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aodhhinsai

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Game of the Year 2022

Optimism doesn’t feel like the prevailing vibe of 2022, in many ways it’s quite the opposite, but that can’t quash the positivity I continue to experience in my personal life and hobbies. It was a year about honestly engaging with the ways the world has changed— and the ways they’re the same as they ever were— after a dark and complicated couple of years. This could be a neutral act, but in practice I think it manifested in a positive way. As an example, one of the big trends in the games I enjoyed and how I thought/wrote about them is how they spoke to human connectedness and personal relationships. We’re just barely starting to see daylight ‘after’ the pandemic and it gave me a chance to remember how much that contact with others means to me. A majority of the games on my list this year speak to that impulse to reach out to others and build a relationship. It may be a result of abject tragedy, but I think it’s a beautiful bright spot nonetheless.

The games this year felt sparse and I was convinced it’d been a quiet year until I counted them up and realized I’d played ten fewer than my all-time high. There was definitely a continued industry hangover from COVID that was marked by delays and longer-that-usual gaps in the calendar. That didn’t stop me from playing some absolute bangers though. This has been a quality year that will stand tall even when separated from the massive all-time hits people feel have been released.

I continued to love GamePass this year and discovered some items on my list because I could take the plunge without too much risk. I also continued to enjoy Sony’s first party output— there’s no doubt that they’re in the lead with their major series. In addition to the consoles I added the PC to my regular hardware roundup courtesy of a SteamDeck.

I remember when I got the switch it seemed magical, and the SteamDeck has captured some of those good vibes. It really is a remarkable achievement and I’ve loved fiddling with every aspect of my experience. I had a blast playing classics like Tie Fighter handheld after designing my own control schemes. There will always be games I favor on the Deck but I don't think it’ll ever totally usurp the Switch unless something plays so poorly on the Switch that it’s unbearable (which, let’s be honest, could be soon even with modest indies). There’s room for both consoles in my life and I’m glad to be able to swap between them.

So, there’s my state of the union for the year. It’s one that was fairly quiet and felt like the game releases were minimal, but in retrospect it’s been pretty packed. Keep an eye out for some unmarked spoilers as you read the list and have a great 2023!

-Aodhhinsai

List items

  • Special Mention - Winner - The “Requisite Picross” Award

    This award goes to the Picross game that Jupiter released this year or, in this case, the better(?) of the two.

    Last year I acknowledged that my running bit of automatically including whichever Jupiter Picross game was released on my GOTY lists might have worn thin. Tragically that suspicion has been confirmed and I am sad to announce that this will (barring a game-changing revelation) be the final year of this special award.

    Look, Picross is good and these games are still solid but there’s no doubt that this entry was the least I’ve played one*. I think it’s a sign that my ravenous hunger/burning passion for those sweet sweet Picross puzzles has waned. Over the half a year I had S7 available to me I only did a few dozen puzzles instead of pillaging the whole game. Again, the puzzles are still good and the games are solid but I’ve just… lost the spark? I will still buy every entry like an absolute sucker but I won’t expect the same whirlwind Picross fueled fugue-state that accompanied previous entries. Godspeed, Requisite Picross Award— You’ve served me well.

    *Except for S8, but, well, you’ll see.

  • Special Mention - Winner - The “Midweek Snow Day” Award For Best Surprise

    This award goes to the game that came out of nowhere and turned out to be an absolute delight.

    It’s rare that I start a game without digging up information on it. It’s in my nature to seek out background info and opinions on a game before I start it. It’s a fun part of the process of consuming media for me. I hear about a game, get to spend some time building anticipation as I look it up and decide it seems like a good fit, and then play it. For as fun as I find this process it doesn’t often lend itself to surprise. It’s rare for me to hear a recommendation (from Waypoint Radio? I think?) and jump straight in to a game and even rarer to get hooked enough to finish it in one sitting. That’s why Beacon Pines was a true surprise.

    I think the narrative construction of Beacon Pines is fascinating, but the concept only clicked when I accepted that it was a unique visual novel rather than a non-linear choice driven Disco Elysium-alike. Although it has a few small choices the game is largely a linear experience. I had a few moments of disappointment before I accepted the nature of the narrative and could start to fully appreciate the storytelling and characterization itself.

