Like the best revivals, Ninja Gaiden: Ragebound feels like it could've come from a different era. Crafted by Blasphemous developer The Game Kitchen, Ragebound is a deliberately old-school action game that captures the essence of the classic Ninja Gaiden series, with sharp gameplay, challenging levels, and gloriously retro visuals and music that would feel right at home on the Super NES. It also builds upon this foundation with some smart new mechanics, making it more than a mere imitation of earlier games.

Rather than putting you in control of series mainstay Ryu, Ragebound follows two new protagonists: Kenji Mozu, an untested trainee of the Hayabusa Clan; and Kumori, a mysterious kunoichi from the rival Black Spider Clan. When Kenji steps in to save Hayabusa Village from a sudden demon onslaught, the pair's destinies become entwined and they form an uneasy alliance, using their combined abilities to stand against the demonic forces threatening the world.

Like so many other aspects of the game, Ragebound's plot is pure Ninja Gaiden: scattershot, nonsensical, and ultimately inconsequential. In their quest to stop the Demon Lord from being unleashed, Kenji and Kumori travel to various sites throughout Japan, battling grotesque monsters, commandeering the occasional vehicle, and eventually becoming entangled in the CIA's affairs. It's knowingly silly stuff, and it affords the developers plenty of opportunities to whisk players through a range of memorable set pieces, from ancient Japanese villages and castles to busy construction sites, flooded pirate coves, and secret military facilities.

Dead Take feels more like an artist's point of view of the unsaid traumas and private despair that plague the lives of actors than a horror adventure game. It is still very much a video game driven by rewarding puzzle mechanics, but the meat of the experience is the insight it gives of what it can feel like to be an actor. It's altogether more disturbing than spooky, and although certain supernatural elements do dampen the puzzle box nature and horror of the overall game, Dead Take is still a powerful, emotion-driven descent into one man's psyche.

Experienced entirely in first-person, Dead Take has you play as an actor named Chase who breaks into and explores the seemingly abandoned mansion of Cain, a famous Hollywood producer. There are signs of a party, but all the lights are off and an eerie stillness hangs over the darkened hallways and strangely shaped rooms. Chase is looking for his friend, Vinny, another actor, who successfully landed the role of Willie in an upcoming movie--a role that Chase had also been gunning for. As you guide Chase through the mansion, you'll slowly uncover what transpired behind the scenes during the movie's pre-production, learning how so many people's lives were destroyed in service to the damaged and traumatized ego of one man.

It's a haunting tale brought to life by full-motion video (FMV) recordings of powerhouse actors in the industry. Neil Newbon gives Chase an almost psychopathic desperation to his need to land the role of Willie, while Ben Starr hides Vinny's nepotism behind charismatic suave and charm to produce a completely different type of creepiness. The unnerving and disgusting battle behind the scenes to determine the leading lady opposite Willie and cover up a "problematic" woman for a more "agreeable" one is explored through the fantastic (and subsequently, deeply uncomfortable to watch) performances of Alanah Pearce and Laura Bailey. And at one point, Jane Perry delivers a performance of Cain's wife so powerful and deeply chilling, I doubt I'll ever forget it.

Assessing Grounded 2 in a world in which the original exists is tricky. Grounded went 1.0 in 2022 and enjoyed many updates both before and after that milestone. Because of the sequel's changes to some of the game's foundational elements, I won't be at all surprised if Grounded 2 is eventually a much better game. Some of those changes already make it difficult to return to the first game. However, the sequel is also without some of the original's essential features for now, too, meaning this game about shrunken heroes needs more time to grow bigger and better than the original.

Grounded 2 wastes no time getting its band of adolescent heroes shrunk back down to the size of insects, opening with a hurried, "Oops, I did it again" kind of story beat. Max, Willow, Hoops, and Pete are slightly older and a little more vulgar in their teen years, but once more find themselves fighting to survive in the wilderness of a world where bugs don't just sting or bite; they aim to kill.

