to be hard reaching Mass Effect 2's heights. 2 was a connective story that had a lot of freedom, whereas 3 had to play it by the rules and wrap up any loose ends. How well it does this depends on what characters you've grown attached to, how fascinating you find a galaxy-wide war, and whether or not you're okay with Shepard's dialogue options getting massively pared down (goodbye middle choice!). Beyond that (and the ending [and the crushing seriousness of the war]) there's not that much to hate. The character writing is as sharp as its ever been, the planets and vistas are genuinely jaw-dropping, and the gameplay remains fun long after you've downed your 1000th Cerberus lackey. Mass Effect 3's reputation may be visibly troubled, but the game is a solid product that—at its worst—occasionally skirts mediocrity.

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Images obtained from: PNGKey.com, reddit.com, gamewatcher.com, GameSpot.com

The Division - Thoughts

I have no idea where I stand on Ubisoft's The Division. My biggest roadblock to forming an opinion is that the game performs abysmally on my computer for some reason. I met the game's specifications—an i5-6600K, GTX 970, 8 GB of RAM—but my playthrough was rotten with unloaded assets, to the point that The Division wouldn't even allow me to take cover behind its low poly vehicles. I bumped my settings down as low as they could possibly go but it wasn't a cure-all: Times Square was still littered with incomplete shapes and menu icons outright refused to load even after a minute of waiting. I'd classify my time spent with the game as "fun", but I can't overstate how frustrating it is to play something that "kinda sorta works but not really".

The biggest (non-graphical) hurdle to getting into The Division is that it's missing a unique, gratifying hook. The first Destiny had the same exact problem—the gorgeous exterior belied a shallow interior devoid of a compelling plot. The campaign supports over twenty hours of playtime, but by that point you'll have seen almost most of what the game has to offer. That includes abilities, weapons, enemies, locations, and modes—basically everything barring the DLC content and raids. And while I was curious about the latter, one youtube video was all it took to extinguish my fascination; The Division's raids still looked to be in their formative years.

Plus, the game is all but dead in 2020. My only expedition into the tense and chaotic Dark Zone—an area where players were allowed to kill one another for loot—was so anticlimactic that I didn't bother trying it again. Nary a single other player showed up to waylay my team; in fact, I didn't encounter another player (besides my brother) outside of the hub area for my entire playthrough. Even the traditionally boisterous chat box was inhabited solely by Chinese players dropping dubious hyperlinks. There's a chance people were hanging out in the max level zones, but my desire to play the game vanished well before I could get there.

The main reason why I didn't want to continue is that The Division is shamelessly repetitive. There's only a handful of mission types and enemy factions, all of which blend together after a while into a lukewarm "shoot guy in hoody" broth. The Division taught me something important thing about my tastes: I really dislike shooters where similar-sized humanoids are your only enemy. Specialized foes are denoted by an icon next to their health (like a grenade for a grenadier) but you still approach them the same way you tackle everybody else. It's probably the reason why I never fell in love with franchises like Uncharted or Call of Duty—I can only handle two hours of shooting dudes in the head before I start to get bored.

Like with Destiny, the polished gameplay at least helps to obscure the repetition. The absolute coolest thing (which was accentuated for me after recently playing the Mass Effect games) is that going to and from cover is as natural as slipping on a pair of loafers. Entrenched enemies are easily countered by zig-zagging your way around bits of cover to flank them, a process made effortless thanks to the way the A button auto-sends you to wherever you're looking. If you haven't played The Division before, you don't know what you're missing; playing without this system feels as cumbersome as not being able to move and shoot at the same time. Being able to vault over a car and dash into nearby cover, without a worry that the controls will muck up your actions, is The Division's greatest strength bar none.

The gunplay is excellent as well, but not nearly as varied as I would've liked. Once I found the 100 bullet magazine LMG, I had no incentive to switch off from it even when I found weapons of a higher level. And I don't think it's because the LMG was perfect for me as much as sniper rifles and shotguns didn't have the stopping power I wished they had. Every single enemy in The Division is shockingly tanky, demanding up to a full magazine of damage to drop. The most effective method, in my experience, was loading an extended magazine onto my LMG and stabilizing my sights over the enemy's noggin, allowing me to drop an elite baddie in one go if they remained stationary. I came to adore the LMG's ferocity during my time with The Division, but it was largely a bonding out of necessity, not choice.

Likewise, I appreciate how many abilities are crammed into the game, though I felt little to no need to experiment. The problem is that enemies are as dangerous as they are beefy, requiring you to focus on 1) healing allies and 2) stunning foes. And with only three ability slots available to you (one of which is on a ~10 minute timer), you're likely going to prioritize things like a full heal over a minimal damage boost while in cover. Thankfully you can choose which heal you prefer and which stun you like (I was a big fan of the flashbang roly-polies), but once you find your winning combination it's easy to forget about the other options entirely.

