SOMA - Thoughts

[contains minor spoilers]

To put it simply, SOMA is phenomenal. As a fan of Frictional's past work (Penumbra trilogy, Amnesia: The Dark Descent), I'm stoked that they've outdone themselves for their most recent release, and could not be more impressed—or enraptured!—with SOMA's underwater wasteland. While it does little to expand off of Amnesia's revolutionary gameplay, SOMA's philosophical conundrums will linger with you far longer than its scares ever could. At times you may even find yourself thankful you're not living in a reality so flush with robotics; the concept of "humanity" aggressively dissolves when consciousness can be adapted into ones and zeroes, capable of being uploaded, saved, and duplicated.

The most important thing to note is that SOMA isn't exactly pure horror. It's true that there are malformed monstrosities and scary moments lurking down in the depths, but the game focuses far more on oppression, misfortune, and moral grays. In that sense, horror is far from the main draw; perhaps I can best equate it to how fear works within the more action-packed Dead Space, being a tool of delivery for tense encounters. But whereas Isaac Clarke's battle against the Necromorphs is one of physical apprehension, Simon Jarrett's deep-sea struggle is centered around existential dread.

As soon as you (playing as Simon) get your brain scanned, you're immediately transported to a dilapidated sub-aquatic environment. You'll come across no other autonomous humans (there are plenty of corpses) and the only true ally you have in the game can come off as detached and rude at times (I still really liked her). You'll learn that it's impossible to return to the surface, and the only hope humanity has now is to live on in as pioneers in a digital world. And in order to ensure their survival, you'll have to make sacrifices that will force you to grapple with the very nature of consciousness itself. Nearly everything that happens in SOMA is meant to make you feel uncomfortable in a cerebral way, targeting existential anxiety over the more commonly evoked visceral nausea. And it succeeds very well at this.

That doesn't mean that the game does everything right. The monster encounters stay too close to Amnesia's "patrolling in the darkness" design, and the wounded effect is straight-up headache inducing (it's cool, but detrimental to playing the game!) However I can overlook these gripes thanks to how utterly convincing the game's world is. The sound design is lurid and foreboding, the voice acting is uncanny and human, and the art design put into each of the Pathos II stations (and the abyssal endgame areas) are both haunting and breathtaking. Nearly every step of the way is meant to make you feel lonely, separated from the life you once knew, now stumbling upon the threshold of futility. Even the main plot wraps up in a masterfully bittersweet way, prompting a constant stream of conflicting messages and "what if" scenarios in your head as you contemplate questions rare to the video game form (which is surprising given the AI obsession lately).

The scariest thing for me about going into SOMA blind was how/if Frictional could move forward after Amnesia's success. I'd go as far to argue that Amnesia is one of the greatest horror games of all time, yet still—despite the odds—SOMA has become my favorite title of theirs. It's a fascinating experience, gorgeous in a very cold, calculating way, offering forth a future that makes the modern man tremble in his corporeal form. Perhaps what's even more uncomfortable about it is that the questions it poses have the possibility—some centuries from now—not to be seen as frightening anymore, but rather, merely mundane.

(Had I played SOMA in 2015, it would've easily cracked my top five favorites from that year—hopefully I'll leverage my time better in 2016!)

Ys: The Oath in Felghana

Originally, I played Ys I & II Chronicles+ in order to prepare myself for Ys: The Oath in Felghana (I know I didn't need to play them in "order", but I figured it gives me a good perspective on the series). But Felghana is a different beast than the bumpin' grind-fest that I & II were. It's faster, prettier, smarter, and way more rock'n'roll. I was glad to finally find myself getting into the series, but many of the questionable Ys eccentricities still remained. So it's fun... but with plenty of exceptions.

The general story follows the mold of innumerable JRPGs at the time, which is a given since Falcom stuck close to the original 1989 material. While it feels like a retread of Ys I & II at times (a cheery town full of upstanding individuals, a faceless evil lurking in the shadows, and a naive girl that gets the cold shoulder from Adol—yet again), the writing is strong enough that I felt engaged whilst stumbling upon every predictable story beat. Though much of it is mostly forgettable, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't charmed by some of the characters, as well as interested in seeing how the main plot resolved itself.

