Review: Balatro

Posted on August 1, 2026 by Arleigh

It is incredibly rare to find a game that completely takes over your brain in the way that Balatro has. Developed by a solo creator going by the name LocalThunk and published by Playstack, this little indie game dropped out of nowhere and quickly became one of the most talked-about releases of the year. On the surface, it looks like a pretty standard digital poker game. You have a deck of cards, you get dealt a hand, and you try to make the best poker hand possible. But spend about five minutes with it, and you will quickly realize that Balatro is not actually a poker game at all. It is a brilliantly disguised roguelike deck-builder that uses the universal language of poker hands as its foundation to create one of the most addicting gameplay loops I have ever experienced.

The core mechanics start off simple enough to teach anyone, even if you have never played a card game in your life. You are trying to beat a certain score threshold, known as a blind, by playing poker hands. A pair gives you a base amount of chips and a small multiplier. A flush gives you more chips, and a straight flush gives you even more. You play through a series of antes, and the score requirements get higher and higher as you progress. If you fail to reach the score limit with the hands you are dealt, your run is over and you have to start from scratch. It sounds like standard video poker, but the magic of Balatro lies in what happens between these hands.

This is where the deck-building and roguelike elements come crashing in to completely warp your perspective on playing cards. After every blind, you visit a shop where you can spend your hard-earned money on various upgrades. The most important of these are Jokers. You can have up to five Jokers at a time, and each one fundamentally breaks the rules of poker in wildly different ways. One Joker might give you a massive multiplier every time you play a pair. Another might destroy a card in your hand and give you extra chips for each card destroyed. Another might only activate if you play a hand that contains a spade. Suddenly, you are no longer trying to play the statistically best poker hand. You are trying to play the hand that best satisfies the chaotic rules of your specific Jokers.

The deck-building goes even deeper when you factor in the other items you can buy in the shop. Planet cards permanently level up specific poker hands, meaning your flushes will naturally score more points without needing a Joker to boost them. Tarot cards let you literally alter your deck by changing the suit of a card, turning a card into a wild card, or destroying cards outright to thin your deck and increase your chances of drawing the cards you actually need. Spectral cards offer high-risk, high-reward effects that can either make your run legendary or immediately ruin it. If you have ever played a game like Slay the Spire or Monster Train, you will feel right at home with how these systems interlock, but Balatro manages to feel entirely fresh because of its playing card aesthetic.

As a roguelike, the game structure demands that you adapt to what the game gives you. You cannot force a flush-focused build if the shop only gives you Jokers that synergize with pairs and high cards. You have to pivot your strategy on the fly, which leads to these beautifully chaotic runs where you end up winning through sheer absurdity. To keep you on your toes, every eighth blind is a Boss Blind. These bosses apply a universal handicap to your run, like disabling the effect of all face cards, or making it so playing a straight actually deducts points. Beating a Boss Blind requires you to either build an incredibly versatile deck or find a specific Joker that completely ignores the boss’s rules, which is immensely satisfying when you pull it off.

The real triumph of Balatro, however, is just how unbelievably addicting its game loop is, and how that addiction directly feeds into the creation of utterly insane deck combos. Because the game constantly drip-feeds you new jokers and upgrades after every single round, you are always chasing that next layer of synergy. This creates a compulsion loop where you just want to see how far the math can go. What starts as a humble run trying to scrape together a few thousand points with a basic pair suddenly spirals completely out of control. You might pick up a Joker that gives you an x3 multiplier for every face card discarded, then find a planet card that buffs your straight, and then grab another Joker that doubles your entire score if you have exactly four cards left in your hand. Before you know it, the addictive nature of wanting to complete that puzzle pushes your scoring into the absolute stratosphere. You will find yourself playing a single pair of twos and watching the score ticker fly into the millions, then the billions, and occasionally even the trillions. The game loop tricks your brain into treating poker hands like puzzle pieces, and the ultimate reward for solving that puzzle is seeing numbers climb to absurd, astronomical heights that make no logical sense for a standard 52-card deck.

It also helps that the presentation is absolutely spot-on for this type of experience. The user interface is clean and easy to read, which is crucial when you have fifteen different modifiers happening at once and your score is rocketing into the billions. The visual style has a retro, slightly gritty CRT vibe to it that feels mysterious and cool. But the real standout is the sound design. The tactile thwack of the cards hitting the table, the escalating, hypnotic hum of the music as your score multiplier climbs higher and higher, and the incredibly satisfying sound of a massive score being calculated all tie the experience together perfectly. It is a game that feels incredible to just interact with on a moment-to-moment basis.

In a modern gaming landscape that is increasingly obsessed with massive scale, Balatro feels like a beautiful breath of fresh air. The game doesn’t rely on hyperrealistic graphics using the latest game engines with all the bells and whistles that has made game development as expensive, if not even moreso, than the biggest Hollywood blockbusters, but also made their development years in the making. Instead, it leans entirely into the simplicity of its look paired with incredibly complex mechanics under the hood. This brilliant design choice has made it incredibly easy to release on pretty much every platform from every game console, PC and mobile platform. You don’t need a pricey rig to run it; you just need a screen and a functioning brain to appreciate the sheer depth of its systems.

Balatro is a masterclass in game design. LocalThunk took something as simple and universally understood as a deck of playing cards and turned it into a sprawling, deeply strategic, and infinitely replayable roguelike. It takes the best parts of deck-builders and marries them to the instantly recognizable framework of poker, resulting in a game that is easy to learn but nearly impossible to put down. Playstack has an absolute monster hit on their hands here, and I can confidently say that if you have even a passing interest in card games, strategy games, or just games with incredibly tight gameplay loops, you owe it to yourself to play Balatro. Just make sure you do not have anything important to do for the next few days, because once this game gets its hooks in you, it will not let go.

Review: Ball x Pit

Posted on July 25, 2026 by Arleigh

have been playing Ball x Pit way too many times. It is the kind of game that sinks its hooks into you, not through a gripping narrative or photorealistic graphics, but through a pure, unfiltered gameplay loop that is as addictive as anything I have played in years. Developed by Kenny Sun and published by Devolver Digital, this title takes the classic, almost primordial concept of Breakout and smashes it together with the modern, progression-driven obsession of a roguelike, all while throwing in a dash of bullet-hell chaos and even a little bit of base-building for good measure. The result is a game that feels both immediately familiar and utterly fresh, a bizarre and brilliant genre stew that has completely consumed my gaming time.

At its core, the action in the pit is a frantic, vertical-scrolling brawl. You control a hero at the bottom of the screen, and from above, relentless waves of blocky enemies march downwards. Your only defense is a stream of magical balls that you launch upwards, watching them bounce off walls and foes alike. The key is to angle your shots to get the most bounces for maximum damage, a concept straight out of the Arkanoid playbook. But where it gets wild is the roguelike layer. Enemies drop XP gems, and with each level-up, you are presented with a choice of new abilities or perks. This is where your build starts to take shape. You might pick a fireball, a ball that spawns smaller “baby” balls on impact, or a passive perk that causes enemies to explode upon death. This system, highly reminiscent of Vampire Survivors, is where the “bullet hell” moniker comes into play, as your screen eventually becomes a chaotic, beautiful mess of ricocheting projectiles and particle effects.

