No Secrets Here. *Editor's Note: Story details are discussed in this review. Video games are a sort of magical medium, in my mind. They exist at this sort of intersection of many other art forms, utilizing the visual language of films, the written word of novels, and the tactile experience of play. The way that the experience of a game is simultaneously affected by the sound, look, and feel is fascinating, allowing us to derive meaning and form stories through our engagement with the material. However, there is also a sort of friction built into their design, existing simultaneously as works of art and toys. But there is artistry in toymaking. Although the aims may seemingly be less lofty than those of the marble sculptor, few would say that there is a lack of intent or craftsmanship in their design. For games, much of the narrative is experiential. Stories are oft told through text, and a plot that selectively delivers them in the intended sequence to derive meaning — something Hollowbody achieves through flashbacks and found writings as the game progresses — but we engage with games through play. This relationship allows us to not only take something from the effort but also bring something into it as well. Publisher: Headware Games Developer: Headware Games Platform: Played on PlayStation 5 Availability: Released on September 12, 2024 for PC, and June 4, 2026, for PS5 and XBOX Series X/S. Hollowbody hands you control quickly, wasting little time in having players take the long walk down to a beach to investigate some anomaly. There is a dreariness to the visuals that recalls the Jurassic Coast on a cloudy day, the uncomfortable controls lending weight to the unease of the moment. This intro is short, but it sets the plot in motion, showing the disappearance of the main character’s partner under mysterious circumstances. We then cut to our lead, Mica, who crashes into a city — specifically, the Exclusion Zone —while searching for her other half, leaving no way out; the only way out is through. I couldn't help shake the feeling that we’ve been here before. Landing on the foggy streets of this desolate urban sprawl, the roads drive us to a run-down apartment complex nearby. The apartments are dilapidated, crawling with bugs, mold, and grime. Exploring within leads us to dried-out bodies and handwritten notes, fleshing out the thoughts and actions of the people trapped here as their end approached, confusion dripping in much like the malaise that snaked through the pipes. Occasionally, you can even pick up signals with your COTAC hand radio that relive the past through little vignettes, offering more intimate looks at the people who live in the houses or stayed in the nearby rooms. Unfortunately, these notes and calls never amount to more than a basic recounting of things that transpired. There is a sense that those in the city were largely unaware of what was happening until it was too late, with these portraits painting a picture of people becoming more and more isolated, confused, and dejected over time. However, there's no particular prevailing theme or message. No buildup to what comes next, or how the things you’ve already seen might relate to the events at hand beyond simple explanation. Their abundance makes the world-building feel repetitive, with each new piece doing little to differentiate itself from the last. This is exemplified at the end of the game’s first area, where you come across a man on the ledge of the rooftop. Hollowbody doesn’t give you the full picture in any moment in its short runtime, least of all in its most important ones. This is one of the few instances in the game with a cutscene, so you know it is meant to matter, but I don’t think many would have guessed that this is the only event throughout the entire scenario that matters at all for the ending. While we cannot see him fully, this man appears to be undergoing some physical distress, with his visage being reminiscent of the monsters you fight through the level. The conversation that takes place allows players to make choices in how to approach or address this person, and if players want to see the “good” ending, they must answer in a specific way to save him, and, by extension, Mica. However, there's no particular prevailing theme or message. No buildup to what comes next, or how the things you’ve already seen might relate to the events at hand. The problem, I suppose, isn't in the fact that this single encounter determines our fate. On the contrary, many events and decisions in our lives have pointed outcomes and effects. Instead, the failing is in the buildup and resolution. There are no hints as to who or what this stranger is, before or after the encounter. He is functionally a non-entity thematically and narratively — just a thing that might save you later, unbeknownst to you. A shallow object. Empty. A function. His presence feels ephemeral, like a will-o'-the-wisp sent from beyond only to then dissipate. Except he stays nearby — a hanger-on to Mica’s little adventure. If he didn’t appear in the ending as an active participant, I’d almost wonder if he was a hallucination — a major technique that Hollowbody frequently employs in its scares. Faces appear in the corners of the room as the player navigates the dark, disgusting homes, and rooms shift wildly as things get tense, subverting the player’s understanding and expectations of what comes next from room to room. But the lighting is a major detriment to showcasing this, and greatly hinders both the navigation and experience of engagement. Hollowbody is much too dark to ever really get a sense of the space you are in. At times, I felt as if I were playing a bumblebee, buzzing from point to point, clumsily bashing into everything until I found the right object or the correct room to move forward. Despite obfuscating the actual elements held within the corridors, this darkness largely fails to bring any real tension. While numerous horrifying entities are wandering the hallways, streets, and sewers of the world, they are given away by the rattling noises they make when nearby. There is little mystery to what the next room may hold when you can echolocate each living being within a four-mile radius. In some cases, these enemies can be clearly seen, while in others, it may require a bit of stumbling to engage with them. There is an uncertainty to these encounters, despite them posing no real threat to the player, and it comes in the form of how incompetent Mica is at doing much of anything. Aiming at an enemy, swinging your weapon, or even running — each action as awkward as a baby bird’s first flight, only poor Mica must flail in the dark instead of under the supervision of a caretaker. Perhaps Mica is simply afraid, letting the scenery get the best of her, a trepidation under Mother’s watchful eye. Bashing their heads in with a guitar is a mercy. Not only are these waking nightmares pathetic as combatants, but they are made up of those aforementioned trapped citizens — a sad end to the people locked within this town. The clumsiness caused by the pervasive darkness gets its tendrils into other mechanical aspects, as well. Without the ability to clearly see, players must rely on dim lights to indicate points of interest and spatial direction. And so the player must meander toward the lights, like a moth searching for salvation. There does happen to be a flashlight for players to use, but it provides very little focused light and swings wildly as players run or flail a weapon about. Yet the flashlight does reveal the pathway to us, even if only marginally. When traversing the dark tunnels of the sewers or the shadowy halls of a hotel, the flashlight slowly illuminates our path, revealing details one would otherwise miss in a casual jaunt through a bright room. The darkness recedes in small chunks as players press forward, giving off the appearance of a creeping mold set to devour this world. But our light, our torch, drives it away. The darkness cleansed as if facing the full power of the Sun. But when that darkness is driven away, there is very little of interest to be found. This is especially true in the back half of the game, where the environments and cohesion of the writing lose a bit of focus, with the final spaces shuffling Mica from point to point seemingly haphazardly, until we finally blunder into whichever ending we have been given based on the presence of the mysterious stranger. The darkness recedes in small chunks as players press forward, giving off the appearance of a creeping mold set to devour this world. But our light, our torch, drives it away. The darkness cleansed as if facing the full power of the Sun. So, the question remains: what makes a great horror work? There’s a quote from John Carpenter that I love to think about: “There’s a very specific secret: It should be scary.” Fear can be brought forth in myriad ways. Threat of bodily harm is certainly the most prevalent one, but great horror films, books, and games build on their ideas, formulate the story and perspective, and shape it into an experience that elicits some sort of response to the actions of the characters and monsters; they drive us into caring about the characters, set up the stakes, and put those characters through something. In Hollowbody, Mica mostly moves through the action undisturbed. I was left undisturbed. Aside from a few short conversations on the telephone, very little can be taken from Mica as a character. She has no reactions to any of the events as they transpire, and she makes few comments on the monsters prowling about or the sadness of the people who became them. She exists only as a means to move through this space. Much has been made of a supposed horror game renaissance in the last decade or so, but one does have to wonder: why is this moment considered a resurgent period? I’ve never really gotten the sense that horror left. Every era since the original PlayStation has generated classics, with indie and blockbuster titles making names for themselves in equal measure. Is it by simple numbers that we are seeing more great horror games? That much is true — the sheer volume of games made today outlandishly eclipses the numbers of yesteryear — but I think something else is happening to push this along: nostalgia. The current attitudes toward horror are not necessarily driven by the elevated quality of the works, but by recognition. This can be seen in the fevered reactions to each new Resident Evil remake, and in the overwhelming response to reinterpreted games like Silent Hill 2 (the Bloober one). Conversations, impressions, and expectations are all foisted upon the games before they have even come out — another thing Hollowbody has itself fallen prey to in the past. Conversations, impressions, and expectations are all foisted upon the games before they have even come out — another thing Hollowbody has itself fallen prey to in the past Even many new, original releases are explicitly trying to capture the feel or essence of older games, and Hollowbody is one such example. It adopts the graphical stylings and atmospheric language of its direct influence, the Silent Hill series, harkening back to a time when games were made “like this”. It reaches for the past, trying to tie itself into conversation with Silent Hill, without ever attempting to emulate the “why” that makes those games interesting or unique. There's a certain romanticization of the horror classics seen in the game that just doesn't do anything for me, and I think it largely comes down to the types of things Hollowbody takes from its inspirations. The secret notes, the malformed bodies, all the way to how the game looks — these are not the essence of those classics. It is not what made them great. By pushing itself into the same room as the classics and deliberately evoking them, Hollowbody does itself a disservice. In the simplest terms, Silent Hill games are about more than fighting scary guys, and are aiming to convey specific messages and themes, using both the language of play and the written word to guide players into taking something from the experience. When James fights a monster in Silent Hill 2, he is reckoning with his own fears and mistakes, but when Mica fights a monster, it is just a thing that happens — a hollow body in the way of task completion. Verdict Image Credits: Headware Games via JetsonPlaysGames Disclaimer: We received a copy of this title for free from the publisher.