Though Grounded 2 does occasionally play like a horror game, such as when you're traveling at night without a torch and the glowing eyes of a scorpion or wolf spider suddenly stalk your path ahead, its best trait is one it naturally carries over from the first game: its childlike spirit. Whereas so many survival-crafting games are bleak, sometimes grueling affairs telling thematically dark tales with muted color palettes, Grounded's world is vibrant and silly, colorful and whimsical, and that's a difference I truly adore. The sun-soaked Brookhaven Park gives you a whole new world to explore, decorated with a familiar sense of exploration.

When I first played Tales of the Shire back in September 2024, I left the experience disappointed yet hopeful. It had a lot of issues, yes, but it also had a lot of potential. There was a clear reverence for both Lord of the Rings and the life-sim genre on display, and considering the game had been delayed until the following year, it felt like both the developers and I were on the same page when it came to the game being undercooked. Imagine my surprise, then, when I booted up the launch version of Tales of the Shire and found the experience more or less unchanged.

Wētā Workshop's Tales of the Shire feels incomplete. Gameplay is limited and monotonous, its story and characters are forgettable, performance is very rough, and while there's some charm to the game's clunky-looking world and the hobbits who inhabit it, more often than not, the visuals come across as low-quality and dated rather than whimsical. Despite playing it on two different consoles--Nintendo Switch and Steam Deck--both experiences suffered from numerous bugs and visual hiccups. While its mechanics are fine enough and there are some cute ideas nestled within, Tales of the Shire is regrettably unpolished and unengaging--and considering how populated the cozy game genre is, you'd be hard pressed to find a reason to play it in its current state.

Set in the village of Bywater (though it should be noted that the "village" part is hotly contested by its residents and serves as the crux of the game), Tales of the Shire sees you take on the role of a hobbit leaving the town of Bree to start a new life somewhere peaceful and pastoral. Though the game's character creator is not particularly robust, it's also not egregiously limited, and allowed me to create a charmingly plump hobbit with a mess of dark, curly hair, thick lashes, and two minimally hair-covered feet. Using the game's suggested hobbit names, I named my maiden fair Jessamine--a clever play on my own name– and climbed aboard the carriage of a lanky, bearded wizard who was definitely not Gandalf--wink wink. From there, we rode in what would be the first of the game's many awkward quiets to Bywater.

For my money, Pac-Man: Circle is the standout episode of Amazon's anthology series, Secret Level. While the other 14 episodes felt like elongated commercials for the games they were based on, Pac-Man: Circle put an unexpected spin on Namco's iconic character, completely reimagining the pellet-gobbling yellow ball by introducing some harrowing violence and body horror to the equation. It was bold and imaginative, and as it turns out, still an extended commercial for an upcoming game.

Bandai Namco announced Shadow Labyrinth just a few days after Secret Level's release, and like that episode, this 2D Metroidvania maintains the darker take on the classic character. Unfortunately, it fumbles the execution with a dull, opaque, and ultimately forgettable story, while frustrating, one-note combat and egregious checkpointing are further blemishes on what is a disappointing reinvention of the 45-year-old character.

If you haven't seen Pac-Man: Circle beforehand, fear not. The 12-minute episode helps establish Shadow Labyrinth's basic premise, but it isn't required viewing. Either way, you're probably going to feel lost, as Shadow Labyrinth's story quickly devolves into a confluence of cryptic dialogue layered with tropes, sci-fi jargon, technobabble, and bloated self-seriousness.

Bungie had a lot to prove going into Destiny 2: The Edge of Fate. After a year marred by shock layoffs, the delay of its upcoming shooter, Marathon, following poor player feedback during betas, and less-than-favorable views about Destiny’s monetization system, all eyes were on the studio to see where it would take its most beloved franchise next. 2024’s Destiny 2 expansion, The Final Shape, was one of the series’ most successful. It beautifully and coherently tied up a decade’s worth of story, culminating in a tense and exciting battle against the biggest, baddest Big Bad that the universe had ever seen: The Witness.