    The initial skepticism I felt wasn’t helped by a slightly saccharine art style and tone, but after an initial tip of the cards that more is afoot (not a spoiler, this happens minutes in) I found the cozy trappings endearing. As it spiraled further and further into the story I fully locked in and absolutely had to play until it was finished. Thankfully this was possible thanks to an appropriately snackable length and unobtrusive gameplay.

    Do yourself a favor and set aside a few hours to play Beacon Pines. I think you’ll be as pleasantly surprised as I was.

  • Special Mention - Winner - The “I Know Kung-Fu” Award

    This award goes to the game that so effectively captures the essence of an action that it feels like you’ve, Neo style, gained the ability to do them in real life.

    Card Shark falls into the same groove that greats like Rockband and Guitar Hero do. They’re able to convey the nuance and complication of performing a skill while still abstracting and simplifying it enough to be fun to a layman. If you play enough plastic guitar on high difficulty there are times where you swear you could pick up the real thing and shred. That’s definitely not how any of this works but it sure *feels* like it does.

    Card Shark asks the player to take on the role of a magician/cheat by performing increasingly complex tasks under immense time pressure. You have to get good enough at these routines to do them automatically without having to stop and think. Somehow the difficulty ramps up while still being accessible. It feels like, well, a magic trick. When everything is operating at it’s peak and the player is doing well it genuinely feels like you’re performing the cheats shown on screen. Do I have the ability to do card tricks now? No! Can I perform a smoothly choreographed sequence of inputs that genuinely feels as complex and satisfying as the real thing? Oh yes.

  • Special Mention - Winner - The “Look, I Just Needed to Mention It” Award

    This award goes to the game that didn’t really fit on the list but I wanted to talk about anyway so gets a meaningless special mention anyway.

    Halo and I have a short and painless history. It was a game that I thought was the pinnacle of the medium (despite never having played it) when 13 year old me saw it plastered across every billboard and Burger King cup back in 2007. By the time I got around to playing Reach in high school I developed a much more muted opinion. I don’t think the series is bad but I just never had the rabid love for the gameplay and lore that some of my friends did. I dutifully played through Reach’s campaign and went back for Halo 3’s as well, but most of my time was spent kicking around in split-screen matches with friends while we shot the breeze. I liked it fine but it never felt that it was anything more than perfectly enjoyable. The Joe Pera-esque smile-and-nod response I’ve had to the series could be, and at times has been, interpreted as a kind of faint praise condemnation of the games. This is where Halo Infinite lucked out in its timing and landed at the exact moment in the year when I was ready to experience it with an unironic need for Halo’s specific brand of amusement™️.

    Halo Infinite is a game. Not, good, not bad, but enjoyable. The guns are nice— they make loud sounds, animate in visually interesting ways, and cause enemies’ heads to pop like ripe cherry tomatoes if aimed correctly. The open world is pretty decent but I can’t shake the feeling that the design is tentative. It’s like you can sense the team reaching for the game they wanted to make but pulling back at the last second. I found this odd considering the size of previous (beloved) Halo levels. There’s a level of second-guessing I sense in the world design that felt odd. It’s also not particularly good looking. The scenery and design are okay and stay true to that unmistakable Halo look but the character models and facial animation on the human characters is…not good. Regardless of those minor complaints the colorful art style feels unique compared to so many other series and I think they’re working as intended here. The music is also effective even though it lacks the punch of previous titles.

    For as little as I care about the lore and writing (dear lord, all the Proper Nouns, ugh) I’ve got to admit that Infinite’s emotional beats got me in the end. In this regard I think the smaller scale was effective and allowed for additional emphasis on personal stakes for the core cast that helped me connect to them— even though I’m lacking in a lot of backstory and context beyond broad beats.

    With all of these components I can see how this series got so popular even if I’m still not super drawn to it. My minor attachment to this specific game is boosted by the odd scrappiness of it. Considering how expensive the whole thing must’ve been it still felt to me more like a side story from a skunkworks team then a mainline entry. This is a positive for me since it seems to have let Infinite engage in more experimentation than a traditional numbered sequel might have been allowed. Ultimately, despite these changes, I can confirm that Halo Infinite is definitely a Halo game. It turns out that I really needed one of those this year.