The crypts of this alien world have begun to close in around my squadron. I'm on my fourth consecutive firefight, and as accustomed as my Imperium soldiers seem to the slaughter, the endless reanimating hordes of Necrons have turned these skirmishes into a meat grinder. Units fall to the weird green plasma of their weapons left and right. But finally, the exit is in sight. The Omnisynod requires our leader, Videx, make it back to the Forge City at all costs. Glory to the Omnissiah. One problem. Videx, my leader for this mission, is a big boy, and he can't fit through the route I've directed him toward. As he rounds the corner, his holy mechanical limbs wedge between two pillars, and just like that, the mission fails — death comes quickly, painfully. I restart the skirmish, deciding to take a different direction this time, right into the mouth of a Necron Destroyer. So I restart a third time, going back to the old path but trying a slightly different route. I get the same result as the first — stuck on the map behind a slower unit, unable to pursue the wider path that can accommodate Videx's four-square body. I think about how I wish I had brought Khepra or Captrix along instead. Publisher: Kasedo Games Developer: Bulwark Studios Platform: Played on PC Availability: Released May 21, 2026, for PC, PS5, and XBOX Series X/S. Warhammer 40K: Mechanicus II is a satisfying but also frustrating experience — and moments like the ones I just described lie at the heart of that tension. Escaping death is one of Mechanicus II's greatest joys. The game's many tactical skirmishes feel calibrated to produce that sense of narrow escape and sudden, decisive victories. At its best, Mechanicus II settles into a pleasant rhythm of intense tactical battles interspersed with crowd-pleasing genre writing and higher-level strategic decision-making. However, its strengths are consistently hamstrung by some unfortunate UI implementation, a strange reluctance to make critical tactical information available to players, and significant pacing issues that ultimately keep the dark heart of this new entry in the Warhammer gaming universe from shining as brightly as it should. Warhammer 40K: Mechanicus II is, at its core, a tactical RPG in the vein of X-COM where you build a squadron of units before each mission to take into battle under the leadership of one of five unique characters who serve as your faction's captains. These skirmishes unfold on relatively small battlefields, each of which is laid out in a grid where a smattering of obstacles, cover, and terrain features adorn otherwise straightforward arenas. Your path to victory usually lies in one of a few directions: killing all enemies, killing a specific enemy, keeping your own captain alive for a set number of rounds, or making it to an extraction point. In between these tactical fights, you execute a range of side missions, send captains out on assignment, upgrade your units and leaders, and generally try to position yourself for success in the next round of skirmishes. It's a solid if well-trodden formula. There is so much depth to the mechanics and world of Mechanicus II Mechanicus II puts its best foot forward with an excellent prologue that introduces players to the stakes and key figures in this corner of the Warhammer universe. It's a tale as old as time — expansionist, technologically advanced space-farers attempt to industrialize a far-flung planet and find that it's not as uninhabited as it looks. In this case, the space-farers are a bunch of weirdly philosophical cyborgs, and the inhabitants are pharaonic skeletons with weird radiation signatures and immortal magic. If you're like me, someone who is aware of the Warhammer property but has steered clear of it for fear of losing your house and good credit score, fear not. Mechanicus II expertly introduces its world and characters through this prologue and the game's opening act. As its story of planetary conquest and defense unfolds, the scenarios are articulated well enough that I never felt lost in the lore sauce — the situations are contained and familiar in a satisfying way, and all the character motivations are legible almost immediately. That prologue is followed by a strong opening act where, regardless of which faction you're playing, Mechanicus II offers an early array of critical path missions that help showcase the strengths and uses of each leader. These missions require you to take specific leaders onto the battlefield, which allows Mechanicus II to design skirmishes around the specific strengths and weaknesses of those characters. On my fifth mission for the Adeptus Mechanicus faction, for instance, I took Captrix — the Prime Hermeticon huntress — out on an escort mission. Captrix's starting special ability involves granting herself and her units additional mobility, a true boon on a mission where we are meant to keep a slow-moving friendly alive across the battlefield. The entire first act is full of clever design decisions like this that emphasize the unique vibe of each leader and leverage what appears to be a large variety of missions and enemy types to make appropriate use of those abilities. If you're like me, someone who is aware of the Warhammer property but has steered clear of it for fear of losing your house and good credit score, fear not. Unfortunately, this early momentum grinds to a halt once the full game opens up, as the mission structures very quickly begin to feel generic, repetitive, and artless — especially those off the critical path. Don't get me wrong, each skirmish still came with a satisfying, puzzly bit of crunch. The variety of units and the multiple layers of advancement mean that there are always new ways to bring carnage to the enemy. I found the winged flamethrowers, the Pteraxii Sterilizors, to be a particularly fun way of bursting AOE damage while controlling the battlefield terrain. There are always fun new combos to be found between the mixture of passive and active abilities each unit brings to the table, but when strung together, one after the other, the battles lose their sense of identity, becoming a vague wash of samey tactical decisions. The exception to that monotony is the critical path missions, which, while retaining much of the same structure, at least spice it up with some reasonably compelling character interactions. These exchanges may be delivered in a visual novel style between your chosen faction's protagonists and side-players, or even as some in-the-moment tactical decisions that might grant your unit a small bonus or obstacle to overcome in their next fight. Those interactions are a major highlight of Mechanicus II for me, offering a surprising dose of grimdark camp that, along with the beautifully realized art and effective score, combine into a pretty engaging atmosphere. It is, at the end of the day, a world and a design loop that is satisfying in and of itself, despite the monotony of the mission structures. However — and this is a big however — for a game that puts so many of its eggs in the basket of the moment-to-moment tactics of its battles, it consistently gets in its own way in terms of providing players enough at-a-glance information to make informed decisions. Sometimes, this is due to baffling user interface decisions, as it is with Rho. Rho is a tanky, axe-wielding leader whose special abilities are fueled by something called Data Choir, the amount of which he has can only be seen by right-clicking his character model, scrolling down a list of attributes and statuses in a pop-up menu, and finding among them a number in parentheses besides the name of the passive ability. This is a number you need to be able to see to make even the most basic tactical decision when Rho is on the field, and for some reason, they've chosen to hide it behind three additional clicks and a scroll. These sorts of user interface peccadilloes are kind of everywhere in Mechanicus II. It's hard, for instance, to understand at a glance on the world map what the relative value of one side mission is against another. It's not clear, either, what is lost or gained by the expansion and contraction of territory under your control. The character interactions are a nice way to break up the moment-to-moment gameplay. The incoherent approach to interface design multiplied my frustration with the repetitive mission structure. I often felt that routine things would go wrong, not because I had made a poor decision, but because I didn't catch a crucial bit of information that had been buried somewhere I didn't look or, in some cases, just wasn't available at all. Which meant, in the event I lost a skirmish, I'd need to go back and replay an already repetitive series of missions rather than progress through the otherwise interesting story and compelling ability trees. For me, this came to a head during the skirmish I described at the start of this review. I had taken Videx, a kind of Humpty Dumpty–looking tech-zealot, out on the mission. Going deep into Necron Territory made this a mission of aggression, and — based on that description and what I knew of Videx’s skillset — I felt he would be a good choice to take in. Big mistake. Instead, what I found at the end of four or five tough battles where my units had gradually been whittled away was an extraction mission where I was meant to sprint to the other side of the map as row after row of Necron reinforcements streamed in from the edges. Only Videx needed to make it alive to the extraction zone, but he was my slowest leader, and unlike three of his four other compatriots, he took up four squares on the grid instead of one. In other words, he was the worst possible leader for me to have taken on this mission, and by my fifth or sixth death, I felt, frankly, a little misled. I often felt that routine things would go wrong, not because I had made a poor decision, but because I didn't catch a crucial bit of information that had been buried somewhere I didn't look or, in some cases, just wasn't available at all. This all might sound like a bit of sour grapes, and honestly, I think it is. In most ways, Mechanicus II is exactly what I want out of this kind of game — solid tactical core, interesting unit and enemy variety, a tightly written and characterful story, and satisfying skill progression are all here. And at the end of the day, I do recommend Mechanicus II. Games in this vein, with these kinds of production values and this level of expressiveness in its combat mechanics, are rare. But that recommendation is couched in a bed of frustration about what this game could have been if it had been more thoughtful about the player's experience, and had leaned more heavily on the careful pacing of its opening acts. Verdict Image Credits: Kasedo Games via JetsonPlaysGames Disclaimer: We received a copy of the game from the publisher.