Naturally, following such a satisfying and full-circle conclusion, Destiny players were concerned about what a new saga would look like. The seasonal content that followed The Final Shape was lacklustre at best, with major character deaths thrown in seemingly for the shock factor rather than meaningfully contributing to the narrative. As a result, player numbers plummeted to some of the lowest that Destiny 2 has ever seen. Bungie’s best-in-class narrative team seemed to be floundering, so when I jumped into The Edge of Fate, I was skeptical, to say the least. I need not have worried. Well, not for the narrative aspect, anyway. From a gameplay perspective, there are a lot of concerning stumbles.

The 14-mission campaign is monotonous, at best. While Bungie has completely reworked the armor and gear systems--more on that later--the best aspects of it are locked behind the now-trademark Destiny 2 grind. With your power level reset and the weapons in your Vault effectively powerless, Bungie claimed this was to put everyone on an even footing ahead of the new saga, but in reality it feels like years of work and thousands of hours of grinding for the best weapons was a pointless endeavour.

After Hideo Kojima's Silent Hills fizzled out as a project, leaving the free mood piece P.T. as the only concrete work ever to be tied to Konami's revival project, it inspired a slew of P.T. copycats. This trend has stretched on for years, and can still be seen today. Focusing on looping residential hallways in first-person while ghosts poke their heads out at scripted moments, many creators loved P.T. but often took the wrong lessons from the legendary playable teaser. At first glance, Luto is the latest in a long line of P.T. wannabes, but it doesn't take long for it to stand out from the pack as an especially unpredictable and unconventional horror story.

In Luto, you play a character stuck in an emotional rut and a literal loop. Waking to a smashed bathroom mirror, protagonist Sam exits into an L-shaped hallway, passes some locked doors, heads down the stairs, and out the front door. The next day, Sam wakes to a smashed bathroom mirror, exits into an L-shaped hallway, passes some locked doors, heads down the stairs, and out the front door. The next day--well, you get it. But where so many games struggle to distance themselves from Kojima's original blueprint, Luto takes this kernel of an idea and expands on it in creative, and sometimes wondrous, ways.

I originally played a demo of Luto a few years ago, and I was surprised to hear a narrator has since been attached to this horror story. The voice of an almost gratingly upbeat British man gives the game the sense of something more like The Stanley Parable, which rings only truer when the narrator seems to comment on what I'm doing with reactivity and near-omniscience. I hated this addition to the game at first. The creaks of the floorboards in the empty house, once so eerie in the demo, were now drowned out by a narrator who seemed to spoonfeed me the story. Why did they spoil its tense atmosphere with this chatterbox?

As someone who has studied, created, and loved art for the majority of her life, I don't mean it lightly when I say that Chinese landscape paintings are among the most beautiful works I've had the privilege to view. Although this can be said of virtually all art, landscapes--be them from the Tang, Song, Yuan, or Ming Dynasties--have a distinctly extraordinary ability to convey the history, politics, and philosophy of a land and people defined by resilience. Just as the imperial stamps often found adorning these works reflect the distribution and transition of wealth and power throughout China's storied history, the content of these paintings is often metaphorical, and reflects the fears, values, and culture of people I'd otherwise never know.

One of my favorite of these paintings is Ma Yuan's "Dancing and Singing (Peasants Returning From Work)," which is not only gorgeous, but does a remarkable job of showcasing Ma Yuan's prowess as a formally trained, fourth-generation painter, as well as the self-expression that would ultimately cement him as one of the artists China's Ma-Xia school would be named after. In this piece, thick-trunked trees give way to wisplike branches; an ever-encroaching fog rolls across the foothills; powerful mountains tower above temple rooftops; and masterful ax-cut strokes, somehow, carve mountains out of silk. It's a truly memorable piece, and as such, I mean it as a high compliment when I say that, in many ways, Wuchang: Fallen Feathers reminds me of it.