The true genius of Ball x Pit, however, lies in its fusion and evolution mechanics. You have limited slots for your special balls, but the game frequently drops items that allow you to merge two existing balls into one powerful, combined version. This frees up a slot and creates something new and often devastating, like a laser that also causes bleeding damage. Deciding which balls to fuse, and which passive abilities to stack to support them, is a constant, engaging puzzle that makes every run feel distinct. As one review perfectly described it, the game is a laboratory of damage-dealing, where the question of who do I want to be for this run drives the entire experience. With over fifteen unique characters and dozens of possible evolutions, the strategic potential is huge.

Just when you think you have got the loop figured out, you return to the surface, and the game completely switches gears. The resources you have gathered in the pit are used to rebuild the fallen city of New Ballbylon in a clever base-building minigame. You place farms, quarries, and forests on a grid and then, in a brilliant twist, you harvest them by launching your own heroes into the town like they are balls in a game of Peggle. They bounce off buildings and collect resources, which you then use to construct permanent stat-boosting buildings and unlock new characters. This dual-loop structure is relentlessly compelling. A fifteen-minute run in the pit is always followed by a quick visit to the city to manage your resources and feel your power grow, which in turn makes you eager to dive back into the pit.

It is this frictionless cycle of action, reward, and progression that makes Ball x Pit so dangerously addictive. It is the perfect game for a quick session, but its just one more run hook makes it nearly impossible to put down. Some critics have noted that the base-building can feel a bit tedious and that the game can become too easy once you have unlocked a powerful build, but these are minor complaints against the sheer, joyful momentum of the experience. It is a game that respects your time with its short runs, rewards experimentation, and consistently makes you feel like a genius when a risky fusion pays off. Ball x Pit is more than just a good game; it is a masterclass in game design that understands the core appeal of a simple, satisfying mechanic and builds a sprawling, intricate, and endlessly replayable world around it. It is a cheap, chaotic, and utterly brilliant time sink that I wholeheartedly recommend.

Review: Gears of War

Posted on June 8, 2026 by Arleigh

“We’re not saints. But we are gonna win this fucking war and I’d rather have you on the winning side.” — Marcus Fenix

Let’s be real for a second: trying to play Gears of War from 2006 right after a session of Fortnite or Call of Duty: Modern Warfare III is a genuine shock to the system. You forget how heavy games used to feel. In an era where every shooter has slide-canceling, wall-running, and zero sprint-out times, going back to Marcus Fenix is like trying to run a marathon in steel-toed boots. The Xbox 360 classic, now almost two decades old, exists in this weird purgatory of retro gaming. It’s too young to be nostalgic pixel art, but it’s definitely too old to feel modern. And yet, here’s the thing: Gears of War still matters. Not in spite of its clunkiness, but because of it. When you revisit the ruined planet of Sera today, you realize that the “slowness” we now criticize was actually a specific design philosophy that current games have largely abandoned. It’s a fascinating time capsule—a game that feels like a rusty chainsaw, awkward to start, but terrifyingly effective once you get it going.

The first thing a modern player will notice is the speed—or total lack of it. In 2024, if your character takes a full second to slide into cover, players call it “input lag.” Back in 2006, we called it “weight.” The A-button roadie run is iconic, but compared to the fluidity of something like The Last of Us Part II or Gears 5 itself, the original feels like wading through molasses. You can’t vault over cover while shooting. You can’t cancel out of an animation. When you rev that Lancer chainsaw, you are committed to that animation, and if a Locust sneezes on you, you stagger. This should feel archaic. And honestly, sometimes it does. The middle third of the campaign, dragging through the same gray-brown mine shafts, feels repetitive by 2006 standards, but by today’s standards, it’s almost meditative in its simplicity. There’s no open world checklist. No battle pass. No weapon skins to grind for. You just shoot, move up, and shoot again. For a retro palate cleanser, that linear focus is weirdly refreshing.

Visually, Gears of War is a museum piece for a very specific era of game design: the “Real is Brown” movement. When it launched, Unreal Engine 3 was a miracle. Today, those same textures look like wet concrete. The color palette is aggressively desaturated—mixing grays, browns, and the occasional blood splatter. Current games like Ratchet & Clank: Rift Apart or Horizon Forbidden West are explosions of neon and particle effects. Going back to Gears feels like turning off HDR and watching a DVD on a 4K TV. But here’s the retro magic: the art direction survives the technical decay. The ruined architecture, the massive Locust fortresses, the silhouette of a Berserker breaking through a wall—those aren’t reliant on high polygon counts. They’re reliant on good composition. Jerry O’Flaherty’s vision of “destroyed beauty” still holds up because modern horror-shooters like Scorn or Remnant II are essentially borrowing that same heavy, bio-mechanical aesthetic. You can see the pixelation, sure, but you can also see the blueprint for an entire decade of gaming.

Gameplay is where the retro vs. modern debate gets interesting. The cover system—sticky, magnetic, and automatic—was revolutionary in 2006. By 2024, it’s considered “sticky” in a bad way. Modern shooters prefer contextual cover or manual crouch systems because we hate being glued to walls. Yet, playing Gears today reveals that its combat rhythm is actually more tactical than most modern cover shooters. In The Division 2 or Outriders, you can tank a few hits, heal, and move. In retro Gears on Hardcore difficulty, three bullets kill you. You have to respect the geometry. You have to wait for the Locust to reload. That “stop-and-pop” gameplay feels slow, but it also feels deliberate. Current games are terrified of boring the player, so they constantly throw movement abilities at you. Gears forces you to breathe. It’s almost a horror game in disguise—especially the Berserker fight, where you can’t hurt her from the front. A modern game would put a waypoint marker on her head. Gears just lets you panic and run to the next door. That’s retro charm at its finest: trusting the player to figure it out without a glowing UI.

The weapon design remains timeless, even after all these years. The Lancer with the chainsaw bayonet is one of the few mechanics from the 2000s that still feels fresh because no one else has successfully copied it. Pulling off a saw execution in 2024—even with the stiff animation and the camera glitch—is still cathartic in a way that modern “finishing moves” in Warzone aren’t. The Gnasher shotgun, infamous for its inconsistent pellet spread, is a retro nightmare. Veterans will argue that “host advantage” and “wall bouncing” were skill gaps. New players will argue it just feels broken. Both are correct. That’s the beauty of this game as a retro artifact: the multiplayer is janky, unbalanced, and ruled by veteran roadies who never stopped playing. The active reload mini-game—pressing R to stop a moving bar for a damage boost—remains a tiny stroke of genius that modern games like State of Decay borrowed but never improved.

Now, let’s talk about something that happened outside the actual game but became just as legendary as anything Marcus Fenix did with a shotgun. Before Gears of War even launched, Microsoft and Epic set out to make a commercial that would break every rule of game advertising. They initially approached legendary director David Fincher (Fight Club, Zodiac, Se7en) to helm the project—a massive get for a video game tie-in. But when Fincher had to bow out due to a scheduling conflict, a relatively unknown young director named Joseph Kosinski stepped in. You know Kosinski now as the guy who directed Top Gun: Maverick, the $1.5 billion sequel that made the world fall in love with fighter jets again, as well as Tron: Legacy and the Formula One film F1. But back in 2006, he was a visual effects artist and commercial director taking his first big swing. And boy, did he connect. The resulting sixty-second spot fundamentally rewrote the rules of game advertising. Instead of loud rock and explosion montages—the tired template of every shooter ad before 2006—Kosinski showed Marcus Fenix walking alone through a ruined city in the rain, set to Gary Jules’ haunting, melancholy cover of “Mad World.” The ad barely showed coherent gameplay, yet it sold grief, loneliness, and the weight of a lost world. A commercial for a rated-M shooter about chainsaw guns had no catchphrase, no high-fives, no announcer yelling “Are you ready?” Just a broken man trudging through the rain while a piano played.