I’m not a very adventurous gamer. My Steam profile can attest to that: my most played game is The Sims 4 at nearly 400 hours, and my Nintendo Switch says the same about Animal Crossing: New Horizons at nearly 350 hours. The next most-played game is Pokémon Scarlet, with nearly 100. The point being that I generally stick with the same themes over and over, like three big hyperfixation cycles battling for dominance in a constant rotation. LumenTale: Memories of Trey spoke to the part of my brain that loves turn-based battles. Low-pressure, easy to step away from when I get too freaked out, and forgiving enough that I can quickly Google a type matchup without feeling like I’ve ruined everything. The pixelated sprites felt reminiscent of the older Pokémon games I played as an 8-year-old, and it hit the same soft spot that fuels my incredibly unhealthy obsession with Stardew Valley. And. It was really good. The whole half hour or so of gameplay that I tried, anyway. Publisher: Team17 Developer: Beehive Studios Platform: Played on Nintendo Switch Availability: Released May 26, 2026, for PC and Nintendo Switch Before I get into the details, it’s only fair to add a small disclaimer: I really didn’t make it far. A few quests in, I hit a wall, and any attempt to fix it, including a full uninstall, amounted to zilch. Nothing. Nada. Goose egg. It’s also worth noting that the review copy I received was for the Nintendo Switch. So, to avoid spoilers and to stay as neutral and fair as possible (again: unplayable), I can really only talk about the gameplay, the visuals, and the initial worldbuilding. Right off the bat, the game both hooked and overwhelmed me. You start as a man or a robot (I genuinely could not tell), and you learn you’re named Trey. The confusing part is that you only discover this after your body is found by Ales (who I assume is the main supporting character), only after you are ‘rebooted.’ The reboot process involved answering a series of questions, including entering a name, and after submitting all your answers, you learn you’re Trey. Right off the bat, the game both hooked and overwhelmed me. When you wake up, you’ve lost all your memories. They trickle back in the form of fuzzy, dim cutscenes, with players named the typical “???” to signify you don’t know them yet, and terminology you’ve already heard spoken but don’t have the context for. It’s disorienting in a way that feels intentional, and it immediately sets a tone: you’re missing something important, and you can feel the shape of it even if you can’t name it. After the reboot, you’re immediately faced with your very first challenge. Ales refuses an “expensive and difficult to acquire” Holoken — a birthday gift from his uncle. You learn that a Holoken is a device that allows you to catch and battle creatures called Animon. Holokens are primarily used by people called Lumen, who are essentially guardians of the world that use Animon to protect the realm. After the argument, Ales runs off, and you pick up (read: steal) the Holoken. You can’t quite figure out why you’ve devolved into petty theft, but you chase after Ales and save him with what should have been his Holoken. Once you have proven your innate talent with wielding the Holoken, it is fully entrusted to you, and you are given the chance to pick your starter Animon. This was the most overwhelming part for me. There are several Animon to choose from, and you don’t simply pick one and receive it. You have to battle the Animon you want using a borrowed Animon; if you win, it joins your party. The battle takes place within an “in between” realm, something you learn you can decorate. Unfortunately, I never got far enough to actually do that, because I hit a broken loading screen that prevented me from progressing very far. LumenTale has a stunning HD-2D look to it. The early quests were a little strange, and the initial quest flow felt lacking. For example, one of the first questlines is to “help the citizens of the city,” but you end up helping a total of one person (and their assistant) by ridding the forest of a herd of Animon that have made it their home. After that, you get chucked straight into the deep end within the first 30 minutes: the city is attacked, destroyed, engulfed in flames, the citizens are evacuated, and Ales, the little boy who saved you, is nowhere to be found. And of course, to make it difficult, you can’t just navigate through the city, and the mini map is no help. either. You end up wandering around the exterior, through unintuitive areas, battling roaming Animon, until you finally take the long way around to the city’s plaza, where you face off with the Animon that attacked the city. It took me about seven tries to clear that boss, and the seventh attempt only happened after grinding the six-or-so small-town Animon that appeared on the way to the plaza. Over. And. Over. The scaling felt off. The bosses have multiple health bars that you have to slice and dice your way through, and while I’m not saying I want to be coddled, it shouldn’t take seven attempts to beat the initial boss. As for the battle system itself, it’s a pretty standard turn-based system, with the turn cycle clearly displayed so you can plan ahead. You can battle with up to four Animon (at least from what I experienced in the eyeblink of playtime I had), but boss Animon are insanely strong, which made the difficulty spikes feel more frustrating than satisfying. I really wish I could speak more about the game. I really wish I had more to say. If I had to rate what I played in isolation, I’d give it a strong 7 out of 10, because the idea is sound, and the world is there. But holistically, with my very specific experience, it’s a solid unplayable out of 10. What good is a world if it can’t be explored? I’ve let the game try to load this unloadable area since I started writing this review. Here I am 54 minutes later, and it’s still loading. *Editor's Note: We have reached out to the publisher regarding this bug and have not yet received a response. If any details are provided to us about its prevalence or its being addressed, we will add an additional note to the review. Verdict Image Credits: JetsonPlaysGames via Team17 Disclaimer: We received a review copy of this title from the publisher.

Genres are all kinda made up, aren’t they? Where genre norms delineated the FPS from the RPG in the past, games now borrow aspects from many different genres, creating a veritable smorgasbord of ideas and systems that yield experiences not so easily defined. When new norms are established, so much is made of which genres a game falls under. Is it a Soulslike? Could your game be a Shmup, or is it a bullet hell? What even is an open-world game, anyway? For Gravity’s Edge, “Metroidvania” seems to be the one that will stick. This makes a certain amount of sense, as progression within the game is what one would typically expect from other games given the same moniker; Gravity’s Edge features a large, interconnected, and nonlinear map, and forward progress in one direction is often gated behind the retrieval of some equipment or unlock gathered elsewhere. But I also feel that doesn't fully encapsulate what Gravity’s Edge is. Game: Gravity's Edge Publisher: Kassle Games LLC Developer: Kassle Games LLC Availability: Released May 6, 2026 for Steam. The premise of the game is simple enough: players take control of a spacefarer looking to reunite with their father, who has disappeared during their travels as a Kassler. What exactly being a Kassler entails is a bit nebulous, but they are essentially a force of explorers, researchers, and enforcers currently preoccupied with the looming threat of an alien invasion of sorts. The player character must then become a Kassler themselves, traverse the various planets, and solve puzzles to uncover the truth behind ongoing events. Doing so is a bit of a mixed bag. Upon loading up the game, there are a few notable issues and annoyances I encountered. For starters, there is no resolution option within the menus. I am assuming the default is 1080p, but neither of my monitors display this resolution, and there seems to be no way to fullscreen the game, either. Additionally, navigating the menus is a hassle on controller, as there is no dedicated cancel/exit button, so players must manually move over to the “BACK” option to exit any submenu. On the flip side, once you start up the game, the actual visual style is quite captivating, with a gorgeous comic book-esque design permeating the screen. When you speak to the other characters, they each have their own personalities and speak in a Caribbean-style dialect, adding a little flavor to the afro-futurist setting the game takes place within. I think it would be fair to see my visage and assume I know little about these topics, and you’d be right. The Akan symbology holds no meaning for me, and the Jamaican patois is not a cultural touchstone of any sort for my family—but it will be for someone. There is an obvious love and care put into Gravity’s Edge by the small team behind it. The influences used to craft it, and the design philosophies behind much of the game’s workings, are laid bare just as much in the dialogue and visuals of the game as they were explained by Kamau Vassal in our interview last week. So while I can't connect with these aspects of the game, they clearly mean something to the team behind it, and someone out there will be able to connect with it, too. For the right person, these cultural touchstones will remind them of aunties and uncles in their youth, or a dear friend who they no longer see. It will be a moment of reflection on cultures, histories, and shared dreams. But I am not that person, and all I have is the game I am playing. In that sense, Gravity’s Edge does not wow me, but I am similarly not in any way offended or discouraged by it. Traversal across the physics-based playground is a bit too slow for my liking, and I found myself occasionally frustrated by the character's trajectory when attempting to jump off-planet from time to time. While the realism of gravitational pull is an interesting thought, in practice, it makes navigation quite tedious. This issue is compounded by the lack of directional visibility—you’re often jumping blindly into a new space without being able to fully see what lies ahead. A single misstep means additional time backtracking and trying to make your way through those same zones, which is made further tiresome given the inherent backtracking and exploration necessary due to its gated progress approach. For the right person, these cultural touchstones will remind them of aunties and uncles in their youth, or a dear friend who they no longer see. It will be a moment of reflection on cultures, histories, and shared dreams. Outside of the platforming, there are some shooting elements, as well, with players having a weapon that shoots toward the character’s zenith, and another that fires somewhat horizontally from the character model. The horizontal-firing gun is basically the bane of my existence and is the major source of many of my frustrations with the game. When you fire this gun, it travels immediately horizontally to the player before somewhat looping around the planet and being brought back down to the ground via gravity’s pull. The trajectory means that the only enemies you can hit need to be directly in front of you, or on the exact opposite end of any given planet. Playing close to enemies is asking to get hit, especially when they take several shots to kill, and the slow movement speed makes lining up that looping shot much more difficult when a foe is chasing you. It is often much preferred to just avoid enemy contact, running and jumping from planet to planet toward whatever destination you have set in your mind. Unfortunately, this is also troubled by the lack of any real signposting. Many of the planets look so much alike that navigation requires constant map reference. Locations of objects and points of interest are not marked on this map, but the player does have the ability to set waypoints themselves. That said, the actual progression feels a bit rudderless at times, and I spent much of the game just going places without any real thought to what I was looking for — I didn't really know what I was supposed to be looking for. There are also moments where the game transitions to a scene showing events taking place elsewhere. However, the player character is still vulnerable to damage in these moments, and enemies can move around and attack you during them. Despite this, I remained charmed by the game in many ways. The celestial phenomena are interesting to interact with, the seven different endings are something to work toward uncovering, and the art, music, and general vibe of the game at least kept me hanging on. I was also pleasantly surprised at how few true bugs I encountered. In fact, the only one I ever encountered was during the ending of the game, where a part of the image was duplicated on screen a few times, seemingly unintentionally. Ultimately, Gravity’s Edge is a cool little game full of big ideas that it never quite meets mechanically, but it does capture the spirit of community and adventure in its 2-hour runtime on a single playthrough. I like and dislike so many aspects of the game in equal measure, making my overarching thoughts on the game feel mixed and muddied. I really wish I could have moved a bit faster or controlled my aiming a bit better. I wish that these things didn't bother me as much as they do, so that I could appreciate the care and beauty put into the game in front of me more thoroughly.