Part of this, of course, is because the world of Wuchang: Fallen Feathers' is gorgeous. Across my 30 or so hours with the game, I never once tired of admiring its gnarled trees, mist-soaked mountains, dilapidated temples, and all the winding paths that led me through them. But it's more than that. Like Ma Yuan's "Dancing and Singing," the debut title from Chinese studio Leenzee does a wonderful job of interpreting and reconstructing generations of soulslikes while also adding its own flourishes, as well as showcasing a sliver of the Ming Dynasty's legacy, even if it's largely fictitious. Furthermore, combat that feels fantastic, level design that fosters curiosity, great art direction, and robust systems and customization options that ensure flexibility all make Wuchang shine. Although the overall experience isn’t particularly transformative and the game suffers from dramatic shifts in difficulty, most of the time, Wuchang's moment-to-moment gameplay makes it a great experience and an easy title to recommend to soulslike fans.

What's the measure of a new Sims 4 expansion pack at this point? After 11 years and dozens of free and paid DLC releases, it's easy to imagine that we've seen it all, that we may be past the point where a new release can dramatically alter the fundamentals of the Sims 4 experience. But the latest pack, Enchanted by Nature, proves that expectation is faulty thanks to its mix of compelling fairy gameplay, a uniquely verdant new world to live in, and the ability to live self-sufficiently in the woods. Yeah, this pack is different.

Since most of the worlds in The Sims 4 are familiar-looking city environments, it's always at least a little bit exciting when we get something more distinctive, like Chestnut Ridge in Horse Ranch or Mt. Komorebi in Snowy Escape. Innisgreen, a lush world based on Ireland, is another location that definitely fits that bill, as it's more like a large region than a singular town or city, thanks to its unique layout.

Innisgreen has three distinctive neighborhoods: the Coast of Adhmor is the local town, Sprucederry Grove is a sort of wooded suburb, and Everdew is a colorful magical forest with a buildable lot that sits on top of a giant tree. That variation from neighborhood to neighborhood is itself a unique aspect of Innisgreen--none of the previous Sims 4 worlds have this type of variety within themselves.

The people yearn for college football. After an 11-year hiatus, EA's collegiate football series returned last year and quickly set US records as the best-selling sports game of all time. That's no mean feat, but EA Orlando isn't resting on its laurels with EA Sports College Football 26. The latest game in the series has its flaws, but ultimately improves upon its predecessor in a multitude of ways, with modes like Dynasty, Road to Glory, and the game's renewed emphasis on rivalries honing in on what makes the college football experience unique when compared to Madden and other professional sports games.

All of this starts with the presentation. Whether it's 100,000 fans belting out Mr. Brightside inside The Big House or Virginia Tech's players emerging from the tunnel to the pounding drums and iconic riffs of Enter Sandman, there's an impressive attention to detail that ensures almost all of the 136 schools in the game feel both authentic and singular to their specific college traditions, pageantry, and stadium atmosphere. There are significantly more pre-game runouts than before, with many of the smaller teams now stepping onto the field with their own individual rituals included. Some of the larger teams' runouts have also been updated since last year, adding to the game's pomp and circumstance by featuring traditions like Oklahoma's Sooner Schooner and South Carolina's Cockaboose.

There are dozens of new mascots, too, as well as new pre-game marching band formations to go along with an incredible soundscape of snare drums, trombones, and French horns that enhances each stadium's kinetic atmosphere. A few teams also have specific touchdown and turnover celebrations, rewarding each takeaway with a short cutscene, such as Arizona piercing footballs with their turnover sword or a Georgia player donning their savage pads.