  • Special Mention - Winner - The “Starchild Memorial” Award for Best Styyyyle

    This award goes to the game that knows what it wants to look and sound like and successfully brings the player along for the ride.

    Exo One is like playing through the cover of a 70’s pulp sci-fi novel in the best way possible. Like many of the abstract works of the era the game is all vibes in the best way possible. It’s tactile, rewarding, and frustrating in equal measure. Like the starchild sequence in 2001: A Space Oddity I don’t know exactly what it was doing but it sure as hell made me feel something. As of the initial posting you can find it on Gamepass. Set aside an evening, turn up the volume and turn down the lights, and just let Exo One wash over you.

  • Special Mention - Winner - The “Most Disappointed to be Disappointed” Award

    This award goes to the game that forced me to wade through multiple layers of disappointment and ennui.

    As mentioned above, Picross S7 laid bare the fact that I wasn’t engaging with picross in the way I had been for the last five years. It wasn’t until S8 came out later in the year that the last nail was sunk into the coffin. This is the first time that I hadn’t completed a single game mode before the subsequent game came out. I could try to downplay this by noting that the once yearly release schedule has shifted to twice yearly but the damage is already done.

    So why does this count as my most disappointing game? There are two primary factors:

    1) This game forced me to reckon with the diminishing effect one of my favorite series has on me even though I find little fault with the games themselves.

    2) Despite the fairly average year I found very few games I played disappointed me. In a vacuum this is a positive but it only served to highlight the fact that my lack of response to Picross in 2022 bummed me the hell out.

  • Special Mention - Winner - The “You CAN Go Home Again” Award

    This award goes to the game that against all odds managed to overcome series fatigue and the passage of time itself to offer a warm nostalgic trip down memory lane.

    Back in 2005 I was psyched to pop the first Lego Star Wars into my GBA SP. I loved both Lego and Star Wars so this was a natural combo for an 11 year old to latch onto. In retrospect it was a humble lil’ curiosity that did a fair bit with a modest budget and limited hardware. 17 years later it’s kind of shocking to play through the completed trilogy of trilogies on my PS5– especially since I had a profound nostalgic experience. There have been so many Lego games that it’s been easy to ignore them and let them fall into the background noise of the games industry. I’ve kept fresh by playing very few of them in the intervening years; Two on the DS and one Lego marvel game courtesy of PS plus almost a decade ago.

    It caught me completely off guard when I booted it up and… teared up at the attract screen and menu build? Lego, specifically Star Wars Lego sets, meant a lot to me growing up and now with my kiddo rapidly aging towards Lego use it hit me pretty hard. It also helps that the game itself represents an ambitious new direction for the series with more open levels and less linearity. I had a ball sitting there with my kiddo watching the action and if you have a similar history with the series I can’t recommend it highly enough.

  • Special Mention - Winner - The “Can’t Go Home Again” Award

    This award goes to the game that has plenty of nostalgic value but just doesn’t connect on a later playthrough.

    These remastered versions of the GTA trilogy look phenomenal. Some people didn’t love the style but everything has the look of what early aughts filmmakers thought games looked like. The remastered style looks like a fake CG render of a game for use in a show or movie. I think that’s kind of rad. That said, I found that this lead to an odd dissonance that I just couldn’t get over. Everything looked amazing and controlled better than the original versions, but that had the unfortunate knock-on effect of raising my expectations for animations, world design, density, and other modern comforts. As a result the stark emptiness of the worlds jumped out at me and I realized my nostalgia just isn’t enough to paper over the antiquated aspects of the games.

    As a comparison I booted up GTA IV on a Series S with frame boost. I was stunned by how much better everything looked and felt with more modern design and animation quality— even though the smeary graphics and desaturated world look like ass in comparison to the slick, upscale Definitive Trilogy. Everything in the Trilogy feels incredibly lifeless to modern eyes. Mini games haven’t ever made me feel like an open world is vibrant or cool. That’s where I look for cleaver systems, entertaining AI, and detailed worlds.

    I’m VERY curious to see how I feel about GTA V’s world once a new game comes out. Despite the story that has aged poorly I’m in love with GTA V;s open world and have spent a lot of time there in the decade since its release. I can’t help but wonder if a new game will make the world look as dull and lifeless as the move from San Andreas to GTA IV? Or GTA IV to V? I feel like we may be reaching a confluence point in ‘modern’ game design where many older games no longer age like those from the aughts and earlier. Regardless, the games in this Trilogy are a tough sell in 2022.