Gravity’s Edge was a nice little surprise for me. Prior to this last week, it had not been on my radar whatsoever. I had not seen it on any release lists, nor did I come across any discussion of the title on any message boards or subreddits. Such is the life of an indie game in the bustling Steam release schedule. Over 21,000 games were put out on Steam last year—a number that is growing in each consecutive trip around the sun. How is a small studio like Kassle Games LLC meant to find an audience? I’m not sure I could ever hope to answer that, but when the team behind the game reached out, the comic book-esque artstyle and interesting premise piqued my interest. But what is Gravity’s Edge? Yes, it is an upcoming indie 2D action-adventure game, certainly, but what about the team behind it? What is Gravity’s Edge to them? To find out, I spoke with developer Kamau Vassall ahead of the game's release. Game: Gravity's Edge Publisher: Kassle Games LLC Developer: Kassle Games LLC Availability: Released May 6, 2026 for Steam. Like most people, Kamau got his start in games early, finding inspiration and purpose in the medium as a child. “...I've been obsessed with videogames ever since I was a little kid,” he told us “I have fond memories of playing Mario upside down as an 8-year-old.” I’m sure many can relate to playing games, but not many have epiphanies this early on as Kamau did. “When I was 11 or so, after playing Command & Conquer, I decided that this was the medium that was going to change everything.” Something about Command & Conquer spoke to him, inspired him. It made him feel like there could be more to games than running and jumping. “It changed my perspective on what a game was. I had never played an RTS (Real Time Strategy) beforehand, nor had I seen a game with real actors, nor had I ever played a game with two factions on separate CDs, nor one with multiple branching paths of story. To be honest, I was absolutely mind-blown by even reading the game manual!” Of course, 11 is a little early to get into game development, especially alone, but the seed was planted—one day, he would make games of his own. Perhaps surprisingly, games weren’t Kamau’s first love—science was. “I’ve always had [a love of science]. It could be the science museum as a kid. It could be that I watched way too much Star Trek with my Dad. But let's just say I’ve listened to every episode of Star Talk with Neil DeGrasse Tyson.” And so combining these elements seemed natural. Taking inspiration from titles like Braid, Kamau worked to make games of his own, including Fight for Phoenix, a game where you are tasked to defend the planet from incoming ships. It was this game that further inspired Kamau to begin work on Gravity’s Edge. “I kept wondering what a cool way to go to the next level would be. And then one night it dawned on me, ‘What if you could just jump to the next level?’” Kamau worked to incorporate his love of physics and space into the work he did, but he also put some of himself in the game, as artists are wont to do. Being such a big science fiction fan offers examples to reference, and his Caribbean heritage was a great place to draw inspiration from—including the presence of Jamaican patois and Akan symbology within the full release. “Shows like The Expanse have Caribbean accents. In the show Firefly, they drop Chinese from time to time,” he told us “I am of Caribbean descent. So basically, I’m just making what I know. I didn’t think too much about it. The same goes for the Akan symbology.” To help realize his vision for this new title, Kamau would need some help, including enlisting artist Sam McCollum to develop the look for the game. “About 6 months in, I wanted to partner up with a friend [with whom] I had previously jammed,” he continued, “I knew his line art style would be perfect as I tend to prefer that over pixel art styles. Additionally, he makes all his art with a tinge of retro! The stars aligned as they say!” But even with some help, game development has its own unique challenges. Speaking about his decision to incorporate real-world physics into the game, he had this to say: “Real-world physics is not fun,” noting the difficulties of implementation, “in early playtests of my game, the player might fly off-world and float forever!” As [Gravity’s Edge] is not a simulation game by any means, some compromises had to be made for the sake of the gameplay. “Real physics has too much chaos, entropy, and randomness for you to design good experiences around.” Of course, game development difficulties can often extend beyond the act of making the game itself—a fact that Kamau is all too familiar with. Marketing is often a massive part of a big title’s budget, with major releases vying for eyeballs the same as every other game on the market. While AAA companies can spend their way onto your screens, the fight for acknowledgement is much more difficult for indie developers. “All my self-published games suffer from the same problem. I’ll meet someone in the elevator who perfectly fits the target audience of one of my games and I’ll ask them if they’ve heard of it. It's always no!” It can be hard to know with any sort of certainty if the game you’ve made will reach people. Even if you’ve put something together that you’re proud of, what aspects of the design work or don't work can be hard to envision without third-party input. Without the funds to hire proper playtesting, small teams often rely on close relations and friends to give honest assessments, which can be difficult to navigate. “Programming is easy; half the time, the compiler will just tell you exactly what you did wrong. But when it comes to design? Your friends will white lie in order to be nice to you and tell you that your game will sell a million copies.” All my self-published games suffer from the same problem. I’ll meet someone in the elevator who perfectly fits the target audience of one of my games and I’ll ask them if they’ve heard of it. It's always no! That’s the dream, right? To see your work enjoyed by millions of people, to make something you can be proud of, and that supports you financially. While you never know what the reception will be for a game, Kamau thinks they have something special. “I would love everyone to know that I made this game to bring something new to the world that has never been seen before. This game admires physics, space, puzzles, exploration, and culture!” Speaking on the game’s features, he notes, “This game has leaderboards, Twitch integration, split-screen couch co-op. This game has replay value, easter eggs, pets, achievements, 7 different endings in Story, and a secret ending in Survival!” There’s a demo out for Gravity’s Edge, allowing players to take the game for a test spin before release. The full game releases on Steam on May 5, 2026.