It was a gamble that paid off so massively that it broke the industry’s advertising brain. Within a year, Halo 3’s “Believe” diorama ads—also influenced by Kosinski’s work—traded action for elderly veterans remembering a war. Dead Island’s infamous reverse-trailer showed a child’s death set to a mournful song. The Last of Us Part II, Cyberpunk 2077, and Death Stranding all followed with slow, emotional piano or vocal covers over solitary heroes walking through beautiful desolation. Even today, when a new trailer drops with a slowed-down pop cover and a hero looking sad in the rain, you’re watching the ghost of Joseph Kosinski’s twenty-year-old masterpiece. The actual game itself is full of cheesy banter and over-the-top gore—Cole Train yelling “Wooooo!”—but that ad sold a tone the game only occasionally delivered. And in doing so, it proved that video games could be marketed as art, not just adrenaline. You don’t just remember the headshots. You remember the rain. And you remember the name of the director who made that rain matter.

So, how does Gears of War hold up as a retro recommendation in 2024? You have to adjust your expectations. This is not a pick-up-and-play title. It’s a history lesson. The story is still barebones (Locust bad, blow up resonator, Dom’s wife is in another castle), but the vibe is immaculate. The lack of a mission select screen is annoying by modern standards, and the vehicle sections (yes, the infamous “sitting on a turret while riding a train” finale) feel painfully scripted. But the co-op? That’s the secret sauce. Playing split-screen Gears today with a friend is arguably better than playing most modern co-op shooters because the game isn’t trying to sell you anything. No loot boxes. No battle pass. Just two beefy space marines sharing one box of ammo and a lot of terrible one-liners. The influence this game had—and it’s impossible to overstate—is the DNA you see in Uncharted, The Last of Us, and even God of War (2018)’s over-the-shoulder camera. Every AAA third-person shooter from the last fifteen years owes its cover mechanic to this clunky, brown, brilliant fossil.

In the end, calling Gears of War “retro” isn’t an insult. It’s a badge of honor. It is the perfect representation of the Xbox 360 era: ambitious, janky, gray-brown, and completely unwilling to apologize for its weight. A modern shooter would buff your movement speed, add a grappling hook, and turn the Locust into loot piñatas. Gears doesn’t care. It wants you to struggle against the controls for a minute, then laugh as you chainsaw a Grub in half. And somewhere in the back of your mind, as you do it, you might hear a soft piano cover. That contrast—grief and gore, slowness and spectacle—is what makes revisiting Gears of War in 2024 so weirdly worthwhile. It is a slow, heavy, dated, and utterly essential piece of gaming history. Take cover. Wait for the reload. And for the love of God, remember to pick up the Torque Bow. You’ll be fine. Just don’t expect to sprint.

Metaphor: ReFantazio Review

Posted on January 6, 2026 by Arleigh

“Knowledge without action is but a hollow echo.” — Heismay

Metaphor: ReFantazio delivers a fresh fantasy spin on Atlus’s signature JRPG formula, blending turn-based combat with real-time field encounters that keep battles dynamic and strategic, all in service of a narrative that probes deep into societal divides. The game’s Archetype system lets you mix and match job classes across your party, offering deep customization through skill inheritance and squad synthesis for creative builds that shine in tough boss fights, mirroring the story’s emphasis on unity through diversity. While the overarching tale of tribal tensions and royal intrigue captivates from the start, it occasionally leans into familiar Atlus tropes like social bonding and time-sensitive quests that can feel repetitive over its lengthy runtime, though these mechanics cleverly reinforce the plot’s ticking-clock urgency.

Traversal feels epic on your flying sword mount, zipping through vibrant medieval-inspired hubs packed with side requests, from monster hunts to delivery gigs that boost your follower ranks and unlock new abilities, often tying back to the narrative’s exploration of prejudice and alliance-building. Visually, the stylized UI, animated portraits, and lush world design pop with that classic Atlus flair, making every menu and cutscene a treat, with the game making especially striking use of character artist Shigenori Soejima’s artwork to give both the interface and the cast a distinctive, cohesive look. Soejima, known for his work on the Persona series, brings his signature style here—sharp lines, expressive faces, and vibrant color palettes that make every character portrait feel alive and every UI element intuitive yet stylish, visually underscoring the diverse tribes and their clashing ideologies. The character designs stand out particularly in combat, where Archetype shifts trigger flashy animations that highlight Soejima’s attention to detail, from flowing capes on knights to ethereal glows on mages, ensuring the visuals never feel generic despite the fantasy setting that grounds heavy themes.

The soundtrack nails epic orchestral swells during climaxes, paired with solid voice work that brings the diverse cast to life, even if not every dialogue line gets full voicing, amplifying the emotional weight of key story revelations. Composed by the talented team including Shoji Meguro’s influences, the music shifts seamlessly from tense dungeon crawls with pulsing synths to triumphant fanfares during story beats, enhancing the world’s medieval-fantasy vibe without overpowering the action, and perfectly suiting monologues on fear and ignorance. Voice acting, mostly in Japanese with English subtitles as an option, adds authenticity, though the selective dubbing in key scenes keeps things efficient without sacrificing impact during pivotal tribe confrontations.

Diving deeper into the narrative, Metaphor: ReFantazio crafts a world called Euchronia, where the protagonist—a member of the persecuted Elda Tribe—embarks on a quest to save the cursed prince and compete in a grand tournament to claim the throne, all amid rising prejudice fueled by mysterious monsters born from collective human anxieties like doubt and rage. The central theme of ignorance as the root of fear resonates thoughtfully throughout, explored through bonds with followers from various tribes—each with backstories rooted in discrimination, from the scholarly yet shunned eugief tribe to the ethereal Nidia—tying personal growth to larger societal critiques on tribalism and unity. These relationships aren’t just filler; they directly influence your combat prowess by unlocking new Archetypes and synthesis options, making social links feel mechanically integrated rather than tacked-on, while reinforcing the plot’s message that strength emerges from understanding others. Yet, the script sometimes prioritizes exposition over subtlety, with dialogue that explains themes a tad too on-the-nose, especially in early acts before the plot’s twists—like betrayals in the royal election—ramp up the stakes and deliver more nuanced emotional layers. The narrative culminates in a tournament arc where your speeches sway public opinion, blending political intrigue with fantasy in a way that feels timely, critiquing how fear-mongers exploit divisions without ever feeling preachy.

The game’s themes extend far beyond surface-level fantasy politics, weaving in profound ideas about human cognition and societal ills, best encapsulated by the line “O worthy heart, who tempers anxiety into strength”—a recurring invocation when awakening Archetypes that perfectly distills how the story transforms personal and collective fears into heroic potential. Ignorance isn’t just a buzzword; it’s literalized through the mechanics of human cognition, where unchecked emotions manifest as those Bosch-inspired monsters—grotesque hybrids symbolizing sloth, lust, or despair—challenging players to confront not external evils, but the shadows within collective psyches. This ties into broader explorations of tribalism, where each playable tribe represents marginalized groups: the immortal Elda as eternal wanderers mistrusted for their longevity, the brutish Nidia dismissed as savages, paralleling real-world racism and xenophobia. The royal election mechanic forces you to campaign like a politician, balancing Follower ranks (public support) with bond-building, highlighting how leaders must combat misinformation and rally diverse factions—echoing modern populism without direct allegory, as echoed in More’s constant reminder: “Time marches on, and the age of a new king draws nearer.” Ideas of inherited trauma surface too, as the protagonist grapples with his tribe’s cursed history, questioning if prejudice is a cycle broken only by empathy and action, reinforced by optional lore dumps from informants that unpack Euchronia’s lore of ancient calamities born from unchecked fears.