  • Special Mention - Winner - The “Play Unpacking” Award

    This award goes to Unpacking, a game you should play.

    Every year I highlight a game that you should drop everything and just go play. This year there’s no doubt that game is Unpacking. It’s a masterclass in how gameplay and narrative can work symbiotically in games in a way you can’t find in any other medium. The sorting/decorating gameplay is a hoot with sharp controls and the length is perfect. Everything comes together into a really beautiful experience that left me misty-eyed and ready to recommend it to everyone I know.

  • Special Mention - Winner - The “Dead Behind the Eyes” Award

    This award goes to the game that, regardless of other merits, lacks anything resembling a charismatic connection to the player.

    Launch games are always an iffy proposition. Historically half of them are competent showpieces for new hardware that are later overshadowed and half are forgettable dreck destined for the Walmart bargain rack. Rarely you’ll see a launch game that sticks in the pantheon of greats or, in the case of Ryse: Son of Rome, a game so aggressively blah that it removes itself from humanity’s collective consciousness.

    It is so unbelievably boring. Hollow as hollow can be. The only thing of interest here is the fact that a launch game from the start of that generation now feels as creaky to me as the original 2005 releases did for the 360 gen. In that way it’s a true successor to the games of the grimdark sepia hellscape era of 2005-2008. Emotionally flat characters motivated by solely by revenge and rage are portrayed in yesterday’s vision of eye blistering realism. It sucks. My only consolation is that I paid nothing to download it through Gamepass, bounce violently off of it, and delete it.

  • Game of the Year - #1

    When you first see Tunic the comparisons between it and 2D Zelda games are obvious. After finishing it I think the comparison does a disservice to Tunic. Those old games are phenomenal (some of my all-time favorites) but the way that Tunic harnesses beautiful art, music, and masterful puzzle/world design transcends the constraints of simple homage. Every bouncy little animation is perfect, the puzzles are punishing but logical, the secrets make you feel stupid until the moment you overcome them. It feels fussed over, worried about, in the way that only games made by one or two people can feel.

    Having finished the game and solved all of the major secrets I think Tunic is an absolute masterpiece. The story, sense of mystery, and exploration-based gameplay come together into something totally unique. Getting a manual page never felt anything less than revelatory and piecing together the abilities you could have been using from moment one was mind blowing every time. It sparked the same excitement I got from sitting in the back seat of the car with a new game, opening the box and pouring over the manual while I waited to get home and play. It’s such a stereotypical “back in my day” thing, but I miss those retail boxes and the feelies that came with them. Manuals, warranty/warning papers (always thrown away, cmon), and even ads for other games. Tunic really sparked a Ratatouille childhood flashback moment for me with its reverence for this stuff.

    The reality is that my life isn’t as simple and streamlined as it was in those days and my time to engage with difficult games is limited. With that in mind, my ability to enjoy Tunic was bolstered by the generous no-fail mode that allowed me to engage with the combat while shifting the emphasis over to the mystery solving and exploration that piqued my interest. It was a real godsend. It makes the game infinitely more accessible for players who don’t want to/can’t manage the uber-punishing combat. I can’t wait to see what comes next for Tunic. There are endgame hints at something new coming down the pike, and I can’t wait to jump in as soon as they’re here.

    Ultimately what catapults Tunic to the top of the list is the fact that it wrapped me up like a warm blanket and made me feel things I didn’t realize I still could. I felt wonder and awe in a way I rarely have as an adult and I also felt a deep nostalgia for the experience of getting/playing games as a kid (something I rarely if ever feel). I’m so glad a game like Tunic can come around and hit me just right to provide a phenomenal experience like this.

    I also want to shout-out to Gamepass again for the ability to play on day one. I was able to play immediately before too much information got out into the wild and didn’t have to worry about second guessing whether the gameplay would be too much of a turnoff before I played. Now that I’ve completed it I will certainly buy a copy for my collection on PS5 if only to support its developer Andrew Shouldice and his studio Isometricorp. Don’t hesitate to pick it up.