I jumped into The Division to preface myself for The Division 2, and I don't really regret doing so. It was kind of a dumb idea since my game ran like crap, and they're mostly similar experiences anyway (yet another apt Destiny comparison!), but I liked seeing The Division's bold blueprint for an MMO FPS devoid of class types. I also enjoyed unearthing the game's pitiful shortcomings, thanks in large part to the ingenious cover system that kept the combat engaging even when the missions were not. It's tragic that the first game in the series is little more than a bygone relic of... four years ago, but having played The Division myself, I totally understand why it was ultimately abandoned.

Mario & Luigi: Dream Team - Thoughts

Mario & Luigi: Dream Team is a decent RPG infested with text boxes. What's great about it is that it's bright, light-hearted, and fairly creative... none of which alleviate the text box plague. The animations are fluid and lively—unlike the text boxes—and the game is surprisingly challenging, which helps to keep the combat exciting—though I can't say the same about the text boxes. Beyond that however, there's not much left to praise; honestly there's quite a lot to bemoan, like... what was it? Oh yeah, text boxes! And if you want to shout "look, I get it!" well... let's just say we're just getting started.

Because it's hard to refrain from shouting "look, I get it!" the entire game. Dream Team is downright mired in superfluous dialogue every other screen. You're saddled with not one but two chatty caretakers, neither possessing characteristics beyond being short tempered. People thought Navi was unbearable, but her prompts were mostly optional; Dream Team's aides are far more similar to Fi from The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, taking every opportunity possible to point out the most obvious stuff in the world. I know to press the R button to access my abilities, I know a red button should be hit with a hammer, I know the one path I can go down is literally where I need to go! And it's not just endless tutorialization—your guides tell you what to do every step of the way so that you're practically on rails for the entire of the game.

Plus the game is long too. Mario & Luigi titles occupy this sweet spot of being action RPGs not only in style but length, rarely lasting beyond 24 hours. But when I had eclipsed a full day of play time in Dream Team, I still had two large zones to explore with god knows how many text boxes lying in wait. And still—still!—the game had the nerve to explain what a shortcut was at the 30 hour mark! I found myself hoping the experience would end soon, not just so I could play something else, but because it was impossible to have fun. There's just no feasible way to make a Mario & Luigi game endearing for this length of time: the simplistic story line doesn't support the play time, locales & obstacles become repetitive, and the combat system loses its luster the longer you engage with it.

Everything else in Mario & Luigi: Dream Team is decent for the most part, though each of the game's positives come with their own negatives. The delightful animations are probably the best part about the game, although it's not like the charming art style was absent in previous entries. Combat is as engaging as it's always been, but the endgame boils down to "spam your best Bros. Attack on annoying enemies/bosses, jump on everything else." The colorful foes and their tricky counterattacks are fun, but there's roughly two enemy types per area, which gets stale incredibly quickly. The lore behind Pi'illo Island is mildly interesting, but the main villain is dull, forgettable, and takes a backseat to Bowser (snore). And the dream sections provide a brilliant idea blueprint, continuing the gameplay dichotomy introduced in Bowser's Inside Story but giving it a clever twist. However, Dream Team barely does anything with this concept, which is a damn shame.

Diving into Luigi's dreams to explore his version of reality is promising ground for some humorous hijinks, but the game treats it as a simple 2-D mirror of the zone you were just in. Dream-version of allies manifest to aid you, but they're exactly like their real world counterpart, and even "Dreamy Luigi" still uses the same old Luigi sprite. In certain rooms Luigi can control the background to give Mario more traversal options, or multiply himself to provide Mario... more traversal options, but that's the extent of the "dreaminess" the game delves into. Combat is nearly identical—which is a huge disappointment considering in the last game you could control Bowser—and the giant dream boss battles look nice but are WAY too goddamn long! Like, there's no RPG elements involved in them, so why would Alpha Dream make them last over twenty minutes?!

I also have some major gripes about the final boss (it was the worst endgame struggle I've had since Final Fantasy III on DS), but my agitation for this entry has reached its limit. All I'll say is that giving a boss the ability to 1) become invulnerable, 2) heal nearly 20% of their health, and 3) spawn enemies that provide the boss immunity until they're dispatched, is a bunch of bull—especially since there's no limitation on how often this ability can be spammed! Halfway through my first attempt on this colossal pain in the ass, they re-used this ability until they healed back to full health—and there was nothing I could do! A day later and I'm still flabbergasted at this absurdly obnoxious design choice.