But story has rarely been the main draw of the Ys titles. If anything, the combat usually garners the most attention, and here is no different. Gone is the bump system! In its place are beat-'em-up-esque controls, as Adol can only perform one combo on his colorful foes. This can be mixed up with some magic and aerial attacks, but for the majority of the game you'll be hearing the same six "swoosh"es over and over again as you cut your foes down (and thankfully they drop healing items this time around). It's better than the bump system because it demands more attention than "run into the corner of every enemy", though I do kinda miss the charm of smooshing enemies against a wall while grinding.

Luckily grinding isn't really required in Felghana. The trade-off is that you have to learn boss patterns more intensively, but you can always go decimate scores of baddies for XP if things get too crazy (and like with Ys I & II, one additional level makes a world of difference). I love me some tough bosses, but I didn't find Felghana to be a significant step above Ys II in this department—many of their designs are extremely gaudy and their attacks can be all over the place. Having the ability to jump adds this bizarre layer to the combat space where it can be hard to tell what plane bullets are on and whether jumping is effective during certain attacks or not. The fighting is a magnitude more frantic than it's ever been but it's not necessarily invigorating to play, since you'll have to memorize when/where to attack after many attempts on the same boss (the ice dragon was the worst offender).

I will give the game credit however—it can be pretty fun at times. The boss fights being difficult makes them rewarding to topple... well, when you're not frustrated out of your mind at the accuracy and speed of certain attacks. While the enemies aren't all that engaging to fight it's still satisfying to slash them to pieces, and each elemental magic is surprisingly useful (though nothing tops the whirlwind). The music is so over-the-top that it's an absolute blast to listen to as you explore the land; the tenacious fighting spirit of the Valestein Castle's track easily makes it my favorite. Another bonus is that no areas feel like filler, and by the end you'll feel sated from your seven hour sojourn in the troubled lands of Felghana.

I can't say Ys is a favorite of mine yet. It's too RPG-focused to be a purely satisfying action game, but the lack of combat depth doesn't allow it to rival other Action RPG titles. Ys: The Oath in Felghana exists in this strange middle-ground where it doesn't excel at one particular thing, as the boss battles are too disorganized, the story too bland, and jumping still feels weird to me.

However, it's not a bad game. I never got to a point where I felt upset or agitated like I did in Ys I & II, and I never needed to revert to a walkthrough to finish it (other than how to damage the last boss—a minor inconvenience compared to damn Darm Tower). It's a zany ride that offers a solid experience if you're interested in getting lost in a quaint yet nondescript world teetering on the brink of demise, or if you wanna just beat the ever-living snot out of some monsters.

Ys I & II Chronicles+ - Thoughts

 Ys I & II have not held up well.

To be fair they're an ancient piece of Falcom's history that started way back in 1987 on the PC-8801, and the remakes have done their best to try and stay true to the original's framework. However, that doesn't mean Chronicles+ is all that fun to play because of that. My first real foray into the Ys series felt like going back to a time where the wild idea of adventuring in a virtual 2D fantasy world was exciting in and of itself. But having experienced numerous other (more modern) titles, I couldn't help but feel like my time could've been better spent elsewhere.

The Bump system is a good idea—in theory. It boils traditional RPG encounters down to a mere second, since either you bump your foe into oblivion or they counter you. It reminds me of Half-Minute Hero in a way, as it makes grinding significantly more fun than in the original Dragon Quest and Final Fantasy. Trying to master your approach and angle of attack can feel a bit awkward at first, but it works for the most part in both games. And you better enjoy the Bump system, because it's the only action you can perform for the entirety first game.

The main problem with the combat is that nearly every enemy behaves the same way. Besides speed and durability, each baddie feels like the same creature in a different colored disguise. There's rarely any projectiles to dodge, clever hazards in the dungeons, or challenging gimmicks to any of the enemies—just bump 'em 'til they explode into XP. Ys II attempts to vary up its bestiary, but you can stun-lock most of the enemies before they even get a chance to charge their attack. After a while enemies become nothing more than minor inconveniences, and you begin to understand that what you're actually doing is traversing flat labyrinths for the entirety of the game.