  • Game of the Year - #10

    I usually can’t click with Musou games but I’ve tried so many times. I’ve tried original flavor Three Kindoms, I’ve tried streamlined IP tie-ins like Hyrule Warriors, and I’ve tried the creative spins on the format like Persona 5 strikers. None of them, even Strikers (which promised more time with my some of my favorite characters) could break through. I know there has to be a reason why they’re so wildly popular so I’m driven to try this series over and over despite my misgivings.

    When I sat staring at the download for the Three Hopes demo I wondered if I was once again setting myself up to sink an hour or two into a black hole. Then something unprecedented happened; I played an hour, then two, and then completed the demo. This culminated in an out of body experience as I watched myself purchase a Musou game for full price knowing full well that I’d never completed the first act let alone a whole game. After that things continued to click as I settled into a cozy rhythm and cruised to the end.

    It turns out that the extra strategy layer that Three Hopes introduces was exactly what I’ve been missing. Both the in-battle strategy and the camp development layers helped push me forward through the story and provide incentive to make it through gameplay that still doesn’t quite do it for me. Those additions also perfectly complemented seeing characters I love from Three Houses. The game makes smart adjustments to the characterization of the students to reflect the ‘what-if’ version of events presented in the main story— even if that story is pretty barebones. It’s a neat trick that leans into the strengths of Three Houses and its characters.

    The other factor I have to acknowledge the dearth of new games that surrounded my time with Three Hopes. There’s no doubt that it was the perfect time to pick up a game that I still could have bounced off of. It allowed me to forgive a multitude of sins and ignore some gameplay and polish issues that I felt around the edges. That shouldn’t be a disqualifying factor and doesn’t change the fact that I minmaxed my way through the game and had a ball. I won’t be sitting down to play other games in this series anytime soon, but I finally found the answer to why this series has so many diehard fans.

  • Game of the Year - #9

    They got me. From the moment they had me play that dopey Hooked on Classics minigame I cracked a smile. I know that Gran Turismo as a series can come off as antiseptic to some (and, honestly, to me before GT7), but I’m a sucker for the absolute tire-kissing reverence this game shows cars. I know it’s corny as hell, but it feels like some of the mediocre but loveable car museum documentaries I grew up with. I love cars, I love racing, and I love taking it just a bit too seriously. Gah! Even the smooth jazz does it for me in this context.

    In the past I considered myself a Forza loyalist with Forza 4 as my high watermark. It seemed much livelier than the stuffy atmosphere of Gran Turismo. It was surprising to pick up the latest Forza and discover that it’s as dead behind the eyes as a game can be and that GT7 is packed to the gills with dweeby touches that are obviously the work of people with genuine (and occasionally cringy, sure) love for the subject matter.

    I’m also in a different place than I was a decade ago. I preferred Forza’s slightly more forgiving physics model to GT’s aggressive realism. In the years since I’ve started to look for models that require me to drive like I mean it: Don’t crank the wheel under braking, don’t floor it, and really don't use other cars as big crash pads to slow you down as you head into corners. It’s a zen practice that I appreciate whether I win or find myself sliding into a wall in a way that will certainly end my race.

    As a final note, I should mention that I haven’t bought currency and I’ve largely avoided grinding for it in-game. I also wasn’t playing daily during the big outage, so many of the huge issues that people have with GT7 (rightfully so) haven’t affected me much. That’s not an excuse for some obvious economic balance issues, but it does explain why they rolled off of me.

  • Game of the Year - #8

    Sometimes the simplest concepts coupled with wicked good execution can punch way above their weight. Teardown asks the brave question “what if stuff blow up good” and answers with recklessly enthusiastic abandon. I’m amazed that the tech works as well as it does, especially since I’m playing it on my Steam Deck. Teardown belongs to a proud tradition of games where a significant drop in frame rate is a sign you’re doing something right, not that something is technically wrong. In that way it’s a perfect hybrid of modern technological marvels and the types of sandbox games I loved as a kid.

    The main campaign is a hoot, with an equal balance of puzzling, strategy, and platforming to keep you on your toes. I love the loop of preparation, practice, and execution that it requires to be successful. It takes what could be a barren (but entertaining) sandbox and elevates it from toy to honest-to-goodness game. Even better, the story is unobtrusive in the best way. It keeps a narrative through-line running through the campaign that is engaging without being too heavy handed or obtrusive. I appreciated the fact that it provided that narrative framework without stealing too much time— the devs obviously knew what their strengths were and kept a laser focus.