I don't have any keen insight to Nintendo's process, but if you told me that Donkey Kong Bananza was crafted by a Voltron-like supergroup of key developers from its biggest franchises, I would believe you. At first glance, it bears the strongest resemblance to Super Mario Odyssey, from which it gets most of its fundamental mechanics, structure, and game-feel. Then it augments that with physics-based terrain deformation and experimental flexibility reminiscent of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom. Finally, it merges both of those into what serves as a soft reboot of Donkey Kong, borrowing bits and pieces from all over the Kong-iverse to make something that is both recognizable and fresh. The result is an excellent platforming adventure that moves with its own propulsive force, constantly beckoning you to dig a little deeper.

The Donkey Kong DNA is important because, for a lot of older gamers, DK as a 3D-platforming star sparks some uneasy feelings. The character has excelled at 2D platformers with the Donkey Kong Country series, but his one 3D outing, Donkey Kong 64, has a mixed reputation. Donkey Kong Bananza, then, is something of a redemption story. This is DK's star-making role, and may well map the future of the character.

Donkey Kong Bananza recasts DK as a lovable lunk, crazed for bananas and working for some kind of strange banana-mining company. The underground is stocked with crystalized Golden Bananas that provide Bananergy, and a legion of chimps in mining hats chip away at the bedrock to find them. DK doesn't need a pickaxe, since he can just punch his way through the rocks to find the treasured bananas. But things take a turn when the VoidCo mining company bosses crash through the mine and head toward the planet core. DK chases after them for the promise of recovering his stolen bananas, and along the way meets a strange singing rock that turns out to be a little girl named Pauline, who fans of the very first game may recognize. VoidCo and its boss, Void Kong, have some devious plan for Pauline involving the planet core, so partly to protect her--but mostly for bananas--the two of you team up to uncover their dastardly plot.

There is no greater feeling--of awe, despair, exhilaration--in Dune: Awakening than being eaten by Shai'Hulud. In the 60-plus hours I've spent with developer Funcom's open-world survival MMORPG, I've been swallowed by the sandworms of Arrakis exactly twice. Both encounters were moments I'll never forget.

Dune: Awakening is filled with these kinds of moments, ones where the desert world of Arrakis becomes the star and the player merely a small actor. Whether it's crossing the open desert sands and narrowly escaping Shai'Hulud's maw or piloting an Ornithopter for the first time, Funcom's latest makes author Frank Herbert's iconic book feel real in a way not even Denis Villeneuve's critically acclaimed Dune films managed to accomplish. Dune: Awakening is nothing if not ambitious in that regard, adapting an infamously difficult-to-adapt masterwork of science-fiction with confidence. Though it eventually does become repetitive, its endgame lacks direction, and its strict adherence to the source material is sometimes an Achilles' heel, Dune: Awakening nonetheless manages to carefully mix and match genres to create a Spice Melange cocktail that is hard to put down--at least for the first few dozen hours.

From Dune: Awakening's very first moments, Funcom's reverence for Herbert's universe is clear. While clearly inspired by the look of Villeneuve's films (certain designs, like the Ornithopters, Imperial Testing Stations, and the look of the Harkonnens are ripped straight from the movies), Funcom also puts its own spin on the Dune universe, effectively blending the two looks together to create something that feels both familiar and different, but unquestionably Dune.

Video games and mechs are a match made in heaven, so it's surprising there aren't more games about piloting the hulking war machines. 2023's Armored Core VI: Fires of Rubicon was the last mech game of note, delighting both fans and newcomers alike with its breakneck action and fully fledged customization. Yet those of us looking for more mecha-based thrills have been left wanting in the years since.

You can only go so long without soaring through the air in a sleekly designed mech, dodging missiles and small-arms fire like you're starring in Macross or Mobile Suit Gundam before you begin to crave more. Up steps Mecha Break: a new free-to-play, third-person multiplayer game that evokes the exciting, full-tilt action of classic mecha anime. With three distinct game modes on offer and dozens of varied machines to pilot, Mecha Break offers quick thrills, but a lack of customization and a free-to-play model built on aggressive monetization and not-so-micro transactions hold it back from achieving pure mecha greatness.