The labyrinths aren't that interesting either. The artwork for the tile set itself is vibrant and gorgeous, but there's no identifiable landmarks or distinguishing feature to each dungeon, so it's easy to get lost if you lose your sense of direction. Besides the multitude of dead-ends waiting for you, there's also a boss to cap off each area that will test your mettle... but only in the second game. Ys I has some utterly atrocious bosses—like that accursed bat—so I was real glad to see the series do a 180 and offer up some great fights in Ys II. I'd argue the best part of that game was battling the agile monstrosities, but only when you're of an arbitrarily fitting level. Never have I played an RPG where your level is so essential to overcoming challenges before: the first boss of Ys I absolutely wrecked me until I purchased a new sword and leveled up, and then he was a joke (he died in three hits!)

I didn't like Ys I all that much. It was short, had boring areas to explore, and only Darm Tower at the end of the game was interesting. However that whole structure soured me due to the amount of backtracking required and how vague some of the progression was (use a hammer to break a column to rid a room of poisonous gas?). Ys II fared far better, but it's not a significant step up. Sure, there's more meat and variation to it (you finally get to use spells!) but the aforementioned enemy variety is still lacking and much of the path obfuscation remains. And the final level in this game was even longer and more obnoxious. If I was younger I wouldn't mind these dungeons taking over two hours to complete even with a guide, but currently I have little patience for that type of design.

Finally, the story is... whatever. It's the traditional "silent protagonist rescues girl(s) and saves the world from very evil bad guy", with some prophecy thrown in for good measure. Three things I liked were the Stormwall, the metaphysical division between Ys and Esteria, and the ability to talk to demons, but the game doesn't do anything interesting with either any of those: the Stormwall exists solely to strand you on the island, citizens in Ys and Esteria act the same, and the demons act just like regular NPCs! Even an idea as interesting as a goddess falling in love with a mortal is kinda brushed aside at the end, as if she was a schoolgirl struggling to confess to her crush (which she pretty much was). I admit it is demanding to ask more from a Japanese RPG made in 1987, and to the game's credit its characters are more memorable than many of the genre's kin at the time, but I suppose I just wanted the remake to explore more avenues that the original version opened.

Ys I & II Chronicles+ is an aged relic with a new coat of paint on it. The experience is more palatable with enhanced graphics, rebalancing, and multiple soundtracks, but the archaic details remain. The second game easily trounces the first with its bigger journey, better mechanics, and fantastic bosses, but it still has a long way to go to become something I'll ever play again. I'm not giving up on the series as I'm eagerly looking forward to playing The Oath in Felghana—it's just that the series' origins failed to impress me. Well, at least the games were relatively quick to play through.

Five 2015 Games I Enjoyed in 2015 - Opinion

This year in games was really tense for me—the games have been great but I've been desperately shoving everything I've been wanting to play into these last few months. So unlike last year, there's a whole lot of potential contenders that could've been on here if I had a little more time to play them this month rather than next (SOMA, Pillars of Eternity, Her Story, Ori and the Blind Forest, Downwell, Witcher 3... the list goes on). Yet just as with last year's list, know that the order is relatively loose and subject to change, and above all else, that numerical list-making is a largely fatuous pleasantry that shouldn't be the end-all-be-all of opinions. On with the show!

5 - AXIOM VERGE

Axiom Verge may be easy to dismiss merely by judging it on face-value (another 8-bit Metroidvania?), but like with my #1 Game I Enjoyed, there's a lot more to it than that. Tom Happ's game revels in its foreign atmosphere, possibly being the best 2D game about an alien world since Super Metroid. Controls are smooth, the weapons are varied, and the locales are both eerie and inviting. Plus, the lab coat is the best power-up I've had the chance to fiddle with all year. It's not too often you get to play something this immaculately designed.