A hop, skip, and a fall through the floor away. I have a certain fondness for platformers, even if they’ve mostly fallen out of favor in the general gaming landscape. I suppose that can be attributed to nostalgia, at least in part. Platformers made up a huge portion of my gaming diet as a child, with titles like DuckTales and the various Super Mario games being counted among the most played. Still, by the time I got my first PlayStation, I had largely moved on to RPGs and fighting games as my primary gaming focus, leaving platformers behind. Dracamar is intended to capture the spirit of the 90’s era platformers more than any other period, drawing inspiration from the likes of Spyro and Crash Bandicoot—games I have little affinity for but have played. It's an aim that Dracamar seems to meet, with a similar aesthetic and a level of quality that is at least comparable to those early PS1 platformers. Publisher: Petoons Studio Developer: Petoons Studio, 3Cat Platform: Played on PC Availability: Released April 30, 2026 for PC, PlayStation 4 (PS4), PlayStation 5 (PS5), Xbox One, Xbox Series X/S, and Nintendo Switch. There’s not much in the way of exposition or backstory to be concerned about when starting Dracamar; King Crad, a dragon-like guy flying around on a throne, has captured a flower named Coroki and is using her power to change the cute little Okis into Mokis, which are just Okis with a frown and a slightly purple tinting. That is the extent of the story we’re given at the start, with no explanation of who any of the playable characters are outside of their names. After a brief introductory scene, players are thrown into a menu to select their character and then thrust right onto the world map to start the first level, which does a great job of tutorializing the mechanics through play. It doesn’t stop you every five seconds to explain the mechanics through text; instead, it guides you through each marking and indication as you go, easing you into the ever-so-slightly more advanced combinations and concepts that will appear later on. I did wonder if having more of a cohesive story and world would make the game a bit more enticing from the outset, but NPC interactions had me second-guessing. Frankly, the translation could use some work, as the dialogue is quite stilted and devoid of any real personality; every line is a simple declarative sentence or short question, and they often don't flow naturally together. This awkwardness is compounded by the suspect voice work, which frequently does not perfectly align with the written text. The story itself and all character dialogue, motivations, etc., are one-note, with no real stakes or drive to engage other than the simple fact that you want to play the game. NPCs have nothing valuable or noteworthy to say or do—they may as well not exist. If you need a story or interesting characters to liven up a game, the ones here won’t cut it. Straightforward levels and clean, simple character designs lend Dracamar charm. On the flip side, navigating the worlds and completing the extremely simplistic puzzles works well in most instances. All of the platforms and interactable objects are clearly visible, with indicators or markings that help denote what a player should do to interact with them. For example, if you see a wall with a giant yellow “X” on it, you know that you must punch it to break through. This simplistic design eliminates any need for experimentation or thinking in completing its platforming, but the upside is that the game is simple enough on the whole for very young children. In fact, as I was playing, my four-year-old son asked to play the game because he really liked the way it looked, and he had very few problems getting through the first level and even some of the second. I have no doubt that most of this game is playable by children of a young age, and I think that is commendable and valuable. We really do need more quality games for children to dive into; games that are good and that children can meaningfully interact with, not just games for kids that they need to suffer through because there are no good options. There's more to the game than jumping; there are plenty of on-rails segments and other unique mechanics throughout. To that end, Dracamar’s design is well-constructed. Even the numerous collectible items are all quite easy to spot and gather in most cases, with the majority visible from the main path or just off to the side on a small road or platforming segment that loops back around to the main route. As a sort of introductory platformer, it nails all of the basics you’d want to showcase: jumping on platforms, hitting enemies, avoiding danger zones, timing your actions, and gathering collectibles. The game’s description on all platforms notes that it is a “cozy” 3D platformer — an apt description for the generally breezy jaunt that the game amounts to. There are very few moments of friction at all, especially for an adult player, but the colorful world and cute artstyle at least keep things pleasant to look at. Dracamar doesn't overstay its welcome, either — at least not in totality. There are only 15 levels, and playing through them all and getting every collectible will likely land you under 10 hours of play, but some of the levels do feel like they drag on a bit, especially if you have to replay them for any reason. As a sort of introductory platformer, it nails all of the basics you’d want to showcase: jumping on platforms, hitting enemies, avoiding danger zones, timing your actions, and gathering collectibles. Unfortunately, I did have to replay levels a few times due to technical issues and menu selections. While the occasional glitch through a floor or platform is mostly a minor annoyance, there were more damaging glitches, like getting trapped out of bounds and entire levels disappearing from view. The only way to correct these is to restart the level, and doing so brings you back to the very beginning, with no way to warp between checkpoints. Given that each level can run upwards of 30 minutes or more if you’re doing a completionist run, this is hugely detrimental. Compounding on this are the menu options for starting over. First is “Restart” level, which brings you back to the beginning of a level, with the second being “Exit Level”, bringing you back to the world map. Seems simple enough, but clicking “Restart” completely erases your level progress, removing all collectibles you’ve gathered thus far. Exit level will retain your progress, but you’ll still need to start over. I’m really uncertain as to why the restart option exists if it does not retain your progress. It theoretically allows you to jump back into the level quicker than the other option, but seeing as you lose progress, it actually makes things take much longer since you’ll need to gather all collectibles once more. It's the type of mistake you only make once, but it should not be possible to do. When the game works, it is simple, charming, smooth — the type of platforming experience you’d love to show your kid or play yourself absentmindedly if you just need a way to unwind. Unfortunately, those persistent bugs drag things down quite a bit. I would say that at least 50% of the levels I played required a hard restart due to getting stuck somewhere or because of broken interactions. And while the game can be completed, it does amount to a massive frustration. In that sense, Dracamar is quite like 90s-era platformers, though not in the way they had hoped. It was an era filled with genuinely great conceits, but many of the games suffer from one or two major hiccups that separate them from the great platformers of the era. You’ll find Dracamar in comparable waters, with good ideas dragged down to the bottom of the sea by its technical ills more than any other individual aspect. Verdict Dracamar is an exceedingly simple platformer, with mostly straightforward platforming and level design that holds very few surprises. This simple design is an excellent starting point for children, as the mechanics are not needlessly complex or obtuse, but offers little for adult players beyond mindless time-passing. That said, despite all of its charm and overwhelming cuteness, Dracamar suffers from some egregious bugs and becomes a tedious task to fully complete in the face of them. I can see an earnest effort has been made here, and there are shades of something neat, but the technical hurdles are a bridge too far. Image Credits: Disclosure: We received a free copy of this game from the publisher.

We should be funding our libraries. The market has been flooded with Metroidvanias over the last decade or so, making the separation between the great, the good, and the banal all the more meaningful. Of all the genres for Compile Heart to jump into, this is certainly one of the most surprising, as the domain of their titles has largely fallen under the umbrella of middling RPG, with the Neptunia and Fairy Fencer series making up the bulk of their releases. Publisher: Idea Factory International Developer: Idea Factory, Compile Heart, HYDE, Inc. Platform: Played on PC Availability: Released March 24, 2026 for Nintendo Switch, PS4, PS5; April 29, 2026, for PC. It is no surprise, then, that Ariana and the Elder Codex does not necessarily aim to redefine the structural foundations of its genre but instead focuses on delivering a polished, stylized take on it. By injecting Compile Heart's typical anime style into a genre overflowing with games featuring a dark, brooding aesthetic, Ariana can at least be counted among the few titles with a bright visage. It does succeed in that regard. Even at just a first glance, Ariana is a gorgeous-looking game. The backgrounds and environments within the codices are lovely, painterly vistas, and the character portraits are equally stunning; even the menus look great, with a ton of style added to each element within. It is clear that a massive amount of attention has gone into making this project look great, though it does fall a bit flat with enemy designs and on-the-field character models. The narrative premise is simple, placing players in the role of Ariana, the librarian of The Library. It is unclear if this is the only “library” in the world, or if others do exist, what names they might use for the space. Is this the only place that has books? Who knows! Within this sanctuary sits the Seven Hero Codices, a collection of volumes crafted to provide magic to the people of the world. When a mysterious entity corrupts these books, Ariana must repair them—she is the only person capable of doing so, after all. Each book serves as a distinct biome with its own navigation trials and environments—though the distinctions between each are mostly visual, with few differences aside from what ability you need to use to reach the platforms. With seven codices to repair, it is a tall task, though no single codex stays overly long to extend the journey. While the overarching plot doesn't quite land as anything more than an afterthought, with the few twists easily seen coming from the opening moments of the game, it is serviceable, or at least not outright offensive. Thankfully, each codex has a self-contained story—vignettes that fill out the world in more interesting ways than the main cast ever dares to. At the end of each codex, players are read the story they have repaired, which is a nice little touch, but does come off as a tad redundant. Where the game finds its best rhythm is in its combat and movement systems, with some major caveats. Ariana moves fluidly, and the combat is built around a unique magic system where players equip two sets of three spells across four different elements. Because using a spell from a specific element—like fire or water—places all other spells of that same element on a shared cooldown, it is more optimal to diversify the elements used. Where the game finds its best rhythm is in its combat and movement systems, with some major caveats. Hitting enemies with a flurry of spells in rapid succession causes waves of explosions due to elemental buildup and completely wipes out crowds nearly instantaneously. It can be fun to see this happen, but it does make navigation through the pages a bit boring. What is the purpose of these combat encounters when they end so immediately? Against bosses, there is a bit more of an opportunity to give an honest effort, but none of the bosses could survive more than 30 seconds on Hard, except the final boss. The game is just pitifully easy, which is a damn shame given how fluid and free mixing the spells can be. The exploration follows the traditional flow but adds a layer of performance-based progression that encourages backtracking via challenges and treasure chests that are meant to be inaccessible before getting most of Ariana’s traversal skills. Of course, with some diligence and timing, nearly all of these can be obtained on first arrival, with very few exceptions. To fully repair a book, Ariana must close various rifts, which manifest either as timed combat gauntlets or platforming races to a specific point on the map. The game grades your performance on these tasks, and achieving an "A" rank provides permanent boosts to your base stats, as well as currency for upgrades and gear. Unfortunately, both the exploration and combat suffer from occasionally unresponsive controls and dropped inputs. Platforming in the more difficult sections is a bit of a nightmare because of it, with jump inputs just being lost from time to time. In combat, switching over to the second set of abilities requires holding down R2, but this too gets lost, causing the wrong move to come out or none at all if the face button is on cooldown. This input failure mars aspects I would otherwise see as a highlight and became insufferable in the final zone, forcing me into different strategies with my spell use and playstyle for the final boss. Ariana and the Elder Codex is noticeably small in scope, running just over a dozen or so hours long. While the combat and platforming are competent enough to keep you playing, they can’t quite distract from the technical hurdles and the fact that you’re fighting the same handful of enemies on repeat. It’s a decent enough attempt at the metroidvania genre, but it feels more like a pleasant distraction than a must-play masterpiece. Verdict Ariana and the Elder Codex is assuredly Compile Heart's best work, at least among the titles I have played. The writing is serviceable, even if trite, and it has a lovely artistic lean in its visuals. Yet it fails to truly excite in any meaningful way. There isn't a single thing outside of its look that it excels at, with even its high points (combat and exploration) being weighed down by technical issues. Image Credits: Idea Factory Disclaimer: We received a free copy of this game from the publisher.

