You spend years waiting for a new 2D action platformer starring ninjas to come along, and then two show up within a month of each other. Both Ninja Gaiden: Ragebound and Shinobi: Art of Vengeance revitalize their respective, long-dormant franchises by successfully harkening back to their roots. There are obvious similarities between the two games, but they're also wildly different. While Ragebound is deliberately old-school, Art of Vengeance feels more modern, paying homage to the past while dragging the absent series into the current gaming landscape.

From its luscious hand-drawn art style to its deep, combo-laden action, developer Lizardcube has accomplished with Shinobi what it previously achieved with Wonder Boy and Streets of Rage. The Parisian studio knows how to resurrect Sega's past hits with remarkable aplomb, and Art of Vengeance is no different.

Equipped with a katana in one hand and a sharpened batch of kunai in the other, Art of Vengeance reintroduces legendary protagonist Joe Musashi after an extended exile. As the game's title suggests, this is a story about Joe's quest for vengeance, as the opening moments see his village burned to the ground and his ninja clan turned to stone. ENE Corp, an evil paramilitary organisation led by the antagonistic Lord Ruse and his demonic minions, is behind the attack, setting in motion a straightforward tale that sees you hunt down Lord Ruse while disrupting his various operations.

There's a good chance that, at some point in your life, you've been so enamored of a piece of media that you've considered what it'd be like to experience it for the first time again. Watching Terminator 2, hearing Enter the Wu-Tang, and reading The Dark Knight Returns shaped who I am and, as a result, I remember the moments I experienced them with crystal clarity. Over time, however, those memories have become divorced from the emotions they stirred and what's left in their place is a longing for those lost feelings.

Video games are the only medium that I think are capable of making that first-time-again fantasy a reality--or as close to one as we're going to get. Time puts distance between us and the emotionally significant moments we cherish, but it also brings us closer to exciting technologies that can make the old feel new. In the right hands, those technologies can create opportunities to stoke those profound emotions again, even if it's just a little. Metal Gear Solid Delta: Snake Eater does exactly that.

Before getting into what's new, what can't be overlooked in making Delta such a good game is the fact that Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater remains a compelling, well-told story that has strong characterization and deals with some heavy subject matter. It approaches this with a strange mixture of self-seriousness and complete irreverence that is uniquely Metal Gear Solid and, for my money, balances both parts better than any other entry in the series. The stellar stealth is supported by systems that feed into the fantasy of surviving in the jungle and braving the elements, whether that be hunting for food or patching yourself up after sustaining injuries. Delta replicates it and, in my opinion, is better for it. The excellent work that the original Metal Gear Solid 3 dev team did remains the heart and soul of Delta, and it continues to shine.

In the aftermath of Stardew Valley's success and popularity, there have been many attempts by other developers to carve their own piece of the pixel farm life simulator pie. Whereas those games so often put you in the role of a poor farmer or some other position of struggle, Discounty does the opposite, having you effectively play as the bad guys in Stardew Valley: the outsider that has everything and is trying to weasel into the community. You're not literally playing a mirror of that game's story, but it's awfully close--instead of being the new farmer in a small, struggling town, you're instead the new owner of the big-brand supermarket that's attempting to monopolize the economy and push out existing vendors to increase your profit margins. It altogether makes for a game that is fun to play (in that hypnotic sort of way that's recognizable in so many games that romanticize retail work), but it is ultimately narratively quite uncomfortable at times and too muddled in its storytelling to utilize that discomfort to deliver a compelling message.

Granted, you're merely the pawn in the palm of the hand of a much greedier capitalist: your aunt. Roped into moving to her small harbor town of Blomkest to help out with her struggling market, you arrive to find she's sold out to the Discounty chain and rebranded. Your aunt is immediately portrayed as a suspicious person, keeping secrets locked away in sheds, making backroom deals with banks, and firing employees without a second thought. It's all in the name of expanding her supermarket business empire, and you're her most loyal pawn, charming locals into going along with your expansions and acquiring their wares so that citizens have to go to Discounty to buy food and home supplies.

It feels scummy, especially since your character has zero backbone, pushing the buck on responsibility and ignoring the consequences of their actions for a big chunk of the game's story, which primarily deals with a hurting community that needs healing.

About a week ago, on the same day I started playing Okomotive's Herdling, I accidentally hit a squirrel with my car. The critter darted into the road, and I tried to evade them, but I failed.

They died. It devastated me.