4 - LIFE IS STRANGE

Wowsers! Who would've thought a game about two gal-pals hanging out and dealing with school drama would've been so fascinating? Of course Life is Strange is more than just he-said she-said hearsay—it's more about the nature of friendship and whether or not you can fix mistakes. There's more to the characters than you can glean at first glance and the gentle art style fits the game's highschool hipster theme like a glove. It's an evocative, colorful tale that's a must-play if you have a soft spot for nostalgia, mystery, and regret.

3 - THE BEGINNER'S GUIDE

There's a reason the background for my blog comes from The Beginner's Guide—it's a stellar, deep, and ponderous game. It feels uncomfortably personal, like looking back through someone's Facebook posts and analyzing every argument they've had... without any of their consent. Despite its movie-length brevity there's a lot of material presented here that you can mull over, and even if you're not into the haughty intellectual commentary regarding author-player relationships, The Beginner's Guide remains an interesting (and troubling) game about video game development and validation.

2 - BLOODBORNE

There are a handful of franchises that could become yearly sequels that I'd never tire of, and the Souls games definitely fit in this category. While not strictly a Souls game, Miyazaki's indelible touch is nevertheless present in Bloodborne, soaking through its tattered cloth and into the beastly hide that lies below. Its world is bleak and the combat is fierce; there's really nothing more I could want out of this Lovecraftian nightmare (outside of build variety). And out of all the games on this list, Bloodborne is the one that's going to get the most playtime from me—the only reason it's not higher is that the franchise formula isn't entirely fresh, but it's still a hell of a lot of fun to play.

1 - UNDERTALE

Undertale deserves all the LOVE love it gets. It's a truly remarkable, impactful tale that captures the whimsy of going on a silly adventure and making new friends. But it's not entirely innocent; Undertale asks you just how far you're willing to go to treat its charming characters as lines of code, forcing you to confront your willingness to empathize with something that's not entirely real. It's an extremely funny, sharp game that takes you on a roller coaster of emotions, utilizing some meta-concepts unique solely to gaming. Not only is it my favorite game this year, but it's also the most meaningful game I've played in a long time.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

GREAT GAMES I PLAYED THIS YEAR - DEUS EX...

Deus Ex is kinda light-hearted and wacky, but it's pretty entertaining. I spent a lot of time talking about how wild the game is in my blog post (the Illuminati is in it for goodness sake), but I failed to mention just how reinvigorating it was to play an oldschool FPS that doesn't hold your hand and demands that you explore its world thoroughly. There's a multitude of ways to tackle each area and the pace of the game flows nicely from one set-piece to the next, providing plenty of playtime over a variety of different settings. I think it's a far cry from being the best PC game of all time, but it remains fun to play through even today.

... AND CASTLEVANIA: DRACULA X

Deus Ex obviously deserves a spot for its greatness, but Dracula X also needs to be recognized for being a really excellent Castlevania game. Pit against Rondo of Blood, it's nigh-unanimous that people prefer the original version of the game, but Dracula X remains competent and fun. While Rondo has better paths and sleeker presentation, I actually prefer Dracula X's level design, visuals, and final boss more. It feels more like the true sequel to Castlevania III instead of a strange offshoot of the formula (Super Castlevania IV, Bloodlines), retaining the classic level of punishing difficulty the franchise was known for. Like Dark Souls II, it gets disparaged too often amongst fans; it's likely my favorite fourth generation Castlevania game.

WORST GAME I COMPLETED THIS YEAR - IMAGINE ME

I would have loved to say I didn't finish a bad game this year and have this section turn into a discussion of whether I found Hotline Miami 2, The Evil Within, or Okami more disappointing (they're good!—just disappointing), but Imagine Me takes the cake for being my gameplay nadir. It feels like an early access game most of the time, being unfulfilling and imbalanced, except... ya know, this is the final product. I wouldn't exactly compare it to the travesty that was Fahrenheit (though being able to look back on it, that game is growing on me akin to Wiseau's The Room), but there's still plenty in Imagine Me that makes it contemptible. There's far worse on Steam, but Imagine Me remains a poor game through and through.