Things kick off with a brief introductory mission that does a poor job of teaching you the objectives of an actual match. With its boss fights and set-piece moments, it feels more like a mission from a nonexistent single-player game than a primer for what Mecha Break has to offer. There's some semblance of worldbuilding revolving around a mysterious mineral called Corite, which drove humanity's rapid technological growth but is now killing the Earth.

Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 1+2 was a phenomenal package that made lifelong fans like myself fall in love with its quarter pipes and rails all over again. It was a wonderful tribute to the 1999 and 2000 originals, but there was one big bugaboo that left me and other fans wanting: the exclusion of the series' third entry. Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 3 felt missing from the first remake, stripped from the games it most closely resembles. And while that problem may seem solved with Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 3+4, from the outside, developer Iron Galaxy has made a number of decisions that are likely to leave fans of the originals disappointed, even though this second remake is still an excellent Tony Hawk game.

The original three games fit together perfectly, with each subsequent game adding new mechanics that made the series' trick system feel complete by Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 3. Each game was also structured in the same way, giving players two-minute skate sessions to complete as many goals as they could, performing tricks and earning high scores, before moving on to the next two-minute session. It's a format that works well, so much so that you'll have a hard time stopping yourself from going for one more run.

However, it's not how Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 4 was structured, with the fourth game instead opting for freely roamable levels that mission-giving characters called home. Time limits only came with specific challenges when the likes of pro skater Geoff Rowley asked you to steal police officers' hats or a college student pleaded with you to take revenge on the local frat boys. In THPS 3+4, the levels from 4 have been retrofitted to behave and play like levels from the first three games. That means fewer goals per level, no mission-givers, and a time limit to top things off.

Switch 2 Version Update: With the launch of the Nintendo Switch 2, Pokemon Scarlet and Violet have received a much-needed performance boost. The free update adds 4K visuals while docked and a rock-solid 60 frames per second for both docked and handheld play. After several hours of testing, both Scarlet and Violet run and play significantly better. A stormy Casseroya Lake in the northwestern part of Paldea was particularly taxing on the original Switch and, even after a handful of updates, I dreaded going to that lake to collect items or shiny hunt. Now, on the Switch 2, it runs flawlessly regardless of where you are in the world. Additionally, the lengthy loading times have been reduced to a few seconds.

Despite these improvements, Pokemon Scarlet and Violet still isn't the most visually appealing Pokemon game to date. The world feels bland and barren, and character models--outside of the wonderfully detailed and expressive Pokemon--are simplistic and wooden. Despite the 4k resolution, there are still plenty of low-quality textures and visual bugs can occur during battle. It's a shame given how strong the visual identity is for something like Pokemon Let's Go! Pikachu and Eevee or even Pokemon: Legends Arceus, which received a fair bit of criticism for its visuals as well.

Though, oddly enough, the number of Pokemon that can appear on-screen has increased significantly, making Paldea feel slightly more lively. This is especially good news for shiny-hunting sickos like me as it's much easier to spawn and spot a rare Pokemon.

After cutting its teeth on melee combat and kung fu action with Absolver and Sifu, I don't think anyone expected Slocap's next game to be an arcadey alternative to EA Sports FC. But that's precisely what the French developer has crafted with Rematch: a football game that embodies the spirit and chaotic energy of having a kick-about with friends. From the wayward passes and the goalkeeper who decides he's now a striker, to someone popping up with an incredible goal out of absolutely nowhere, Rematch constantly reminded me of my childhood and the countless hours spent playing football. When I was at school, I would forego food just so I could play for the entire hour-long lunchtime; when I was off school, I would inevitably get together with friends and head down to the local park, using jumpers as makeshift goalposts. Other games have done this kind of five-a-side style of football before, but none have come as close as Rematch does to capturing the essence of my footballing heyday.