I've complained a lot about Mario & Luigi: Dream Team in large part because I've always been a fan of the series. I adore the first game on GBA and think highly of Bowser's Inside Story (the second game is ok). But all Mario & Luigi: Dream Team did for me was affirm that I'm not interested in picking up Paper Jam any time soon. There's still a lot to like about the game, and a few moments that will elicit a good chuckle, but the slow pace coupled with a crushing length is a poisonous combination. Throw in a drought of enemy variety, a poorly explored dream premise, and an asteroid belt worth of text boxes, and suddenly Dream Team takes Mario & Luigi from a great alternative to Paper Mario to "maybe only play it if you're a fan... a fan with plenty of time on their hands."
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Images obtained from: youtube.com, ebgames.com, gaminginvented.com, theicecave.org, 

Mass Effect 2 - Thoughts

Mass Effect 2 has an amazing opening. An interstellar cruiser with an asteroid hull teleports out of nowhere and obliterates your ship, ostensibly killing your main character Commander Shepard in the process. Of course Shepard doesn't stay dead—and your ship gets reconstructed—but the bold start does more than just thrill: it establishes for all intents and purposes that the first Mass Effect has also been obliterated. Gone are the cumbersome inventories, the worthless RPG options, and the low-stakes conversations of the past. Mass Effect 2 is cleaner, more cinematic, and a categorical upgrade to the first game in almost every way. And it's not only a superior title—it's one of the best games on the Xbox 360.

That's not to say that Mass Effect 2 doesn't stumble. The worst part about the game is that it happily throws only two types of minigames at you over the course of thirty hours, meaning you'll "play" them over a hundred times. They're better than the droll Simon Says nonsense in the first game, but since neither minigame increases in intensity or complexity, they get real old real fast. Besides that, there's a slew of BioWare Bugs™ that will inevitably force a reload, and the UI remains in need of improvement. For instance, your upgrade catalog is sequestered to a computer terminal, ordered alphabetically instead of by type for some reason. And you can't even see what your squadmates' abilities do unless you bring them on a mission! I also have some reservations about the combat, but I'll get to that in a bit.

Mass Effect 2's failings may agitate, but they never really pull the game down. For the most part the rambunctious ride through space is smooth, fascinating, and always entertaining. What helps is that rather than embarking on a disconnected goose chase across the galaxy for an agent gone rogue, Mass Effect 2 is centered on two well-worn premises: building a team and getting revenge. The fabulously-designed Collector ship is an enigmatic vessel that hounds you throughout the story, its eerie, insectoid inhabitants popping up right when you start to forget about them. And your squadmates are as distinct as they are dangerous, being well-worth the effort it takes to recruit them thanks to their diverse designs, colorful backstories, and powerful abilities.

When I call their abilities "powerful", I don't mean it as some bizarre form of fictional flattery—your team in Mass Effect 2 frequently does heavy lifting. Taking cover has become a fundamental part of the series, as any unit left without it will get shredded to bits. Your allies are a key part of that "shredding": they unleash good damage, soften armor, and can pull entrenched enemies airborne so you can fill them with holes. I found myself constantly thanking my squadmates as peripheral foes flew back from concussive blasts or were ignited in a blaze of fire. Whereas the first Mass Effect had me babysitting my squadmates, in 2 I was trying my best to keep up.

Combat is no longer the clumsy slog it was in the first game, but it's not especially deep either. I don't think that's an indictment of the game's quality—I found the action to be plenty serviceable—it's just that you'll bereft of options most of the time. Battlefields can range from narrow hallways to larger stadiums, but since being out in the open is a death sentence, you'll find one piece of cover to plant yourself at and fight from there. And holy cow does Mass Effect 2 love throwing scores of enemies at you, making every encounter feel twice as long as it should be. The rock-paper-scissors system of having to deal with shields-armor-barriers keeps the gunplay from feeling brain-dead, but linking all abilities to the same cooldown pushes you to use same 2-3 routine powers. Again, the combat is satisfying for the most part, it's just that the longer you play Mass Effect 2, the more repetitive you'll notice the encounters are (and nowhere is this more evident than in the Arrival DLC).

Thankfully your journey through the galaxy is no longer comprised of dull rocky wastelands. Mass Effect 2 structures its campaign around recruiting allies and gaining their loyalty, which keeps the story strong, your tasks varied, and the narrative relevant. When you do decide to take a break and explore the unknown, the side missions are all surprisingly unique. True, Blood Pack is a lot like Blue Suns which is a lot like Eclipse, but the backdrops behind the mercenary groups offer the diversity that the first game desperately needed. On one planet you'll infiltrate a quarantined robot facility, on another you'll wade through a misty maze, and on another you'll tip-toe atop a crashed frigate teetering over a cliff. And those are just the side missions, the stuff BioWare is fine with letting you miss!