WHAT'S MISSING? - SUPER MARIO MAKER

In theory, I adore Super Mario Maker. The game gives fans the job of being a level designer, learning the ins and outs of the mechanics and gameplay systems. It's one of those brilliant ideas where you wonder "why didn't they make this sooner?" However, it can be crushing to spend hours pouring over the layout and design of your stage, just to have it receive a 10% clear rating and one star. Even when I set about making more simple and friendly levels, the gate for being able to upload new levels is extremely low for someone with no designated followers, and I burned out on the game when I reached my limit. It's a shame, because I really like making 4-level "world" sets, but Super Mario Maker promotes brief ingenuity over a more classic-play experience. It's a fun game for sure, but unless you have the opportunity to watch someone run through your levels, it can be surprisingly lonesome.

... AND FALLOUT 4

Fallout 4 let me down. The spotty dialogue, general jank, and perforated story came together to create an experience that felt mostly like more Fallout 3. I enjoyed Fallout 3! But when I play the sequel to a 50 hour game, I expect those new 50 hours to offer something different. The addition of settlement building is super cool and the gunplay is worlds better, but there just weren't enough positives to outweigh the negatives. Honestly I walked away from it a bit drained, wondering why I didn't just play Wasteland 2 instead.
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Other images obtained from: gamesradar.com, Undertale.com, gematsu.com

Deus Ex - Thoughts

[contains spoilers]

Every now and then you may hear this sentiment: "I wish I could forget all about [certain piece of media] so I could experience it all over again." In that sense, there's an ironic fortune than one cannot appreciate when touching a revered classic for the very first time. Deus Ex is one of those well-regarded masterpieces that I had played a bit of as a teen, but never completed: the game felt clunky and aimless, while the gunplay was lackluster and getting spotted meant instant-death. I mean sure, having branching power-ups is cool and all, but this was no Half-Life... were my thoughts at the time.

So that's why it was important for me to revisit it in 2015 and go beyond the first few NYC missions; I needed to understand what made Ion Storm's dystopian cyber-future special and why people would give their left arm just to play it all over again with a fresh set of eyes.

Alright, so Deus Ex is goofy. It has a really solid foundation that actively encourages you to play to your skills, meaning that you should pick a few traits and hone those. Whereas in my first playthrough as an adolescent I went into areas with guns blazing, I decided to go for the stealthy takedown approach this time, utilizing the police baton and dart gun. Since I wanted to bring down my foes with melee combat as fast as possible, I focused on upgrading my hand-to-hand training first, and then pumped points into other abilities to help me navigate around the world (lockpicking, electronics, hacking). I tried my best to commit to a non-lethal playstyle, but the game pushed back hard against me—how are you supposed to tranq a cyborg?! So, being a stealth-amateur, I had to abandon my pacifist ways at the ocean base and unleash the might of the Dragon Claw laser sword.

Where the game gets silly is mostly during the spontaneous little moments you don't expect. The first explosive LAM I used destroyed a door and the unconscious body of a guard through a solid wall, thus ending my no-kill run quite early. When you use gas grenades on enemies, any damage you do to them will break them out of their "wiping face" animation cycle and allow them to shoot at you for a split second, before they realize their eyes hurt and return to rubbing. At Versalife I (in plain sight mind you) freed a bum and some dinosaurs from their cages, and while everyone in the entire facility panicked I stole a handful of augmentation enhancements. In Paris I asked a hobo for directions, thinking I had dodged the nearby patrolling guards, but mid-conversation a cyborg ran up to me with his guns primed, forcing me to panic-click through the rest of the dialogue before dying swiftly thereafter. And I shall never forget the glorious duel I had with the game's major antagonist Walton Simons, where I paused the game, activated my augmentations, and... defeated him in a single attack. Whose augs are outdated now?!

Oh, and you end up joining the Illuminati and fighting Roswell-looking aliens (which may or may not be enhanced apes) in Area 51.

And the stun prod animation is hilarious.

This is not to undermine the game's accomplishments—rather, they compliment them. Deus Ex is hailed as a pioneer of player choice, and nothing makes that more evident than when you're brushing up against its systems in a unique way (like with my Versalife experience). And the non-emergent aspects of the game that are comical—like the Chinese & French voice acting—don't necessarily interrupt the flow of gameplay or break the immersion either. The game is wacky at times, but you can still approach it with a serious demeanor and easily get invested in its cyber-conspiracies. It was cool that the story revolved around a world already knee-deep in augmentations, and I thought its portrayal of how the shift to industry left multitudes of the poor behind to rot was brilliant. The dialogue was also great for the gamut of topics that get covered, though occasionally weird in its delivery and brevity.