    Beyond the campaign lies the long-term value of Teardown: Mods. Every addition from the Steam Workshop was a little marvel that left me grinning from ear to ear. The extra levels, tools, and items add enough extra content to inspire dozens of extra hours spent tootling around seeing what new destruction you can cause. You can also take these mods into the campaign, which adds an additional layer of enjoyment on subsequent playthroughs.

    If you’ve got a device that can run it don’t hesitate to go and pick up Teardown. It’s worth every single penny.

  • Game of the Year - #7

    Horizon: Zero Dawn was a game I loved in the moment and then almost immediately felt fade away. It made my top ten that year but by the time I got around to making my list it had been relegated to the back half. That’s no reflection on the game itself, but instead of a phenomenon I’ve seen a thousand times: Good things in the moment aren’t automatically destined to become personal favorites.

    Once I Started Forbidden West it was nice to see the characters again, and I remembered my fondness for the setting and visual aesthetics, but I was still a bit skeptical of the need for this sequel. I was happy with where the first game wrapped up and actively memory-holed the fact there was a weak sequel hook after(?) the credits. It seemed like evidence of Sony’s need to slowly churn away at prestige sequels now that their tentpole franchises have been established. I felt that way through Forbidden West’s lengthy opening chapters where there isn’t much to write home about. I was hours into the game, none of the story was particularly interesting, and it definitely hadn’t justified the existence of a full sequel. That all turned on a dime when I hit a moment that so fundamentally changed my expectation of what Forbidden West’s story that I was immediately strapped in and psyched to keep going. I don’t know that I’ve ever played a game that had this sharp a hook moment.

    Once my interest had been secured I continued on through a game that is pure meat and potatoes competent. The fiddly bows n’ traps gameplay is totally fine but often left me ready to return to exploration and traversal as I neared the end of encounters. I found those systems more interesting purely on the basis of how pretty the world is. There are a lot of cool visuals to discover in Forbidden West and I found myself favoring the gameplay systems that let me engage with the world itself rather than the robo-animals or enemy units in it.

    The larger concern I had heading into the game was about the creeping burnout that surrounds this saturated open-world genre. It could wear me down, and it has in some cases (Ubisoft), but there were just enough points where I saw Guerrilla step back from absolute map icon insanity that I was able to explore without too much fatigue. That’s not to say that Forbidden West isn’t overstuffed with content (ugh, hate calling it that)— it definitely is. The trophy list seems to be a tacit acknowledgement that there’s too much in the game to ask of the average player. It’s there if you want it but it isn’t required to get the platinum trophy. It was a straightforward endeavor and didn’t drive me to complete all side content. To be honest I likely won’t ever go back to finish the missions and tasks I left undone after I platinumed it. Six years ago when I couldn’t afford to buy many games this would have been a game I tried to wring dry, but that’s not where I’m at now. For its part Forbidden West seems completely content to let me engage with the story— even get the platinum— without hassle, and then leave thousands of hours of human effort in side missions and collectibles behind.

    Forbidden West builds to a final act that’s too much setup for the next game to be entirely satisfying but it hardly matters compared to the highlights I had before. I’ll be hard pressed to forget my time swimming around the ruins of a Vegas casino as a massive aquatic monster hovered ominously overhead, or soaring above the Golden Gate ruins in the endgame. It tracks perfectly with what I’ve come to expect from the Horizon series: Entertaining games I care about in the moment, remember fondly for a while, then rarely remember at all. I think that’s absolutely okay.

  • Game of the Year - #6

    Shadowrun has always been a series I was aware of on the periphery only and I had a serious misunderstanding of what the game actually was. When I heard it brought up in the context of turn-based strategy games my interest was piqued enough to take a look at the standalone version of Dragonfall on GamePass.

    What I found was a (relatively) bite sized and thoroughly enjoyable endeavor. The turn-based combat system was engaging and had enough depth to encourage repeat playthroughs. While Dragonfall doesn’t have the level of progression and depth that I was expecting, I can’t begrudge it. It clearly achieves the goals that it sets out to reach. Since those goals are mostly about digitizing a tabletop system to I can forgive some of the rigidity I occasionally encountered.