Rather than taking control of an entire team, Rematch puts you in the boots of a single player in 3v3, 4v4, and 5v5 matches. There's a short prologue and some training minigames to play on your own, but beyond this you're always playing with and against other human players. Each match lasts six minutes, and there's a mercy rule that immediately ends the game after one team has taken a four-goal lead (I guess Slocap never saw Newcastle vs. Arsenal circa 2011). The only stoppages occur when a team scores; otherwise, Rematch plays fast and loose with the rules. There are no fouls, offsides, or handballs, and throw-ins, corners, and goal kicks are nonexistent due to the pitch being surrounded on all four sides by giant transparent walls. This quickly establishes a chaotic pace. Sometimes it's messy, while other times you feel like Messi. There's also no progression or skill points to help improve your player's attributes. Everyone is on a level playing field, so only the most skillful will rise to the top.

There's a fairly steep learning curve to overcome in Rematch. Part of this derives from its tactile, physics-based design, which, among other things, prevents the ball from sticking to your feet when sprinting down the field. Another part is related to the game's perspective. In EA Sports FC, for instance, there's a camera option that follows closely behind your player in either Pro Clubs or its player career mode. I've never known anyone to actually use this view, though, as being able to see the full pitch from the classic sideline angle is much more effective. Rematch doesn't give you this option. You have full camera control, similar to most third-person games, but it's always positioned just behind your player, placing you directly in the thick of the action. The presence of a mini-map ensures that you don't need to have your head on a swivel like a Premier League midfielder, but it's still an uncommon way of playing a football game. Couple this with an enclosed playing field and futuristic stadiums, and there's more than a little Rocket League about Rematch. If Rocket League is football with cars, then Rematch is Rocket League without them.

After its predecessor served as a beacon of novelty amidst a sea of stagnation, Death Stranding 2: On The Beach had a big challenge to overcome. Death Stranding's absurd nature, encompassing everything from urine grenades to gently rocking your controller to calm a distressed baby, was coupled with a rich new setting to unravel. Step by step, Sam Porter Bridges connected a post-apocalyptic America to a network by making dozens of deliveries from one point to another. Its slow and methodical pace made it somewhat of an outlier in the AAA space. The sequel follows suit in most ways that made its predecessor stand out. The core foundation remains unchanged--planning and executing each delivery requires strategy and improvisation, and they're still satisfying to pull off. But this second iteration doesn't feel as arresting as it mired in familiar story beats, a disappointing lack of friction, and an obsession with doubling down on the weaker aspects of Death Stranding.

The story begins with Sam living a reclusive life near the Mexico border with Lou, the now-grown baby from the first game. A familiar face inevitably finds Sam and, once again, asks for help connecting an array of facilities to the network. This time, your destinations are fictional depictions of Mexico and Australia, and the journey involves collaborating with a growing crew of characters that cruise around with you in the DHV Magellan, a Metal Gear-shaped ship serving as the base of operations.

Throughout the 33 hours it took me to reach the end credits, which included a few side activities along the way, the story focused on the effects of connecting the United States to the Chiral Network, while uncovering the whereabouts of returning characters. Sam's new tale is told sporadically, which feels like watching a very slow season of a TV show. Completing main missions grants enough parcels of story here and there to keep you engaged, but I spent a lot of time longing for a cutscene or conversation that might shed a little clarity or answers to mysteries introduced early on, as cutscenes sometimes fail to deliver relevant information or any character development. That being said, while some of the eventual revelations weren't as impactful as I had hoped, my interest in seeing the story through didn't wane.

Remedy is a team known for its story-driven single-player games, and though it has tried other kinds of games over the years, FBC: Firebreak is its most prominent detour to date. Built as a three-player co-op PvE first-person shooter set in the Oldest House--the same setting as 2019's Control--Firebreak manages to transpose Remedy's signature strangeness onto something new, and the more I played it, the more I enjoyed it, though it has its fair share of issues.