Later arcs delve into justice versus vengeance, as revelations about the prince and antagonists reveal layers of manipulated ignorance, asking whether punishing the fearful perpetuates division or if education through example prevails. Themes of escapism critique fantasy itself: characters cling to idealized “Royal” saviors, mirroring how societies project hopes onto myths, only for the story to dismantle that by humanizing leaders as flawed products of their biases. Multiple endings—ranging from unified reigns to fractured chaos—hinge on your thematic investments, like prioritizing certain bonds over others, ensuring the ideas stick through mechanical consequence. It’s a mature evolution from Persona‘s teen angst, grounding abstract concepts in tangible choices that provoke reflection on complicity in systemic hate, with Strohl’s encouragement “I really do believe you have the power to change fate itself” underscoring the faith in individual agency amid societal rot.

Combat evolves the Press Turn system from Shin Megami Tensei, where exploiting enemy weaknesses grants extra turns, but now with Archetype swaps mid-battle for on-the-fly adaptation—summoning a tank to soak hits or a healer to recover without ending your chain—echoing the story’s adaptive heroism. Squad battles add a layer of real-time command over AI allies during field scraps, bridging the gap between exploration and turn-based depth seamlessly, much like how narrative bonds bridge tribal gaps. Dungeons vary from linear boss rushes to sprawling labyrinths with environmental puzzles, like using wind magic to clear miasma or mounting those monsters for platforming sections, keeping pacing fresh across 80-100 hours and often themed around the anxieties they represent—many of which evoke the nightmarish, hybrid figures from Hieronymus Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights, with their grotesque amalgamations of human limbs, animal parts, and surreal machinery perfectly capturing the game’s theme of manifested inner turmoil. Post-game content expands this further with New Game+ carrying over levels and a challenging high-level superboss gauntlet that tests your most optimized builds, inviting replays to uncover alternate endings tied to bond choices.

On the flip side, character arcs stay mostly heroic without much grit or internal conflict, which softens the emotional punch compared to edgier Atlus entries like Persona 5‘s rebellious heists, potentially muting the themes’ bite for some players, and the “days till” deadlines force constant planning that might frustrate casual explorers. Time management becomes a core loop: follow the critical path for story progress, but stray for bonds and requests at the risk of missing deadlines, creating tension that’s smart but stressful for completionists, directly mirroring the narrative’s pressure to confront ignorance swiftly. Some side activities, like the casino minigame or follower requests, offer great rewards but grindy repetition, and while the map system improves navigation with waypoints, backtracking in identical dungeon rooms can sap momentum during marathon sessions delving into lore-heavy side stories.

Accessibility options abound, from adjustable battle speed to auto-battle for farming, making it welcoming for series newcomers wary of steep JRPG curves while they absorb the dense thematic content. Compared to Persona 3 Reload, Metaphor sheds the school-life sim for pure high fantasy, trading calendar dating for royal election drama centered on prejudice, yet retains that addictive “just one more day” hook through its polished systems and unfolding revelations.

Exploration shines in hubs like Grand Trad, a bustling port city alive with merchants, street performers, and cryptic informant conversations that reveal lore tidbits on Euchronia’s fractured history. The monster system lets you befriend (or hunt) foes for your compendium, inheriting skills like in SMT, but with a bond mechanic that speeds recruitment via gifts or dialogue choices—perfect for building that ultimate party and paralleling human alliances, especially when those Bosch-like beasts start feeling less monstrous through repeated encounters. Synthesis combines Archetypes for hybrid classes, like a ninja-healer churning out status cures while stealth-attacking, rewarding experimentation without locking you into dead ends, much like the story’s flexible path to overcoming bias.

Thematically, Metaphor: ReFantazio tackles prejudice head-on through its tribal dynamics and election mechanics, where swaying public opinion via speeches and deeds mirrors real-world politics in a fantastical lens, with each tribe embodying facets of societal “others”—the immortal Elda as eternal outsiders, the brutish as feared brutes—challenging players to dismantle stereotypes. It’s bolder than Persona’s high school metaphors, grounding fantasy in social commentary without preaching, as the protagonist’s journey from outcast to candidate forces reflection on inherited fears passed down generations. Multiple endings based on follower bonds and tournament outcomes add replay value, rewarding deep investment in the themes, while bosses escalate brilliantly, from multi-phase behemoths requiring Archetype juggling to “Clemar” trials testing pure strategy, often with unique gimmicks like reversing Press Turns that symbolize narrative reversals.

For Atlus fans, this feels like the studio firing on all cylinders post-Persona 5 Royal, refining mechanics while daring a new IP unburdened by franchise baggage, with a narrative that stands as one of their most cohesive thematic statements. Newcomers get a guided onboarding with tutorials that don’t overstay, easing into complexity naturally alongside the story’s gradual world-building. Drawbacks like sparse enemy variety in late-game fields and occasional UI clutter during synthesis menus hold it back from perfection, but they’re minor amid the highs of its thoughtful storytelling.

Ultimately, Metaphor: ReFantazio stands tall as an accessible gateway for JRPG newcomers and a loving evolution for fans, balancing highs in gameplay depth with minor stumbles in narrative subtlety, all elevated by its poignant exploration of ignorance and unity. Clocking over 110 hours on a full clear, it earns its GOTY buzz through sheer ambition and polish, proving Atlus can reinvent without losing its soul. If you’re craving a meaty RPG with style, strategy, and a story that lingers on real-world echoes, this one’s a no-brainer—just pace yourself through those deadlines.

Review: Final Fantasy VI

Posted on January 5, 2026 by Arleigh

“It’s not the result of one’s life that’s important. It’s the day-to-day concerns, the personal victories, and the celebration of life… and love. It’s enough if people are able to experience the joy that each day can bring…” – Terra Bradford

Final Fantasy VI is one of those JRPGs that feels bigger than the cartridge it shipped on, and even now it earns its reputation as both a high point of the 16-bit era and a blueprint for what narrative-driven RPGs could become. It is dense, melodramatic, occasionally clunky, but consistently ambitious in ways that still feel relevant to the genre’s modern landscape, blending theatrical storytelling with flexible mechanics and a structure that dares to rethink its own world midway through. Revisiting it reveals not just a classic, but a foundational text whose echoes show up in everything from ensemble casts to customizable skill systems in later titles.

The opening hours set the tone with impressive confidence, dropping you right into a steampunk-flavored world where magic has been industrialized into a tool of conquest. Terra, a half-human, half-Esper whose mind is shackled by an imperial slave crown, marches through snowy mountains in powered Magitek armor toward the mining town of Narshe, instantly hooking you with her vulnerability amid high-stakes espionage. This personal thread weaves into a broader guerrilla war between the Gestahlian Empire—led by the scheming Gestahl and his unhinged general Kefka—and the ragtag Returners resistance, but the real genius is how the story quickly pivots from standard “rebels vs. empire” to a sprawling ensemble piece that trusts no single hero to carry the weight.