If there is one thing I can grill the game for, it's that the augmentations are bound to the horrendous function keys. I know this is before the days of weapon wheels and the like, but having to reach for F3 to dampen damage in the heat of battle never worked out in my favor; the amount damage enemies can do to you in this game is pretty insane, so being nimble on your powers is a must. While you can pause and activate your upgrades independently, this slows the gameplay down considerably and makes what should be a central mechanic to the game a chore. On the flipside, I did enjoy how useful these powers were and that the game forces you to choose between two distinct abilities for each body part.

Something else that surprised me was that the game isn't as open as I thought it was—there's only about 2-3 "routes" for each area. It's not really a grievance per se, but I didn't have the inclination to try and run through the game with a different "build" when I finished, especially since I thoroughly explored every map during my playthrough. Thankfully, the staggering amount of missions and places you'll visit provide a great sense of variation, and even as a linearly-crafted story, it remains thoroughly engaging all the way to the end. My favorite moment was in the chapel, where I read about Gunther crying all alone in the basement and festering in his anger towards me for the murder of Agent Navarre (it was self-defense!)—I actually pitied the poor lug. I mean I still wound up killing him (it was self-defense!), but it served as an effective, emotional story beat that made me detest MJ12 that much more.

While debating philosophy with the bartender you see in the screen above, I came upon the realization that Deus Ex really was doing something really unique at the time. What I failed to appreciate as a teenager wasn't just how robust and customizable the mechanics were, but how adventurous the game's spirit was. Nowadays it's easy to get spoiled by the saturation of RPG systems in FPSs and stories about government conspiracies centered on technological advancement, but it was a novel combination back in 2000 before the likes of Morrowind or Metal Gear Solid 2 were known. In that sense, that's why the droll moments of the game only add to its charm and luster—few other games were brave enough to attempt something as wild as this. And not only did Deus Ex pull it off, but its legacy can still be appreciated (and enjoyed!) by today's standards as well.

... So now with the original under my belt, Invisible War has to naturally follow, right?

Undertale - Thoughts

[contains spoilers]

It was an accident.

I mean, the game did instruct me on the right course of action, but I didn't want things to turn out this way—I was just trying to get Toriel down to low health so I could spare her. That's how I thought battles were supposed to go after all: just weaken them, and then let them flee. But then a sudden flash—a crit!?—and she was dead. Guilt dampened my mood as I marched forward, a flower lying in wait to taunt me with his grim face for what I've done. So instead of letting this misdeed persist, I reset.

And the game knew. Flowey mocked me for that as well, knowing that I had abused the ability to save. He warned me that he wanted that power back, and that's when I knew Toby Fox's Undertale certainly wasn't like any other "RPG" I had played before.

Well, that last statement isn't entirely true—Undertale is clearly inspired by Earthbound. From the quirky humor to the grim, 4th-wall breaking finale, Undertale takes many nods from the Nintendo classic... but never copies it. Sure, there's an emphasis on family and laughs, but the game treads its own ground by addressing what it means "kill" in an RPG. That concept is not a unique one to games, but tying certain aspects that are exclusive to the medium—like "leveling up", "saving", and "determination" (ie the will to keep playing a game)—so naturally into the narrative is a feat that has rarely been seen before. Undertale and The Beginner's Guide are the only titles released this year (that I've experienced) where their story cannot be separated from their gameplay by any means.

This inextricable link may appear subtle at first because of how innocuous the game seems. When you start off, you'll notice that the visuals are very... strange. While character models in shops are well animated, characters out in the world can range from "silly" to "downright ugly". There's a sterile, flat look to the combat that breaks the mold for the final encounters, but for the most part the enemies and attacks remain plain. It's obvious that the visuals are the game's low point—they're not offensive by any means, but they won't win any accolades.