The story casts players as formerly pencil-pushing Federal Bureau of Control (FBC) employees who have no choice but to create makeshift weaponry and gear to combat the Hiss threat they're trapped in the Oldest House with. This premise gives the game a colorful and comedic tone, where expendable player-characters chirp about needing to fill out workplace forms and worry about overtime pay despite the chaotic circumstances they find themselves in. Firebreak sits at the intersection of the FBC's inherent bureaucracy and its impromptu DIY, punk-rock showdown with supernatural monsters. It's a tone that feels decidedly Remedy-like, and its class-based combat does well to match that weirdness.

Three "Crisis Kits" make up the game's classes. There's the Fix Kit, which is equipped with a giant wrench and can repair things like lighting, breaker boxes, and healing showers. The Jump Kit, which comes with an electro-shocking contraption that would look at home in Ghostbusters, can be used to shock enemies and power various electronic devices, like broken fans in the game's earliest mission. Lastly, the Splash Kit comes with a big water gun that can shoot bubbles of water to put out fires or dilute negative status effects from one's self or teammates. Naturally, this one pairs well with the Jump Kit, too, as soaking and then shocking enemies can be an effective way of reducing their numbers.

More than anything, Nintendo Switch 2 Welcome Tour is an odd part of the Switch 2 launch lineup because it's defined more by what it isn't than what it is. It isn't really a video game. It isn't part of a franchise. And most centrally, it isn't a free pack-in game.

That last one feels instinctually unfair as a game reviewer who makes a point to ignore price in most cases. Games are worth what you're willing to pay for them, prices fluctuate, and I try to evaluate quality on its own merits. But Welcome Tour makes its price impossible to ignore because every bit of its identity feels so ideally crafted to be a pack-in game to introduce the Switch 2 to new users, and then it just ... isn't.

The name is very pointed in this regard. This is built to be a primer for the Switch 2, explaining all of its new features in clear layman's terms. Informed Switch 2 players are bound to know what they're getting for their investment, but the non-gamers Nintendo likes to eye as part of its wide net "Blue Ocean" strategy may not understand the intricate alphabet soup of VRR and HDR. The in-game tutorials break down these complex topics with simple explanations that anyone can grasp, along with videos and demonstrations when necessary to let you experience the difference for yourself. It's genuinely neat! I could see handing this to my parents and having them walk away with, if not a complete understanding of next-gen gaming technology, at least a better grasp of it.

One of the earliest missions in MindsEye tasks you with tailing a car. Get too close and the person driving will spot you; fall too far behind and you'll lose sight of the vehicle. It's the exact kind of mission structure we all decided was tired and needed to go away over a decade ago. The only difference in MindsEye is that you're piloting a drone instead of driving a car, so even the relatively small stakes are diminished by the fact that you can just fly really high to avoid being seen. It's not a positive first impression, especially when you factor in the confluence of concerning events surrounding the game and developer Build a Rocket Boy--from the studio's co-CEO stating that anyone sharing negative feedback about the game was being funded by an ubiquitous source, to the chief legal officer and CFO both leaving the company a few weeks before launch.

Neither is a great look, yet I still went into MindsEye with an open mind. There's some pedigree behind the scenes, after all, with former Rockstar North lead Leslie Benzies handling directing duties. Benzies was a producer on Grand Theft Auto III through V before leaving to found Build a Rocket Boy, and you can clearly see elements of GTA's DNA in MindsEye. Unfortunately, the comparisons end there.

MindsEye is not good. That early tailing mission is sadly indicative of the rest of the game as you slog through roughly 10 hours of dull and creatively bankrupt third-person action, combining driving and cover-based shooting within a linear framework. The story isn't completely terrible, at least, with a few entertaining moments sprinkled into what is otherwise a mostly forgettable tale. You play as Jacob Diaz, a former soldier with selective amnesia caused by a neural implant in his neck: the titular MindsEye. What initially begins as a personal quest to uncover his past gradually becomes a mission for humanity's survival, as familiar sci-fi tropes come to the fore.