That cast of fourteen permanent party members is the game’s boldest swing, each layered with backstories, quirks, and mechanical identities that make them stick. Terra grapples with her monstrous heritage and search for belonging, Celes wrestles betrayal and isolation after defecting from the Empire, Locke chases redemption for a lost love, Cyan buries himself in grief over his family’s slaughter, Sabin roams as a free-spirited brawler, Edgar plays the charming king-turned-inventor, and Setzer brings cynical gambler flair—it’s a roster that juggles melodrama like opera-house soliloquies and doomed romances with quieter, human moments that land surprisingly hard even today. Some inevitably get shortchanged if you beeline through the back half, feeling more like vivid archetypes than deep dives, but the sheer ambition of giving everyone a mini-arc amid the chaos set a new bar for character work in JRPGs, influencing how later games like the Persona series built entire identities around tight-knit parties and personal subplots.

Kefka anchors the escalating stakes as few villains do, evolving from a clownish psycho prone to war crimes like poisoning a town into a nihilistic force who hijacks the god-like Warring Triad, shatters the planet, and rules the resulting apocalypse as a tyrant-god cackling over the ruins. Midway through, he doesn’t just threaten doom—he delivers it, wiping cities off the map and thrusting the story into the World of Ruin, a time-skipped wasteland where survivors scrape by amid decay and despair. This pivot isn’t a cheap shock; it’s a structural earthquake that shifts the tone to post-apocalyptic reflection, forcing each character to confront whether they even have a reason to fight on, with Celes’ suicidal low point on a lonely island giving way to gradual reunions that feel earned because you choose the order. That willingness to let the bad guy win—and make the heroes rebuild emotionally as well as literally—rippled through the genre, showing JRPGs could handle survivor guilt, loss, and fragile hope without hand-waving the darkness.

Structurally, it’s like two games fused together: the linear World of Balance builds your crew through set pieces like infiltrations, multi-party defenses, and the iconic opera sequence, then explodes into a semi-open World of Ruin where you roam a shattered map, tackling side dungeons and personal vignettes at will. Pacing can wobble if you stray off-path early or grind too hard later, but the freedom to prioritize arcs—like Cyan’s haunted family dreams or Terra’s village sanctuary—mirrors the themes of recovery, prefiguring how modern titles blend cosmic plots with player-driven character priorities.

Combat nails a sweet spot with the Active Time Battle system, where gauges fill in real-time for flexible pacing—toggle “Active” for pressure or “Wait” to strategize—and row positioning adds tactics, frontliners tanking full hits while backrow slings safer damage. Character-unique commands keep it fresh: Sabin’s Blitz commands mimic fighting-game inputs, Edgar’s Tools hit formations, Cyan charges sword techs, Gau Rages as monsters, Setzer gambles on slots—making swaps feel playful and deliberate. The Esper system elevates this, letting anyone equip magical summons to learn spells via Magic Points and snag level-up bonuses, blending fixed identities with modular builds in a way that blurred roles late-game but normalized customization as core to JRPG fun.

This philosophy—strong personalities atop teachable, recombinable abilities—quietly reshaped the genre, with Persona‘s demon/persona fusion, Lost Odyssey‘s memory-tied skills, and similar systems in Clair Obscur owing a debt to Espers as a bridge from rigid classes to player-sculpted parties without erasing narrative flavor. Dungeons mix it up too, from pincer ambushes and gimmick bosses like the shell-hiding Whelk to timed escapes and that charming opera blending inputs with spectacle, though some late hauls drag with random encounters exposing 16-bit limits.

Visually, it’s pixel art at its peak: expressive sprites, detailed industrial backdrops, and a palette flip from Balance’s vibrancy to Ruin’s sickly decay, with ruined landmarks and evolving NPC lines selling irreversible change. Bosses escalate to surreal, painterly horrors fitting the finale’s otherworldliness, proving art direction trumps raw fidelity.

Nobuo Uematsu’s soundtrack is legendary for good reason, weaving leitmotifs—Terra’s theme, Kefka’s manic laugh, Celes’ aria—into a narrative spine that evolves with the story, from triumphant fanfares to haunting piano and faux-choral dread, all within SNES constraints. It established JRPG scores as orchestral-caliber storytelling tools, influencing fully symphonic later works and live concerts.

Final Fantasy VI‘s legacy permeates JRPGs today, its DNA visible in the way Persona weaves school-life bonds with supernatural showdowns, how Lost Odyssey probes immortal grief through written vignettes, or how ambitious indies like Clair Obscur chase painterly melancholy and hope amid ruin—the ensemble healing, world-shattering pivots, and trauma-to-recovery arcs all trace back here, proving a 16-bit game could set emotional and structural templates still in play. Hironobu Sakaguchi crystallized as the modern JRPG’s godfather through this title, fusing mechanical innovation like Esper flexibility with mature themes of identity and despair that Final Fantasy VII and beyond amplified into global phenomena, his vision elevating the genre from quest logs to profound, character-soaked epics.

The Final Fantasy VII Remake‘s blockbuster success—reimagining a classic with modern graphics, cinematic flair, real-time twists, and expanded character beats—has only intensified fan campaigns for VI to get similar lavish treatment, from a fully voiced, motion-captured opera house to a destructible world rendered in heartbreaking detail and Ruin reunions that hit even harder with modern intimacy. Yet Square Enix leadership has flagged the project’s nigh-insurmountable scale: the fourteen-character sprawl, mid-game reset, player-driven nonlinearity, and web of optional stories demand a development odyssey that could dwarf even VII‘s trilogy, risking dilution of what makes the original a personal, unpredictable journey if forced into rigid cinematic lanes.

Flaws persist—sappy dialogue dates it amid earnest monologues, sidelined characters like Gau or Strago need deliberate hunting for payoff, Espers can shatter balance into spell-spam routs, and marathon dungeons fatigue under random encounter spam—but these 16-bit quirks pale against a boldness that endures. Final Fantasy VI isn’t frozen nostalgia; it’s a living cornerstone, its sprawling heart, tinkering joy, musical sweep, and unyielding ambition still sparking JRPG evolution, demanding replays not as history homework but as a masterclass in what the genre can feel like when it swings for the fences and connects. Decades on, it whispers to every ambitious RPG dev: let your world break, let your cast breathe, let your systems invite play—and watch players find reasons to care long after the credits roll.

Horror Retro Review: Shadow Hearts

Posted on October 16, 2014 by Arleigh

Role-playing games have been a major staple of console gamers since the days of the Super Nintendo console. It became even more popular with the release of the first Playstation which had as one of it’s biggest selling point the Japanese role-playing game Final Fantasy VII. This title from Squaresoft (now Square-Enix) introduced the role-playing game genre to many gamers who grew up on shooters and action titles.

Final Fantasy became synonymous with Japanese RPG, yet there were other rpg titles out there that were just as good if not better. One such title that flew under the radar, but definitely caught the attention of hardcore gamers during the early days of the PS2 was the Japanese rpg Shadow Hearts from Sacnoth. It didn’t have the polish and epic spectacle gamers were used to with the Final Fantasy titles, but it did bring a new take on the time-tested rpg genre. Sacnoth decided to use horror as the theme of it’s title instead of scifi or fantasy and it’s that artistic choice which made Shadow Hearts such a unique title and one still beloved by it’s many fans.

Set in an alternate reality during the early 1900’s, Shadow Hearts follows the adventures of Yuri Hyuga and Alice Elliott as they attempt to solve the mystery of why the latter was being pursued by the historical figure Roger Bacon (who history says wasn’t just a learned Franciscan friar but one of the preeminent philosophers of his time). The game takes Yuri and Alice through several cities in China and Europe and most of them somewhat heightened-versions of their real counterparts, but where mysticism, the supernatural and folklore have become somewhat accepted.