Everything else in Undertale is absolutely captivating. The music bristles with energy and emotion, punctuating silly scenes with "Dogsong", invigorating the player with "ASGORE", and submerging you in a tidal wave of emotion with the title track. There's a huge amount of flexibility in the game's score, and I'd argue that it's one of the most memorable OSTs you'll hear all year. Seriously, how can you listen to this and not immediately hear that character's low-toned voice prattling off in your head?

The surprising variety of tunes are a herald of just how diverse Undertale is too. There's a lot of monster debating and bullet dodging to be had, but the ways in which these are constantly changed up leave the game feeling fresh over its six-hour journey. Areas don't drag on for too long, jokes don't overstay their welcome (besides the reoccurring anime ones), and the game always tries its best to entertain you, whether it be cooking with your mortal enemy or stumbling into an impromptu Final Fantasy VI opera.

Perhaps best of all is that the game is sharp with its humor too—it's witty without ever having to rely on base humor or forced "lol random!" jokes. It anticipates what the player is likely to do and plays with those expectations, constantly surprising you with tidbits you weren't expecting or completely forgot about (like the reuse of the tile "puzzle", meeting the rest of Snowdrake's family, and Napstablook coming to your rescue). The "dates" you go on in the game are some of my favorite moments, due to the sheer stupidity of the situations you'll find yourself in when making new friends.

As much as the game makes you laugh, there are plenty of shadows lurking underneath all the smiles. In a kind of twisted way, the characters are purposely lovable and goofy in order to illustrate just what a emotionless monster you'd have to be to attempt a genocide run. And this is where the story connects to the gameplay in an extraordinary way: do you attempt to level up by inflict harm on Undertale's naive populace, or brave fighting difficult enemies with a meager amount of HP? And if you do desire to level up, just how far are you willing to go?

The first time I played through the game I killed a couple of monsters (just enough to get me to 40 HP) and realized how strange it is that our first instinct upon entering a gaming space is to think about what to kill and destroy, rather than whom we'll meet and befriend. And I don't mean this in a "we should have more games with nonviolent options" way (though those are always welcome)—it's more about how peculiar it is that when approached with the option to be violent, players can and will be. This is especially true where saving and loading are concerned, as there's some kind of weird enjoyment to be had in playing with a system's boundaries (I can't be the only one that reloaded my game in Mass Effect to see what would happen if I shot Wrex). By extension, Flowey mirrors the player's gruesome curiosity during his final battle—which is extremely terrifying, by the way—showing you how deranged one can become when given the ability to exploit a given instance with unlimited power (which is further supported by his genocide route dialogue). It's horrible to see it given form within the context of the game, but difficult to recognize and parse when we're the ones behind the wheel.

I didn't fully understand the game's message the first time I played it, because... well, I killed Flowey. I thought Asgore deserved some retribution for what happened to him! Naturally I felt guilt for my impulsive decision while I was undertaking the Pacifist route. Having the game's outcome change so dynamically for that path was something I wasn't expecting too, and only further emphasized just how wondrously Undertale is designed. The true final battle is a bittersweet event that I'll have to discuss another time, but safe to say it's my favorite moment out of the whole game. And on top of that there's the Genocide route and its implications, which I didn't have the nerve to carry out myself (I watched it on youtube, shamefully). The way that vile path harangues you for your actions is great—it constantly asks if filling imaginary bars for the sake of "completion" is better than hurting the imaginary friends you were once happy to spend time with. It's kind of eerie to think that to some people it actually is, and I'm almost tempted to say that it says something about them.

Almost.

Like the Last of Us, Undertale is a game that gets a lot of love and high praise for a damn good reason. Its memetic influence may grate on people, especially as it continues to garner attention and rise in popularity, but the game was crafted with a wholesome spirit, one that desires nothing more than to tell an endearing tale. It's an extremely sentimental, honest, and imaginative experience that can only be told as a video game, using the strengths of the medium to drive home its thoughtful points. Undertale is an indie gem that will stand the test of time, because it—like its player—has heart.
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Images obtained from: undertale.com

Axiom Verge - Thoughts

Axiom Verge is a very competent Metroidvania, quite possibly the best (non-Castlevania) one I've played since Shadow Complex. Looking at screenshots you may be fooled into thinking it's some kooky NES Metroid ripoff—the end-screen doors, power-up pedestals, blocky health bar, etc. are all obvious nods towards Samus Aran's original interstellar quest. But Axiom Verge easily comes into its own as the game progresses, establishing a story and weapon system that is unique to its brand of run 'n gun gameplay. The hypnotic opening beat of the first area sets the mood of your strange journey to come; Sudra is an alien world where only those willing to fight survive.