Lastly, the story retains the same level of excellence, both in content and prose, set by its predecessor. The removal of a lot of casual conversations might be disappointing to some, but I felt that Mass Effect 2 delivered a good mix of discussions both pertinent and incidental. The mystery of the Collectors has a good (though slightly ridiculous) payoff, and you'll come to love chatting with your staggering squad of twelve—or at least find a few to grow attached to. In the grand scheme of things, Mass Effect 2's plot is mostly connective tissue binding the first and third games together, but the enthralling story woven here outshines the tales surrounding it; 2 is the meat of the trilogy's sandwich.

Mass Effect 2's leap over the first game is practically cosmic. It's unarguable that in 2, the promising blueprint of Mass Effect has reached its full potential, culminating in one of the best experiences in gaming's seventh console generation. It's in no way a flawless game, but Mass Effect 2's problems come across as blemishes, not scars. It's an impressive, tense journey loaded with hours of content to ruminate over, managing to never overstay its welcome even if you 100% the game. I don't think any planet-hopping sci-fi video game has topped Mass Effect 2—and though it could be nostalgia speaking, I doubt any ever will.

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Images obtained from: NightSolo.net, etgeekera.com, youtube.com, NorthernLight.org

A Way Out - Thoughts

[contains minor spoilers]

I'm not sure where I stand on A Way Out—I've been left kind of... confused and unimpressed. The premise behind the game is amazing: it's a cinematic, co-op-only campaign about busting out of jail and getting sweet revenge. Despite both characters having their own distinct personalities and motivations, there's a lot about them that just doesn't mesh with the gameplay or the story. Honestly, A Way Out makes a good case for why realistic dialogue was removed for Brothers.

Hazelight's first game, Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons, is an excellent experience about two kids on a journey to save their father. What sticks out to the player the most throughout it (besides the purposefully awkward controls) are the moments of levity the brothers can engage in, as well as the gut-wrenching ending. Strangely, A Way Out unabashedly mimics these two facets, but comes across as more confused and dissonant due to it.

The main characters being playful and absent-minded in Brothers is great because they're literal kids. But in A Way Out, a mere day after escaping from prison, our convict protagonists invade someone's house and can... play piano? Smell flowers? Build a house of cards? The miscellaneous activities the players can partake in are fun, but they detract from the urgency of the story. Players can opt to avoid silly things, but then they risk missing out on dialogue and character flavor—the ingredients the game is built around. And humdrum activities like watching TV or petting an animal may be within the realm of realism, winding up a sewing machine serves no purpose other than to say, "Hey, look what we programmed into the game!"

Likewise the dialogue isn't natural in a plot that demands it to be. Tonally, Hazelight hits on all the right points, but conversations are frequently stilted, weird, and forced. A Way Out is written with the script consciously in mind, instead of an ear for how conversations should carry from line to line. And even when the dialogue doesn't sound foreign, there's usually not enough substance to what's being said. Most of the game (barring the final act) is played at face value, giving you few reasons to invest in its characters or loathe its cartoonish antagonist. You're better off enjoying the characters for their archetypes and thinking of the story as a pulpy 70s revenge flick.

The reason I'm so down A Way Out isn't because it's terrible; the game was just surprisingly mediocre. It looks alright and is entertaining for the most part, a couple of good co-op ideas popping up now and then. For example, there are occasionally forks in the road that ask the players if they want to solve a problem quietly or with violence, and being forced to row a boat together provides for some good laughs. The cinematic framing of the cutscenes and gameplay—which allow you to view the world through both character lenses at once—is a brilliant touch as well. There's also some fun gunfights the players get to partake in, which is laudable considering this is Hazelight's first crack at that style. However, at the heart of A Way Out is its narrative and its protagonists, and neither one really escapes being a shortcoming of the game.

I like the director behind the game, Josef Fares. I think he's a strong visionary that handles tragedy in his works very well. I believe the problem, however, is that he's a subpar writer—or at least, A Way Out has shown that the script needed more revisions and a serious editor. There's a little bit too much residual DNA left from Brothers here, and while the final act is the strongest moment of the game, the intrigue it brings is too little too late, and honestly comes across as forced. A Way Out's template could be used to make an interesting game in the future, but 'll likely always remember it as a goofy co-op adventure that left me scratching my head.

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Images obtained from: ea.com, ShyGuys.io, VentureBeat.com, TechRadar.com