Pretty Gouda MOUSE: P.I. For Hire is a refreshingly artistic action FPS. First-time Polish developer Fumi Games really set itself apart with a charming black-and-white rubber hose hand-drawn art style. This, combined with boomer shooter gameplay, proves that even classic genres still have room for unique ideas and innovation. Publisher: PlaySide Developer: Fumi Games Platform: Played on PC Availability: Released April 16, 2026, for PC, PS5, and Xbox Series X/S. Shooting is surprisingly fast-paced with open combat areas to dash and jump around, only allowing for slow, controlled aiming when few minor enemies are around. Weapons feel responsive and reliable, although after multiple upgrades, the damage done did not feel noticeably increased. Upgrades also improve accuracy, magazine size, and unlock an alternate firing mode, which all add a stronger feeling of progression. Enemy variety is diverse enough that fights can mix and match enemies to not feel repetitive, and on top of that, also have unique units for each faction, giving them each a distinct feel. The term boomer shooter is not what I would have thought best to describe the playstyle of a rubber hose noir set in the 1930s. And yet, the parallel theme between the two caught me by surprise. Both focus on a single character, fighting against the odds to reach their goals. Mettle, grit, determination, and sometimes luck are the keys to success for both. You play as Jack Pepper, a P.I. for hire who finds himself at the center of disappearances, corruption, and murder. Hopefully there are enough thumbtacks and string to connect it all. The supporting cast helping with your investigation is a diverse cast of characters. Typical introductions are rare, as Jack has seemingly been at this a while, enforcing his experience through the variety of contacts, along with the overly casual conversational tone. The writing is solid, although expectedly cheesy. Troy Baker delivers a great performance as the classic, although less down on his luck than usual, gumshoe. The rubberhose aesthetic does carry much of the game's charm. The black-and-white aesthetic is core to the atmosphere and art style; its beautiful 3D environments at times look straight out of a cartoon or professional real-world recreation in a theme park, and the music perfectly emphasizes each area’s theme and tone. Characters are bouncy and replicate the rubber hose aesthetic well, even as the enemy deaths are in the vein of typical FPS violence. The main drawback that is, unfortunately, at the forefront of every interaction is how bad the lip flaps are. Lower-budget or dialogue-heavy games might go with switching between key poses to show emotion or emphasis, or have a basic, short looping animation of the character opening and closing their mouth. Both are simple, but are more than enough to get the job done. The opposite end of the budget and effort spectrum is fully matching a character's animation with dialogue. Mouse: P.I. For Hire has found a weird middle ground that really distracts me during dialogue scenes. When talking to a character, a talking animation seems to be chosen at random and can repeat an unlimited number of times. One interaction consisted of the character I was talking to never opening their mouth, choosing instead to jitter around with a clenched jaw as if stuck on a consonant. What seems to purposefully match the dialogue is when characters strike a pose for emphasis, but even that has a bizarrely short duration. Having the game’s dialogue set to automatically advance, these poses last for less than a second. The characters are designed and drawn so well, so this choice feels bizarre and nonsensical to the point that I hope it is caused by a bug or changes in the near future, so as to not distract from everything the game has going for it. Performance overall has been great, with a few bugs and hiccups during my playtime. Broken cars playing engine sounds, jarring audio static when moving the weapon wheel or setting sliders, enemies getting stuck, and once having to restart when no enemies spawned, leaving the exit door locked. The save points are shockingly frequent, as if to replace an auto-save system, although the game does also auto-save. One definite gripe is not being able to go back to any previous levels — all collectibles and items have one chance to be found. MOUSE: P.I. For Hire stands out with its striking rubber hose art style and energetic FPS gameplay, proving classic formulas can still feel fresh. Combat is fast and satisfying, supported by a strong atmosphere, music, and voice acting. However, distracting lip-sync issues and minor bugs occasionally interrupt immersion. Despite these flaws, it’s a memorable and creative experience from a new developer team worth keeping an eye on. Verdict MOUSE: P.I. For Hire is a stylish and surprisingly fast-paced FPS that leans hard into its rubber hose noir identity while still delivering solid, movement-driven combat. The presentation, music, and voice work carry much of the experience, even when upgrades feel underwhelming. Unfortunately, awkward lip-sync and occasional bugs do interrupt the pacing, but there’s plenty of originality here to make it stand out despite these minor issues. Image Credits: PlaySide Disclaimer: We received a free copy of this game from the publisher.

What is the value of doing hard things? I suppose in some sense it grants us (or perhaps tests) our resilience, showing us that we can do difficult things and survive. This is surely valuable in a broader sense of life, but I’m not certain it means much when talking about art. Some may argue that hardship is more about the sense of accomplishment we feel when a task is brought to completion; that the only means by which we can satiate our pride is through struggle. Or is it more important that we use these challenges to improve our skills and build confidence? While there may be no single answer, I feel like I have done a hard thing by playing ChainStaff. This is admittedly less because Chainstaff is inherently more difficult than many games I’ve played in the past, and more because it is a genre I so rarely play. Publisher: Mommy’s Best Games Developer: Mommy’s Best Games Platform: Played on PC Availability: Released April 8, 2026 for PC, PS4/5, Nintendo Switch, Switch 2, and Xbox Series X/S. There were no arcades where I lived when I was young; the only cabinets to be found were held at the resorts by the lake, at a local hotel, and most importantly, at the hockey arena across the street. None of the cabinets out at the resorts or at the local pool had the sort of 2D side-scrolling shooters that ChainStaff so deftly emulates. Instead, we got games like Tekken 2, The Punisher, and The Simpsons — this may explain my affinity for the Beat ‘em Up genre more than I realized. But the local rink did have one such game: Metal Slug. I think it’s important to note that I sucked at these games then, too. I didn’t just lose my ability to navigate the sort of run-and-gun gameplay that Metal Slug and ChainStaff employ — I never had it. I don’t know how far I got on that old game, but I imagine it wasn't very far at all, given my poor handling and light pockets. ChainStaff started out similarly for me. I haven’t played many Run’N’Gun games in my adult years, and I’ve finished exactly zero, so my first few hours with ChainStaff were quite a trial, with death after death via slow-moving alien projectiles. But I persevered. I persevered not because I thought I was becoming stronger, or to train my skills for other times I might play a game in the genre, but I persevered because I was having fun. ChainStaff utilizes an expressive, prog-rock cover-esque visual style to capture the action. There’s something immediately endearing about the way ChainStaff wastes no time in filling the speakers with its heavy metal soundtrack. It wears its inspirations on its sleeve visually, too, with an aesthetic that recalls the progressive rock covers of the 70s and 80s — like a mash of the art of Kim Poor and H.R. Giger brought to life. These elements mesh well with the fast-paced action of each level, keeping every new enemy and stage fresh as Sergeant Jesse Varlette cuts a path through the gauntlet of alien foes, leaving only their bodies in his wake. Using the titular ChainStaff, players can swing through the levels by latching onto terrain and foes alike, or they can charge it to launch it into enemies for damage and to create a platform to stand on. This charged form also doubles as cover from enemy attacks, providing shelter when the terrain won't cut it. There’s plenty of room for player expression here, as well. While players always have their gun and the eponymous ChainStaff, gun upgrades allow for additional effects when shooting, like homing missiles or slow-moving rockets. The options are not endless, but there’s room to customize how players approach the combat. That goes for the ChainStaff as well, with the ability to hang onto walls, create cover, or use it offensively. Most encounters don’t require any specific strategy when dealing with foes, so players can really approach each in any way they like. It wears its inspirations on its sleeve visually, too, with an aesthetic that recalls the progressive rock covers of the 70s and 80s — like a mash of the art of Kim Poor and H.R. Giger brought to life. This is less true of the boss fights, which push players toward employing specific, more effective strategies for each, but there’s still wiggle room in the approach employed. There were times when I opted to hang from the ceiling or walls when simply putting up a barrier would have done just as well. Part of the process of learning how to play the game came from recognizing when those strategies were best employed and not being so afraid to try them out. That said, those opening levels felt brutal. Not just in the sense that I had difficulty adjusting to the mechanics of the game, though that was true, but from a visual and auditory perspective. Despite the levity with which the story and conversations are handled, the spectacle of the levels is one of blood, and guts, and gore. Throwing the ChainStaff into an enemy welcomes a geyser of blood, and the sort of squelching and crunching noises beckoned forth when that projectile connects with an alien carapace is laughably grotesque. The juxtaposition of these levels with characters like Papa Choppa, a pilot with mutton chops who picks Sergeant Varlett up at the end of each level while wearing a pink cowboy hat and bathrobe, further feeds into the absurdity of it all. Despite these oddities and seemingly incongruous elements, I consider ChainStaff a resounding success. It has a strong art direction, a fantastic soundtrack, and a perfectly eclectic cast of characters. The way it blends its frantic combat with engaging platforming is inventive, offering players separate pathways that allow for further exploration and engagement. It was all so charming — a testament to the love and care that went into crafting it. And while those opening moments were hard going, the game wasn't much trouble as I became accustomed to the controls. I developed a comfort with the timing of swinging from the branches and became more cognizant of the multi-directional threats that accosted me. In sticking with it, I feel like I found an answer for this single hardship. It wasn’t about resilience, or pride, or relief — it was about joy. The joy of doing. The joy of engaging with a work of art on its own terms, regardless of my own comfort level and familiarity. It was, at its core, an endeavor in finding that joy in something I may never have tried outside of the bounds of this profession, and for that I am grateful. Verdict ChainStaff has a strong art direction, a fantastic soundtrack, and a perfectly eclectic cast of characters. The story is light-hearted, but the action is intense, with Sergeant Varlett blasting his way through numerous foes in a fashion that is both exciting and sometimes grotesque. The game is the total package, blending its visuals, audio, and gameplay to create a chimeric experience that sticks the landing. Image Credits: Mommy's Best Games Disclaimer: We received a copy of this game from the publisher.