    After my first foray into the setting I definitely enjoy the hybridization of cyberpunk and fantasy tropes— even with the areas in which the narrative seem to chafe at the game systems (for example, why does the character creator reinforce stereotypes the story pushes back against? Orcs are INT stat limited? What?). The story and characters were super engaging and I really loved the matter-of-fact way shadowruns are presented in-universe. Mark another entry into my ‘just doing our job’ hall of fame.

    It would be easy to look at Shadowrun: Dragonfall and spend too much time thinking about what I wish was here (deeper/ more varied upgrade tree, larger branching narrative, etc) but that does a disservice to how effectively the game achieves what it sets out to do. You don’t need those very expensive extra features because the game that’s here is invested in deeply personal stakes and relationships. You want to connect with every character in your crew and if your choices ruin your relationship with them it’s devastating. You don’t need massive diverging paths because no alternate endings matter if your friends aren’t right there with you. It’s a neat trick and I’m so glad I got to experience it this year.

  • Game of the Year - #5

    My expectations for this game literally could not have been lower. How could it possibly be any good? Look at the ingredients and context: Every other Marvel game in the MCU era has been a bit of a train wreck, the Guardians are edgelord-y enough that writing them without being insufferable seems tough, and the studio had no history with a game of this scope. It just didn’t seem like a good bet. Even some rumblings about its surprisingly good story didn’t persuade me until I found it on sale for a heavy discount.

    The gameplay does absolutely nothing for me but, despite my skepticism, I found that I cared about the story from the get go. I pulled this year’s signature move and dropped the difficulty all the way down and, while it didn’t improve the combat, it at least made it completely trivial to get past. With each chapter the story hit a more confident and entertaining stride. I was genuinely shocked by the time I got to the chapters involving a Space Cop and her daughter (I'll leave things general). They established story threads and characterization that were so deftly handled I was left bewildered how this could be a game based on the Guardians of the Galaxy. Those sorts of moments continued throughout and were never any less enjoyable. You’ll be playing through well written but standard banter and then suddenly BAM stumble into a weighty conversation. Realizing that the game was going to take significant time to center Drax and Peter chatting next to a scenic vista in Knowwhere about finding meaning in loss was an absolute treat. These moments were poignant and unexpected in the best way.

    I think it’s meaningful that this is the first game in ages I played with headphones and no other podcasts or videos playing in the background. It demanded my attention even through the mediocre combat. The voice acting superb all around and it helps the story hit great heights for ANY game, let alone a Marvel tie-in.

  • Game of the Year - #4

    I played Cyberpunk 2077 last year before any patches and it was fine-ish. Technically speaking it was an absolute shitshow that ran like garbage and crashed like clockwork, but the game itself was serviceable. I didn’t even end up with any of the spectacularly entertaining glitches that other people had been showing off (even the tech issues were a bit boring). In the end it didn’t merit a single mention on my 2021 end of year list even after I’d set a space aside to talk about it— I just couldn’t dredge up any interesting things to say. That’s why it’s particularly weird that I have it sitting here on my list for 2022. I knew I should probably talk about it since it featured heavily in my year but I kept going back and forth on how I wanted to include it. I set aside a special award and thought that would be enough but it just didn’t sit right. The game I played this year (the patched next-gen version on PS5) was so different from what I experienced last year that it almost felt like a different game entirely and I had written too many words about it to brush aside. GOTY list rules are stupid and shouldn’t be taken too seriously but it felt wrong to include a game I’d already completed on my main list (especially this high up) when I usually reserve spots for new (to me) games from that year. Ultimately I couldn’t shake the fact that I’d had a fundamentally different (and positive) experience with Cyberpunk 2077 on the PS5. Plus, I can’t ignore the fact that I write this list and can do whatever I want.

    When I played Cyberpunk at release I chose the path that I start with in many games: A silent sneaky type with a few points set aside to respond to opportunities to snipe at a distance. In retrospect this was a fatal mistake. In my new playthrough I went all-in on quick hacks and the game opened up for me. It was laughably easy but much more engaging then the lackluster gunplay that had bored me originally. This decision didn’t happen in a vacuum, Tim Rogers’ insanely comprehensive multi-feature-length review inspired another look at the game with that play style and, sure enough, it was better.