The game doesn’t flinch in portraying not just the horrors of war, but of the shadow world just bubbling beneath the surface that involves demons, vampires, sorcerers and zombies. the main protagonist, Yuri Hyuga, even unlocks greater abilities and powers by absorbing the souls of enemies he has killed and entering a sort of personal “Dream Realm (or Nightmare depending on one’s interpretation) where he must battle personal demons to gain their powers. It’s definitely not something that Final Fantasy players have been exposed to in the past and I think it’s one major reason why the game appealed to some gamers who wanted something new in the Japanese rpg scene that was becoming dominated and homogenized by the styles pushed Square-Enix’s Final Fantasy franchise.

Shadow Hearts had a unique way of doing combat during the game: The Justice Ring.

The Justice Ring combat system was a nice change of pace to the usual turn-based battle system used in most Japanese rpgs. This battle system was still turn-based, but every action outside of defending was affected on how well the player hits his mark on the rotating Justice Ring. This kept the player from just picking an action and seeing what happens, or even worse, just button mashing the attack action to try and win fights. The Justice Ring system kept the player involved throughout the whole battle. Sometimes perfect use of the Justice Ring was a must to fight and succeed against certain bosses and situations.

Shadow Hearts might not have the pedigree of the Final Fantasy series, but it was a nice change of pace from the the typical scifi-fantasy that series re-used over and over to the point that they became a video game trope that was seen by some as a negative rather than a positive. The game itself wasn’t perfect by any means and had more than it’s fair share of glaring flaws. The dialogue was pretty laughable at times though never to the point that it broke the game’s serious and ominous tone. The graphics, for a PS2 title, was very underwhelming especially when compared to the Final Fantasy franchise.

Yet, despite all its warts and flaws, Shadow Hearts remains one of the more unique rpg gaming experience of the early 2000’s and it became popular enough that it would spawn two more sequels that would explore the alternate reality the franchise was based on. I’m all for the scifi and fantasy worlds that most console rpgs have been using as their templates, but once in awhile I’m reminded that rpgs could also have fun in the horror realm and Shadow Hearts helped make that deviation from the norm happen.

On a sidenote, this game also had a great soundtrack from Japanese composer Yoshitaka Hirota

Game Review: Artist Survival Simulator

Posted on May 27, 2014 by Lisa Marie Bowman

You’re looking at this post and you’re asking yourself, “Since when has Lisa cared about games? I thought she only cared about Italian horror films and Lifetime movies! Is Lisa seriously reviewing a game?”

Well, as a matter of fact, I am.

Why?

Because I love the Artist Survival Simulator.

The Artist Survival Simulator is a work of interactive fiction that was designed by using Twine. As the title suggests, the Artist Survival Simulator allows you to live the life of an artist. And who doesn’t want to be an artist, right? But, as this game shows, the life of an artist is not an easy one.

The game begins by asking you three times whether or not you really want to embark on this life. At the very least, you can’t say that you haven’t been warned. After clicking yes three times, you are informed that you have just completed your studies in fine arts! Yay! Your inspiration is strong (though, as you’ll soon find out, your inspiration increases and decreases depending on your actions throughout the game). You worked while you were in college so you’ve got 5,000 Euros saved up.

(That’s right — you’re European! So, while the rest of your fellow Europeans are busy voting for the UKIP and the Front National, you’re saving the world through art! Yay!)

Each month, you’re given four options. You can make art, you can work for a living, you can apply for a grant, or you can go on an inspirational excursion. Now, if you’re anything like me, you’re going to want to make art and that’s great. Depending on how or low your inspiration may be, you might create anything from a “timeless painting” to a “controversial monument” to a “mediocre sound art work.” But here’s the thing — regardless of what you create, you’re not going to make any money from it.

“That’s okay,” you say, “Art is not about money!”

Well, that’s all good and well and hey, good luck with that and enjoy your Occupy reunion, you moonbat. The fact of the matter is that, in both the game and real life, you need money to live. Each month, your living expenses total 1,000 Euros. As soon as you’re out of Euros, the game ends. So, go ahead and just concentrate on creating art. The game will be over in 5 turns.

So, let’s say you decide to spend a month working. Hey, that’s a good idea. At least you can make money. But here’s the problem — each month you spend working, your inspiration decreases. And here’s the thing — as your inspiration decreases, your art becomes less and less impressive and once you have totally run out of inspiration, your artistic career is over.

Luckily, there is a way to increase your inspiration. You can go on an “inspirational excursion,” which is also known as a vacation. These excursions are great because you return from them ready to create something wonderful. The only problem is that they cost 2,000 Euros, which means that as soon as you return, you’re in danger of running out of money. And how do we make money? By working, which decreases the inspiration that you just spent so much money to build up.

Okay, so how can you make money without destroying your inspiration? Well, you can apply for a grant but — much as in real life — there’s no way to predict whether or not you’ll actually get that grant. If you do get it, you’ll be able to spend a few months creating art but, if you don’t, it just means that you’ve wasted an entire month and you’re down another 1,000 Euros.

The challenge is to balance the need for money with the need for inspiration. Because, as soon as you run out of money and/or inspiration, you’re informed that maybe its time to start thinking about paying back your student loans…

THE HORROR!

I love the Artist Survival Simulator because it proves something that I’ve always suspected. If you want to survive as an artist, it helps to come from a rich family.

Play it here!

FTL – Advanced Edition

Posted on April 6, 2014 by Semtex Skittle

When Faster Than Light first launched, in the before time, in the long long ago… the developers talked about updates. Upgrades. Expansions. For a long time, we had nothing.

But then, as good developers are wont to do… we got everything. We got FTL – Advanced Edition. It’s more than just an expansion to the amazing space-based Rogue-like that we already played. It’s more than a remake which provides tons of extra features and cosmetic improvements that would have helped the initial release. It’s both an expansion and a remake all at once. It’s a huge upgrade to the core game filled with many quality-of-life improvements combined with an expansion that introduces many new mechanics, a new cruiser, a heavy load of new weapons and augments… even a new alien race. It’s pretty good.

And before I go a step further, let me tell you about the best part: It’s free!

It’s free because you already bought Faster Than Light on my recommendation. If you didn’t… well, I feel for you. Because a great game has been out for years without your knowledge. Luckily, it’s not too late. Things haven’t changed. Even if you’re just buying now, the game is still going to cost you only $9.99 US. For everything! If you have any interest in this deep, strategic, space-based Rogue-like… this is an excellent price point. It could get better on the Steam sale… but in general, this isn’t too dear a price to pay to support an excellent indie developer who has produced an excellent product.

So what’s so good about FTL Advanced Edition? I guess everything. Let’s talk about the improvements, in no particular order.

– A new alien cruiser, provided free of charge to owners of Advanced Edition. It’s a totally unique ship. The new alien species (no surprise) mans this craft… and their special characteristic is being awesome… but also draining oxygen out of any room they’re in. Obviously, you can create an awesome ship out of these aliens alone. But that’s not guaranteed in FTL. Still, it’s brutally hard for boarders to take a ship with no oxygen. I’m sure we’ve all tried and been burned horribly by automated ships in the past!

– A new alien species! They suck oxygen, but otherwise are pretty awesome. Wait, it’s easy to turn no air to your advantage? Maybe they’re just awesome.