Love is in the Air. When we first moved into our house, it wasn’t perfect. The deck needed some work, we had to replace the sink and install a new filter, and the walls had small blemishes and areas of peeling paint. It wasn’t perfect, but it was home. As a stay-at-home dad, my days were mostly spent finding new and interesting ways to keep my then 2-year-old toddler entertained. One thing that was apparent was just how much he loved to draw and paint. Pages and pages of paper with eccentric and wild scribblings filled our floors and covered our furniture. But every time I’d step away for a moment, I’d come back to find those uncontrolled doodles had found their way onto our walls. While the markers and paints were all “washable”, the specters of their existence remained — faint pigment that could never truly be erased. It was here that my wife and I had a decision to make. Do we try to stop the behavior, continuously cleaning the marker in perpetuity, or do we find a way to make it work for him and us? I won’t try to extol the virtues of letting your child draw on the walls. I’m not certain the message we sent in those early days works for everyone, but as our walls were already imperfect, I found little reason to hold their appearance in high esteem in the first place. After all, we were just going to paint over it anyway. So we drew upon those walls together. What started as small scribbles turned into shapes and spirals, which then became smiley faces and stick figure bodies. These days, our walls are also home to treasure maps and shaky letters that spell out a mixture of real words and nonsense, invented language. The walls of our home have become a living document to his growth and our lives here together. Publisher:   Red Art Games Developer:  Square Enix, Bullets Platform:  Played on Nintendo Switch Availability: Released December 9, 2025 on PS4/5 and Nintendo Switch. In many ways, the past relationship between Square Enix and its development teams felt much like that of my son and me. These teams were given the freedom to experiment, to draw on the walls, to find new, creative, and inventive ways to tell the stories the way they wanted. It didn’t always work, of course. Plenty of titles underperformed expectations, or didn’t capture players in a way that would lead to everlasting fealty. But what it did do was let these teams grow, find their voice, and make art .  Romancing SaGa -Minstrel Song- Remastered International  is one such game. It’s experimental and obtuse in ways that most games (especially Square Enix games) simply aren’t  anymore. While most RPGs are linear stories told over the course of sequential, increasingly dire events, Romancing SaGa -Minstrel Song-  takes a more open approach to its structure. To begin, you’ll choose one of eight playable characters to begin your journey, with each character having their own unique introductory quests to work through before the world opens up. And boy does it open. Quests and quest givers aren’t explicitly marked on the map, and what you’re “supposed” to do is never really intimated to the player. Instead, you’re meant to find your own way, talking to people, picking up quests and party members, and making choices in the sequence of your own making. For someone who has never played a SaGa game, this structure was both surprising and a bit daunting. As you fight, a little dial advances in the menu that essentially denotes how much time you’re taking in-game to complete your quests. Quest availability is dependent upon this ranking, with many quests only available within a certain range or after having completed other quests beforehand. Quests are entirely missable, characters who could join your party may never become available, and items or equipment that you want may never show up — all of this is dependent upon your own actions and path through the world of Mardias. Eventually, all paths lead to the final face-off against the game’s antagonist, but how you get there — and who you get there with — is unique to each person.  Romancing SaGa -Minstrel Song- is an absurdly vibrant game. That freeform and underexplained structure extends beyond just the quests. The battle mechanics and strategies one might employ are very lightly explained, at best, with many only making themselves known in tutorial form after you’ve performed them or discovered them in the course of a fight. And the combat is fascinatingly deep and complex. There are a large number of varying classes, each with different strengths and weaknesses that really only reveal themselves as a product of your character's stat progression or ability availability. These abilities are learned by random happenstance in fights, and depend on what weapon or ability you are using, and which mode your weapon is in. Weapons do different damage depending upon what row your character is in, abilities take different amounts of BP depending upon class, and so on. There’s too much going on to adequately explain here, but the point is that it is impossibly open and complex, yet they do not tell you much of anything about it at all. You learn it by doing.  And I love it. Every aspect of Romancing SaGa -Minstrel Song-  is left for the player to engage with naturally and discover. This structure doesn’t really lend itself well to telling involved or completely fleshed-out storylines — something the developers seemed to have understood, as they did not really attempt to. That isn’t to say the game is devoid of a story or meaning. Rather, the journey is what you make of it. I can’t help but reminisce about the days of playing tabletop RPGs like Dungeons and Dragons. In tabletop games, even when there is a story or throughline to follow, the adventure is always more about what you and your party create together. By working in tandem and interacting with one another, and through collaboration with your DM, you craft your own singular saga. In a similar sense, Romancing SaGa -Minstrel Song-  is a collaborative tale, a tapestry woven together through the collective efforts of the players and the developers. This is contrasted heavily by Square’s more paint-by-numbers modern approach to games. They have shifted to an almost exclusive adherence to traditional narrative structures and safe bets. Everything in a game is pointing you to your next objective or giving you tips on how you can complete a task. There is value in telling a straightforward story, and many Square titles over the last few years have turned out quite good under those constraints. As a remaster of an older title, Romancing SaGa -Minstrel Song-  is not completely free of those chains, either. New additions like an adjustable game speed toggle and a more robust New Game+ smooth out, or otherwise alleviate, issues players had with the original entry. Every aspect of Romancing SaGa -Minstrel Song- is left for the player to engage with naturally and discover. But through playing Romancing SaGa -Minstrel Song- , I’ve come to miss how often they’d take big swings like this, even if they never panned out. Where they’d set the developers loose and let them play with player expectations, to make a game that does little to hold your hand and instead gives you a pat on the back. To play Romancing SaGa -Minstrel Song-  is to sit down with the developers of the game, to take their work of art, blemishes and all, and draw upon the walls together. Verdict Romancing SaGa -Minstrel Song- Remastered International  is a breathtaking RPG that offers a freedom seldom found in modern Square Enix titles. Its free-form structure and less-than-clear gameplay mechanics will inevitably lead to some confusion, but through playing it, you will create a journey that is uniquely yours. Image Credits: Red Art Games and Square Enix Disclosure: We received a free review copy of this product from the publisher.

A beautiful, but flawed, wonder. Into Free(dom) Dragon's Dogma 2 feels, in many respects, like a game on the edge. Capcom’s follow-up to 2012’s cult classic Dragon’s Dogma is a game that feels like it could teeter into a disaster-piece at any given moment, yet somehow retains enough focus and identity to squarely land on the stable side of the cliff. By design, the game has many points of friction baked into the gameplay experience — extremely limited fast travel, expensive economy (items, inns, equipment), diminishing health reserves, slow travel, dangerous fall damage, and more. And yet, I never felt like I was being punished in the way one might assume if they had only read about the game, rather than played it. Each one of these might look like a "flaw", but each is imperative in the flow of the game's core experience. The exploration might be a slow, methodical trek across a vast open world, but it's never boring. Every step brings something exciting around the bend — from packs of wolves who might drag you off to your doom, to hidden coves of treasure and beasts — there's a real sense of adventure and exploration here that is hard to find in a game today. It's not a survival game in the sense that you need to make shelter or manage a hunger meter, but it can sometimes feel like you're really fighting to survive a hostile wilderness as you roam. I sometimes found myself just hoping to find a campsite, or wondering if I should head back to town or keep pushing forward as the night approached. Publisher:  Capcom Developer:  Capcom Platform:  Played on PC Availability:  Released March 22, 2024 on PC, PS5, and Xbox Series S/X Frolicking in the fields of Vermund. To be frank, this game is quite easy past the early game. Beyond the first few hours, I never came close to dying. I took long trips for days and days in the wilds without stopping (mostly due to my compulsive need to explore every cave and cliff I came across). So while the points of friction I mentioned earlier might sound like it is going to make for a tough experience, I can assure you it is not a truly punishing game. And even if you do die, carrying a wakestone can revive you. If you don't have any wakestones on hand, you'll load from the most recent autosave, which the game does pretty frequently in my experience. Despite being a pretty normal experience difficulty-wise, the wilderness and night can still feel dangerous. I always took great care around high cliffs, especially as fall damage was the greatest threat to my health most often. Wandering through a cove. Nighttime, by the way, is really awesome! It's so dark that without a lantern, you can't see anything, really. And even with a lantern, your vision is pretty limited. Dangerous beasts lurk in the dark, and you can often stumble into an encounter you didn't see coming. I was once wandering through a forest, lantern in tow, when I suddenly heard a voice: "Arisen..." A faint light appeared in the darkness... that's a dragon. Moments like this are somewhat common, but they are always exciting. Minotaurs, chimeras, griffins, ogres, and more can ambush you, and it keeps night feeling dangerous, even if it never actually is. The primary mechanical focus of the game is combat, which is still excellent when compared to the first Dragon's Dogma . Really, there is not much difference between the two in the overarching way combat and exploration work — you and your pawn have a vocation (job) that levels up independently of your character level. This vocation determines your stats, abilities, damage types, and even the types of exploration