The emphasis of the setting being an alien world cannot be understated—the atmosphere is unnerving and strange. Colors and corridors are unnatural, your enemies even more-so, and the various bosses you encounter are massive and mutated. Some of the outdoor environments feel the most comforting because of how closely they tend to resemble Earth in their familiarity, while indoor corridors with their grotesque, throbbing interiors make the player feel outright terrified. It's easy to say that the designer Tom Happ was inspired by Geiger, but rather than mimic his style outright, he fuses it into the world... it's sort of like exploring Contra's final stage if it wasn't so blatantly based off of Alien.

Speaking of Contra, the gunplay is far more important in Axiom Verge than many of its brethren. The sheer quantity of armaments you obtain echo this; rather than stack your upgrades as in Metroid, your bullets merely change property and you can flip through their variations on the fly. A lot of them are surprisingly useful, as you will need to adjust your attack based on your enemy's position, health, number, and speed. The main blaster is the MVP of the game, but plenty of other styles have their situational advantages from time to time. It's a bit of a shame that some cool weapons come near the end of the game, but I was also glad that continuing to explore Sudra's hidden caverns was a worthwhile endeavor.

However, the weapons you gather pale in comparison to certain powerups you obtain, which cement Axiom Verge as "not another mere Metroid clone". While the Address Disruptor—which takes the concept of "glitches" from the NES era and giving them a ludonarrative purpose—is the frontrunner for the game's innovation, the Lab Coat and its iterations are my personal favorite. Once you master the Lab Coat and where to spot its "application" in the world, it changes how you see secrets and is a ton of fun use. I'd go as far as to argue that it's the best traversal mechanic added to a 2D game since the dash in Mega Man X. The remote drone also deserves some kudos for how clever it's used throughout the game as well, especially once you gain its essential upgrade.

At first I felt Axiom Verge would've been better off with less story (like Lords of the Fallen), as what was written felt somewhat generic and intrusive. However there was a lot more depth to the plot than I initially saw as I trudged deeper into Sudra's labyrinthian core. What started as a simple "turn back on the machines and kill the nasty bad guy" became a far more complex web, riddled with mysteries about Sudra's culture and purpose, going as far as to discuss the nature of algorithmic consciousness. The plot itself is a bit too dense for me to personally unravel, but it's interesting enough that anyone looking to decrypt the history of this foreign civilization will have their hands full. That, and the story doesn't quite unfold as you might expect, which is a pleasant (welcome) surprise.

At times the enemy placement can feel all over the place (climbing up the cliffs of Kur multiple times is quite tedious), but since the game is hinged on being strange, its questionable placement is admittedly thematically consistent. But what I can't overlook is how the game botches the last boss fight. Simply put, it's a chaotic, nonsensical mess where random health drops dictate the pace of the fight, making its climactic finale an utter chore (at least it was for me on Hard). What makes this especially egregious is just how solid the rest of the game is in executing on its mechanics and gameplay—it's like eating a scrumptious seven course meal just to receive freezer burnt store-brand sherbet as your dessert. The last level also doesn't feel all that crazy or tense compared to the rest of the game, but that's merely a nitpick compared to the final encounter.

Axiom Verge hits on nearly every mark: its visuals, story, music, atmosphere, and sense of progression are all fantastic. It's one of the few games that almost feels like it wasn't designed by a human: the warped world, enigmatic Rusalka, and foes clad in an organic carapace will make you eager to return home. But the longer you stay in this world, the more you will grow to understand its underlying laws—and how to break them. Axiom Verge is a must-play for those looking for a classic—yet evolved—Metroid game.