– Tooltips. The game has had a staggering upgrade in UI. One of the biggest and most immediately apparent differences is in UI. I think literally one zillion (technical term) tooltips have been added to the game. More or less everything now has some information associated. In some ways, you’re still flying blind, but in others… there’s a degree of transparancy which will help you decode what to do.

– Piles of new stuff. New equipment. New weapons. New events. Old events re-worked. It’s the same game, but it’s different enough. If you thought, for example, Reaper of Souls, was a very nice quality of life upgrade with some new content… this is at least that good. Only it’s free to game owners. Pretty rough, huh?

– New qualities, new hazards. Ion events in deep space. Freezing. Fire! Totally new qualities. In many ways, this is the same FTL that you already knew… except there’s a thousand more variables now. The expansiveness of the game has increased dramatically.

– Let’s talk more about those UI upgrades. Simple quality of life stuff. Making a jump on the sector map? You can now see what jumps are ‘in range’ and you can make from your destination. Ever been frustrated, being stuck in a random corner you thought you could escape, fighting Rebel cruiser after Rebel cruiser? Nah, no big deal now.

– More ship layouts. More ship access. You can now unlock any ship in the game (except for the Crystal cruiser) by beating the game. If you’re good, you’ll get access to ship after ship… and eventually, you’ll begin to gain access to C-style layouts. They include many of the new…

– New ships systems. Replace your medical healing bay with a Clone Bay that heals crew members only on jump, but also clones new copies of dead crewmates. Gain a battery backup that gives you a gigantic reactor boost for 30 seconds, giving you overwhelming power in those nebulae. Gain a hacking module which lets you close doors and cripple opposing ships. Gain the mind control module, turning opposing crewmen into your crewmen. Try deploying MC tech against the Rebel flagship, and make a winning strategy even better!

– A new sector. This exists, but I have not yet been able to produce it, through the games I’ve played. I apologize. Rumour holds that it centers around the new alien race, and their oxygen-sucking ways. It’s probably awesome.

– It bears repeating that the script has been revisited, expanded, and improved. This includes both old events and new. The overall experience is more streamlined, and more awesome, than it was before.

Do I seriously need to keep stumping for a free upgrade with bullet points?

Buy the game! Upgrade the game! Enjoy the game!

The Reaper of Souls

Posted on March 28, 2014 by Semtex Skittle

There’s no need to be afraid. Spoilers do follow (to the extent that a Diablo game can be spoiled). You have been warned.

So, in the relatively recent (surprisingly still recent!) past… Blizzard Entertainment released a hilariously long-delayed sequel, which is sort of their hallmark, in Diablo 3. Probably everyone who had some interest in the Diablo franchise played it. And, in several ways, it was sort of the ultimate evolution of the Diablo formula and format. Is the storyline silly? Yes. In fact, it borders on preposterous. But it also holds together in a ‘good enough’ way to propel the action through a variety of beautifully rendered locales killing everything in sight. Reaper of Souls does not alter this formula. Presumably none of us tuned into Diablo for storytelling, right? It’s not an RPG. It’s a game where you click on monsters and kill them. Your reward is better loot, which makes it easier to click on monsters and kill them. It is weirdly absorbing in its way, but it is not high art. This is a game about a visceral experience; it is purely about fun.

And Diablo 3 was fun. It improved heavily upon Diablo 2. Each class can now be either sex! Each class now has a half dozen abilities in play at a given time, rather than just ‘left click’ and ‘right’ click… and the procedural generation, while still present, is a little more structured… or, at least, it feels a little more structured. Some areas seem to vary little between different playthroughs. To be perfectly honest, while it is a very competently produced game, a tight experience, with lovely graphics… I didn’t feel like I had $60 worth of game when I acquired Diablo 3. I think I eventually got enough play hours out of it to where I can shrug and move on… but I didn’t expect to find myself shelling out another $40 for Reaper of Souls. I did it anyway, though.

The good news is, for what fence-sitters may remain… Reaper of Souls is pretty good! Let’s discuss several reasons why:

– Act V. Act V is a massive act, easily twice the size of any of Diablo 3’s four acts. It comes complete with an entirely new selection of monsters, three major bosses with complex battle mechanics and a variety of environments, all of which are pretty cool. It’s hard not to respond to Act V as the best overall Act available in the game now. Act V, for those who haven’t been paying attention, follows the Nephalem’s quest to save the entire world of Sanctuary from a renegade angel, Malthael, whose exact plan remains unknown.

– Crusader. Crusader is the new class, a melee attacker like the Barbarian or Monk. The Crusader uses a weapon and shield style, though the weapon can be two-handed with the use of a passive skill slot. In play, they feel strong defensively, with a good area of effect capability. I have yet any of their legendary items with my own eyes, but the class does represent a new way to experience the game. I certainly can’t claim to have 60’d a Crusader, let alone 70’d… but I have played the Crusader, and it is good.

– Loot 2.0. I know this actually launched at the start of March, but it was part of the build-up to Reaper of Souls. I get how a company seeking profit would clamp onto the idea of the real cash auction house. I get how the economic power of the World of WarCraft Aution House could invite the creation of a similar body in Diablo 3… but even the most hardcore players I know would suggest that the existence of both cash and gold AHs was a mistake in Diablo 3. At best, they did nothing to improve the experience. In the real world, they significantly harmed it.

Now that the Auction House is gone… we get Loot 2.0. A universal improvement over loot 1.0, randomly generated loot now tends to generate according to your needs. Stats are much more likely to roll for your class, legendaries will (almost) always be for your class. Sets? I haven’t seen much of, despite a good number of hours invested… but I assume they adhere to similar principles.

– Bosses 2.0.

One area where Reaper of Souls really shrines is in boss design. Did you like the act bosses in Diablo 3? Because loot 2.0 comes with boss 2.0, and even without the expansion, the purple encounters throughout the game have been tweaked, revisited, improved… and it goes double for Reaper of Souls itself. Uzrael, the first of three significant act bosses, was more complex than the act bosses in Diablo 3… more complex than Baal had been in Diablo 2… Blizzard applying lessons learned from years of creating raid encounters for increasingly sophisticated MMO players. But there are balances to be struck, and they differ between products. A single character has to be able to confront Malthael at the finale of Reaper of Souls, and ultimately that’s as much a part of the game as 10/25 man raids are for World of WarCraft. This is a process that easily could have been screwed up, but instead it’s been implemented beautifully. Malthael’s encounter is an epic affair, featuring no easily discernible pattern, with Malthael possessing at least a dozen different types of attacks, some of which are not easy to dodge. He will test both your skill and your gear, and it was awfully satisfying to finally see him fall.

– Difficulty 2.0

Reaper of Souls heralds a new dynamic difficulty system for Diablo.. one that is based, more or less, on your gear… rather than your level. In Diablo 2, and again at Diablo 3’s launch, difficulty consisted of Normal, Nightmare, Hell, etc. difficulties, each higher difficulty “unlocked” by completing the previous one. In order to proceed, you have no choice but to play through the entire storyline, consecutively. It made it harder to just “jump in” to games with your friends unless they were in the same difficulty of the game, and the difficulty jumps generally were quite drastic.