    I don’t know what myriad changes have been made since I last played but they added up to a world that was more heavily populated and interesting. There was an extra layer of nuance in this playthrough that helped breath some additional life into what had be a very dead open world. It still isn’t as dense and lively as heavy hitters like GTA V, but it didn’t feel completely dead behind the eyes this time. I ran into few technical issues and even the writing came across better than it did last time around when coupled with better visuals, fewer tech issues, and some rebalancing and edits. As much as this game now resembles a case study in the Ship of Theseus and for as many areas as it genuinely misses good opportunities I had a fantastic time with it. I finally got to immerse myself in the kind of world I had been hoping for in the lead up to the game’s release. If it had been released in this state back in 2021 I’m sure that I would have placed it similarly on that year’s list. I’m glad I went back and I’m sure I’ll remember my time with the game fondly— something I couldn’t say about my previous playthrough that was barely worth remembering at all.

  • Game of the Year - #3

    I’ve spent a long time coming to terms with the fact that as I get older and my free time gets more limited it’s movies and TV that have been increasingly edged out of my life. Games being my primary interest doesn’t hurt my feelings at all, but there’s a small Film Studies Minor part of my brain that takes pause. I bring this up because I have a history of consuming copious amounts of snooty art films and ponderous tone pieces. Why does that matter in this context? Because it may have given me additional patience for Ragnarok’s ‘intentional’ early-game pacing.

    Look, God of War: Ragnarok isn’t an art game and I don’t want to imply that it is, but I really don’t mind the story taking more time than the usual easy-to-digest tentpole game. I dig the tone and characterization that it expertly crafts over the course of its lengthy campaign. Virtually every character sees rich development and change through the game in ways that are genuinely affecting. If the 2018 reboot proved that Kratos could be rewritten, Ragnarok proves that he can grow over the course of a single game. I don’t think there’s any comparison between the two and Ragnarok stands tall as a narrative triumph.

    Over in gameplay land things are more of a mixed success. The action combat is still as tactile and satisfying as it was in 2018 but added characters and nuance flesh out an already great system. Hurfing the axe at some lil’ freak’s skull never ceases to be entertaining. Unfortunately the surrounding UI and RPG elements are mind numbingly terrible. The interface is a confusing mess and the menus on menus on menus don’t make it easier to understand the 80 different kinds of stat boosting trinkets that can be equipped. I wish that the equipment system could be collapsed down a couple of layers. Simplifying things into armor *set* upgrades and removing the different charms and trinkets would go a long way towards making loot management less anxiety inducing.

    I came out of 2018 with the first game topping my list. In retrospect I’ve come to see that as a small error when its stacked up against the longevity of other games on that list. Despite those misgivings the truth is that it still would have been in the top 3 of that year and playing Ragnarok has reminded me of why I like the (rebooted) series. I care about what happens to these characters because Ragnarok took the solid foundation established by the reboot and building something truly wonderful.

  • Game of the Year - #2

    At least once a year there’s a game that seems to be laser targeted at my particular interests. I get to do a menial job in a fantastical future setting? Great. It has a solid grasp on labor issues and collective action in a dystopian techno-corporate hell? Heck yeah. Hardspace Shipbreaker is a superb example of a potentially niche game that’s given enough resources to be polished to a mirror shine.

    Here’s where I need to make an admission. Despite the extremely accurate assessment of this game and what makes it work over at Waypoint, I still played on the difficulty that removed the time pressure. Renata was particularly outspoken about how that compromised some of the core themes of the game and she’s absolutely right. But I’ve experienced those themes through podcast discussions and articles and can enjoy the game in the only way that works with my current schedule. It’s a much more meditative experience and allows me to relax and spend 60-90 minutes picking a ship clean. I know this isn’t the intended way to play but it still provides ample engagement with both gameplay and narrative.

    One of the knock-on effects of this is an amplification of the sheer terror that comes from slipping up. I’ve had two or three ships go by with no issue, three hours of game time, only to make some amateur mistake (not verifying depressurization, tagging a fuel tank with the cutter) that scares the shit out of me as I watch my character smashed against a bulkhead and thrown into the darkness of space.

    Now more than ever a game about organizing collective action against overwhelming odds resonates with me and I appreciate the number of games we’ve gotten this year that tackle labor issues directly. If nothing else I appreciate a happy ending in this context.
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