available to you (mages can levitate and thieves can scale/jump off walls, for instance). You don't need to worry so much about what vocation you have equipped when you level up within Dragon's Dogma 2 — your stats will automatically adjust based on vocation according to your character level. The choices in the image above round out your vocation selection. With a total of 10 vocations available to you, there are a good number of options in terms of playstyles, and you're never locked into just one. Each vocation has unique skillsets, each with enough variety to craft a playstyle more suited to your own preferences within the confines of the vocation itself. The animation work done on all of the skills available to you makes combat so interesting and engaging, it never really gets boring — even when you’re fighting your 100th pack of goblins of the day. The fights remain exciting in large part because the enemies also have a lot of different behaviors and abilities. Goblins can throw rocks, spears, do lunging attacks, and more, all while running away in fear or using pack tactics. Wolves will hit and run, or grab you or your pawn and carry you off. And so on, and so on. The unending dynamism keeps things interesting no matter where you are or what class you are playing. Pawns, AI-controlled companions that follow, fight, and gather on your behalf, are a nice way to connect players without directly interfering with a player’s single-player world. You will be able to bring your main pawn (self-created and managed), and 2 pawns from the riftstones, which include both Capcom-provided pawns and the pawns other players have created. Pawns have a limited number of vocations available to them, but they are able to have specializations that grant them some abilities or behaviors otherwise unobtainable. Additionally, inclinations allow you to customize your pawn’s behavior more acutely. The AI is not perfect, but I think it is more than functional in terms of being a useful party member. If you played the first game, they function very similarly here. There are, of course, other minor mechanics and systems in play in the game that just don’t matter much. Romance and affection exist, but they are so underutilized and inconsequential that it’s not really worth diving in depth on them or considering them as a major part of the experience. However, if systems like that interest you, you should be aware that they exist in name only here. Gathered in town with the crew. Earlier, I mentioned how this feels like a game on the edge of being a great game, but that edge cuts both ways. For all of its wild successes and phenomenal gameplay, Dragon’s Dogma 2 falls short of being truly great. It is a game on the precipice of all-time greatness — greatness that, I feel, is pretty attainable if some minor adjustments are made in DLC or expansions. And while it is disappointing that it never quite reaches the highs I feel it could, there is hope it might in the future. My most identifiable complaints lie in two areas. First, enemy variety is disappointing. The enemies that are present in the game are a thrill, to be sure, but there are fewer types of enemies when compared to the first game, even when you count subtypes and offshoots (e.g., Hobgoblins vs Goblins). The game could really use a few more small enemy types, but would immensely benefit from additional large or huge enemy varieties. Large enemies introduce a fun, dynamic experience in each fight with their scalability, and having more you can climb, ride, or engage with would really liven up the experience in a significant way. Second, there are not enough quests, and the ones that exist can often feel uninteresting. A lot of fetch quests, monster culling, and escort quests, with very little variety beyond that. When you do get something more unique, it’s really a breath of fresh air. That isn’t to say things like monster battles or escorting shouldn’t be included in the larger structure of any additional quests, but quests could stand to be more diverse. The main questline is pretty barebones — both in variety and length. There just aren’t enough things to do in the game in a directed sense. This is most notable in the second major area of the game and late game, where the main story really just kind of ends without any buildup or resolution to some seemingly major questions about the world. There are fewer relevant side quests here as well. The expanses themselves are so full of care and wonder, yet I can’t help but feel the characters and story are so egregiously underbaked. As this is meant to be a spoiler-free review, I won’t go into specifics, but I was left asking things like, “what happened to (major characters A, B, and C)? Did anything in (Area X) lead anywhere? Did I just miss it?”                    A battle with a griffin, one of the few large enemy types available to fight. Performance is a sticking point for many people, and unfortunately, Dragon’s Dogma 2 suffers here. I am playing on PC, so mileage may vary, but even with relatively high-end hardware on 1440p, I run into some choppiness and 30 fps average in towns or cities. For field exploration, I can get a solid 60 on mostly high settings (messing around with some settings optimization is necessary, in my opinion). Variability is high here, so I’m not really sure what the answer is for Capcom, but changing my settings didn’t really seem to help much unless I went below what I would consider a reasonable threshold for my current hardware. If you are okay with a 30 FPS threshold for stable framerates, it seems attainable on most modern systems. I will not be doing an in-depth tech review here, but if it concerns you or you want to learn more, it is definitely worth looking into. I would be remiss if I did not mention the “DLC” currently available for the game. At the time of writing, there are a plethora of microtransactions available for purchase that will give you an assortment of minor consumables. These items are easy to obtain in the game and are largely inconsequential to the experience. Purchasing these is a waste of money and will not benefit you in any meaningful way. Capcom’s decision to include them is a bit baffling and bad business practice on the corporate side of things, but as they are immaterial to the gameplay experience, they will not affect my review of the game. Any ethical concerns over DLC feel like a separate battle to fight, and the controversy surrounding the DLC in this game in particular feels strange, considering it is not uncommon for Capcom to do this in any of their games in the last several years. Why Dragon’s Dogma 2 is bearing the brunt of the frustration over microtransactions, I do not know. However, if we are to look past the DLC practices in other major titles, it feels necessary for me to do the same here. I think if the DLC had been a sort of “pay to win” situation, it could affect my outlook, but as it is, I feel no obligation to consider it. Verdict Dragon’s Dogma 2 is more a reimagining of the original than a sequel, but offers a sense of exploration and wonder that is unmatched in the current gaming landscape, and has some of the most fun combat out there. Dynamic combat and world events keep the game fresh and engaging after many hours of play. Even with its glaring deficiencies, it is hard to say I’ve had more fun playing any game this year. The truth is that this is a hard game to put a number on. The things it does well (exploration and combat) it does exceptionally well. It is a best-in-class experience on those fronts, creating a sense of adventure rarely seen in games. The things it does poorly (writing, quest design, monster variety) are by all metrics underwhelming, but certainly fixable in a long-view of the game (if it receives support going forward, which is not guaranteed at time of writing). This is a pretty niche experience, and it might not be a game with the mass appeal Capcom is hoping for, but I believe it is a game worth playing. If you want to try it out, but are wary of shelling out $70, the cheapest way is to play Dragon’s Dogma . There are key differences, yes, but it would give you the closest thing to a demo for this game available. Image Credits: Capcom and Taylor Rioux

This Expansion Nearly Doubles the Game’s Worldbuilding and Character Creation Toolkit Darrington Press, the tabletop game imprint for Critical Role Productions, has revealed the release date and cover art for the Hope & Fear  expansion to the TTRPG Daggerheart . Rather than a single worldwide release date, the massive expansion is coming out in waves, with the first copies available at Gen Con later this year.  Next, on August 25, copies will be distributed to release at  Darrington Press Guild stores , friendly local game stores, and Critical Role shops (US, UK, CA, AU, and EU). Digital editions of the expansion from Demiplane  and DriveThruRPG  release concurrently with the physical edition. Finally, the expansion releases everywhere else (Amazon, Indigo, etc.) on Tuesday, September 22. In terms of what new content the expansion brings, the book offerings are significant. New character options, including four new classes: the Witch, Warlock, Brawler, and Assassin, each with two unique subclasses; 130+ new adversaries and 28 environments (plus a rip pad of blank adversary sheets to help you easily create your own), 100+ weapons, armor, items, and consumable options. Additionally, it includes four new Campaign Frames introducing new worlds and settings for players to explore. Beyond the book, other items are included in a purchase of the expansion, with Standard and Deluxe offerings having different physical items included.  Daggerheart: Hope & Fear Standard Edition Both editions come with the book and the following items: A completely new Dread Domain set of cards, unlocking ghastly, macabre magic core to the new Witch and Warlock classes.  Subclass Cards for all eight new subclasses. Six Transformation Cards: A completely new mechanic, transformations represent changes or augmentations to characters in Daggerheart. During a campaign or at character creation, characters can transform into a Vampire, Werewolf, Reanimated, Shapeshifter, Ghost, or Demigod. Six new Community Cards: Duneborne, Hearthborne, Frostborne, Warborne, Freeborne, and Reborne. Six new Ancestry Cards: Skykin, Tidekin, Earthkin, Emberkin, Gnome, and Aetheris. Daggerheart: Hope & Fear Deluxe Edition The Deluxe Edition includes a few more items as well: A gold foil box with a wraparound cover featuring all-new artwork unique to this edition. The accessories compartment holds all your gorgeous cards and goodies, and clasps with a secure magnet. Alternate cover artwork on the box, rulebook, and accessories compartment. A new GM screen to track fear and reference rules, and rhombic Fear tokens that stack along the top of the screen, visible to the GM and players. The new artwork sits on the player-facing side while the quick reference information is visible on the game master side. Three adversary rip pads. A rip pad of character sheets, player and GM guides, maps, and more. Deluxe-edition-exclusive dice are also included, with a set of seven sharp-edged polyhedral dice, an oversized d20 for the GM, and a set of 10 rhombic d12s for players to use as Hope & Fear dice. The Daggerheart: Hope & Fear  standard edition is priced at $39.99 USD, and the Deluxe Edition will be $119.99 USD.