Difficulty 2.0 attempts to smooth all of this with a much more dynamic difficulty system. Now, the player has access to a several ‘standard’ difficulty levels, and then Torment levels which are designed for high-level (60+ minimum) play. The higher the difficulty you play on, the bigger the bonus is to the player’s experience points earned, gold and item find. Since this sliding scale also stacks with the inherent bonuses from having multiple players in the game, high level runs on Torment difficulties with your friends can produce quick dividends in terms of loot. Of course, there’s always better loot just around the corner…

These are the most substantive changes. They were needed, they are positive, and if anything could re-invigorate the Diablo 3 experience for you… this patch and expansion will probably do it. The game features many other improvements, like customising items (both a single property of a given item can be swapped out, and its appearance ‘transmogrified’, using a new artisan in town), an expanded stash, re-worked items and class features, and so on.

There are two big negatives, however. They are intertwined, and they are compelling.

– $39.95 U.S.. And that’s not me getting overcharged for physical media at Wal-Mart. That’s from Blizzard’s digital store, through my Battle.net account. For an expansion? Ouch. Now, obviously, they did a lot of work on this one. Act V is big, Malthael is a bad ass, and all of the other updates and improvements were welcome… but it’s still a stiff price tag to pay for a game add-on. I’m suspicious of the idea that a new character class is really that big of an addition to this type of game. But there it is. They’ve already got my money.

– It’s still Diablo. That means that its replayability mileage for you [i]may vary[/i]. Just keep that in mind, before you shell out your hard-earned money. Still, if Diablo has always been something you’ve enjoyed, you will find this the most pleasing offering so far.

Payday 2

Posted on August 25, 2013 by Semtex Skittle

A little while back, a little studio called Overkill put a game on Steam called Payday: The Heist. The release completely passed me by. In fact, I was totally ignorant even of the existence of the title until a group of my friends all bought it and decided to start robbing banks together. They were so taken with it that they demanded that I join them, and I couldn’t have been happier with the purchase. We passed many nights (and into the early mornings, sometimes!) trying to grind our way through harder difficulties, and try to learn more advanced ways to stealth through the various ‘heists’, which included stuff ranging from your standard-issue bank job through a Left 4 Dead inspired hospital mission called, fittingly, No Mercy, where a shadowy anonymous buy was willing to pay bank in exchange for a sample of infected blood.

The game was marked by a number of good ideas. It includes minor RPG elements in that your account ‘levels up’ as you play more heists, granting access to useful abilities. In the original game, most of these bonuses were tied directly to weapons and armor and your ability to last in combat against the inevitable waves of police and SWAT forces that would attempt to keep you from escaping with your ill-gotten gains. Being stealthy at the start of a heist by using silenced weapons and preventing any civilian hostages in the area from escaping to summon help could pay significant dividends as you waited for your large thermal drill to bore its way into this vault or that one. A variety of weapons and gadgets rounded out your heisting arsenal, modeled off of real-life weapons augmented by just a bit of fancy. The game included multiple difficulty levels for every heist which would affect the number and types of enemies that spawn, and add other random factors that could make heists substantially more challenging. Indeed, that random AI Director feature of the game also helped its replayability dramatically, as heists could play out very differently if things went right – or very much wrong.

Payday 2 improves noticeably upon almost all of this. The heists are now more elaborate, including multi-day criminal enterprises (such as a ‘Watchdog’ mission where you must first secure a shipment of cocaine against an FBI operation, then in ‘day 2’ load the coke onto a drug boat at the docks, all while under police assault), and a wider variety of possible objectives – your crew are no longer strictly robbers, but rather highly skilled specialists for higher, men of limited principles and significant hardware.

The skill trees (Mastermind, Enforcer, Technician and Ghost, respectively) now include a wider variety of abilities, many of which can be directly employed for greater speed or stealth in the missions. Now, being a high level player with access to the best gadgets can make the simpler heists significantly easier, allowing the players to focus on the greater challenges of high difficulty level multi-day jobs. I personally find it very rewarding to try and work through missions in a stealthy way. Not only can some rewards become greater when you don’t have to battle you way through police lines, but the heists can also (often) be done cleaner and more quickly with the application of stealth. Returning is the oft-failing thermal drill which is the centerpiece of a number of missions where you try to gain access to a safe or other place you shouldn’t be, but this can now be circumvented if your technician is skilled enough to deploy shaped charges to blow off hinges, or if your ghost has an ECM Jammer that can bypass electronic security. The Mastermind can talk down inquisitive guards on the other end of the phone, easily intimidate and control civilians, and provide a slew of buffs to the group, and the Enforcer can (among so many other things) bring a powerful rotary saw to slice open less-imposing lockboxes, ATM machines, and encroaching enemies who draw too close.

Also notable in Payday 2 is a more credible electronic opponent. In the original game, the challenge was typically increased by sending more powerful units earlier in the mission, legions of ‘special’ units, and an unending stream of SWAT goons and their guns. To an extent, this is still completely true. However, the enemy now employs lesser raw numbers in favour of better tactics, and more threatening enemy units. Of course, stealth your way through the missions, and you may never have to suffer their wrath…

Payday 2 is not by any means a perfect game, however. The mission select is now done through an interface called Crime.net, which is a black and white overhead map of a city on which missions appear as ‘pings’ (as if the job just became available, complete with a timer before the job eventually disappears). Because of this system, if your crew is in favour of running a particular heist, it quite literally might take as long as half an hour of ‘browsing’ Crime.net for it to appear (or perhaps even longer!). In the most recent update, Overkill added some very basic filters to the Crime.net interface, allowing you to opt out of missions below a certain difficulty level… but this seems woefully inadequate. Though the game contains 10 heists, they re-use a couple of maps between them, and some of them are completely basic – there’s almost nothing to them. These are offset by some very complex heists higher up in pay scale, but some of them start to feel less replayable after a couple of solid nights with the group. This happened in the first game too, of course, but it’s much more annoying now with the obstacle of Crime.net possibly throwing you copy after copy of an undesirable heist that you are totally burned out on… instead of something you’d really like to do. I frankly do not understand the creative choice behind not offering better filters for this system.

While it is true that the police do not attack in such great numbers as before, they do still leave a lot of artifacts around the map, with corpses, piles of ammo, and miscellaneous gear (such as riot shields) strewn about, and I have seen the game start to chug on systems that are powerful enough to run many other contemporary games without issue. By its nature, this is probably something that’s hard for this game to overcome, but it’s a frustrating problem to have when the key resource that you need to enjoy this game to its fullest is friends who can also play it with you.

Yes, Payday 2 has in-game voice chat, and yes, you can jump into public games with strangers anytime you want. Some people might really enjoy doing so, in fact, and I don’t really mind it…. but I would much rather gather a group of 3 friends to roll with and work in tandem to complete heists. The AI team-mate can be valuable in combat because of their accuracy (though sometimes the team AI seems bewildered in a way the police AI rarely is… failing to respond even in a dire emergency) but is also frustratingly useless as they cannot transport filthy lucre, or drugs, or whatever, cannot advance mission objectives, and will occasionally blunder into unwinnable firefights against a legion of police in the middle of the street… where they can’t even be reached for a quick revive. As a result, you really want a full party, regardless of how you have to get it.

One thing to admire entirely about Payday 2 is its price point. At $29.99 on Steam (it’s also available on Xbox 360 and Playstation 3, the physical media involved means your price point will be $39.99 instead), this game has real value, though I can’t necessarily recommend it if you don’t have at least one friend who would be willing to buy the game as well and commit to playing it with you. Your mileage may vary with teaming up with strangers (I’ve had a mixed bag of results, myself) but I wouldn’t have purchased the game without friends I knew for certain would play, so I certainly won’t tell you to do it!