I called my wife, physically shaking and tearful, to tell her what happened. I sat in my car for a bit when I got to my destination, needing to regain my composure. Though I knew my intent was pure, I found it hard to accept that I had taken their life away. To no one's surprise, if you're familiar with my work, I saw them not as "roadkill," but as a being with their own interests and goals, however simple those may seem compared to those of humans. It wasn't an ideal starting point for heading into Herdling, a game about trying to guide a family of vulnerable animals out of the city and return them safely to their natural habitat. But I'm sure, even on a normal day, Herdling was going to connect with me deeply on account of its moving depictions of human-animal kindness and companionship.

Drag X Drive comes at an interesting time in the launch lineup for the Nintendo Switch 2. Rather than numerous day-one first-party releases that may risk overshadowing each other, the company has been releasing them one at a time, monthly. First we had Mario Kart World--alongside Nintendo Switch 2 Welcome Tour, which kind of counts--followed by Donkey Kong Bananza, and now, Drag X Drive. The unconventional sports game is unique in the lineup for not centering around a known franchise. Instead its hook is an almost exclusively multiplayer focus and a novel control scheme based around the system's mouse functionality. But while it's a neat showpiece for how dual-mouse controls can create new game experiences, in practice it's mostly just physically uncomfortable to play.

Drag X Drive follows in the footsteps of games like Rocket League, mixing various influences to create something new. In this case, its closest analogue is wheelchair basketball, a Paralympic sport that allows disabled athletes to play with some modifications. It adds a slight twist to that foundation, though, by taking place inside a skateboarding bowl, allowing players to build up speed and do trick shots to earn score bonuses. It's a neat concept, and one that could pay homage to the athleticism of the real thing while giving it a wild variation. The hub area even has the look and feel of a basketball skate park, with courts living alongside loads of ramps and stunt areas.

The real hook is its control scheme. While other games have made light use of the Switch 2 mouse controls, Drag X Drive is centered completely around it. You detach both Joy-Con controllers and turn them on their side, and sliding them forward together approximates pushing the wheels of your wheel chair. Doing it in rhythm for a while gets you up to top speed, which is what enables your ability to vert off ramps and do tricks, or just rush into other players for a tackle to steal the ball. You lift a hand and flick your wrist to toss a ball into the basket, and tackling a player from the side or back staggers them for a moment and can throw off their attempted shot. Pressing the shoulder buttons acts as your brakes, and the HD Rumble feature lets you feel the tread of the tires as you roll. In theory, you can even pull off hairpin turns by braking with one wheel while pushing the other, or sliding them in opposite directions.

The Madden curse is lifted.

No, not that one--the one I alluded to at the end of my review last year. I'd said it felt like I was cursed to play a frustrating football game year after year forever, because I liked it enough to invest my time (if only for my job and my online league), but I never felt like it was living up to its responsibility as the only NFL sim available on the market. Madden NFL 26 finally gives me hope. Supplementing the great on-field gameplay with a Franchise overhaul that turns Madden into a sports RPG in the way it should be, this is the best Madden in a long time.

Madden's on-field gameplay has been improving year over year for a good while now. It's not that it can't improve any more, but it's finally in that stage, like some other sports games have reached before, where the foundation is sturdy and, with the most important aspects in a good place, the development team is now focusing on enhancements more than fixes.

The Mafia series has always been an outlier in the open-world action genre. While the 2002 original could have easily been written off as another Grand Theft Auto clone, Mafia and subsequent titles in the franchise carved a niche for themselves by being narrative-driven experiences built around a specific time and place. Empire Bay from Mafia 1 and 2 is an amalgamation of Chicago and New York created to capture the feeling of 1930s and 50s gangster culture, while New Bordeaux from Mafia 3 attempted to depict the Vietnam-era in the south. Mafia: The Old Country successfully continues this trend with its depiction of Sicily in the early 1900s, but is ultimately held back by its shallow mechanics and dated design.

Mafia: The Old Country follows Enzo Favara as he falls in with the Torrisi Crime Family. After fleeing the sulfur mines, Enzo is saved by Don Torrisi, a soft-spoken and enigmatic mob boss that sounds like another very famous soft-spoken crime lord. Torrisi sees potential in Enzo and puts him to work at his vineyard where he meets Luca, a mentor-like figure to Enzo; Cesare, Don Torrisi’s hot-headed nephew; and Isabella, the Don’s daughter with whom Enzo has an instant connection. Throughout the course of the 12-hour story, Enzo sinks deeper and deeper into the criminal underworld. It’s a fairly predictable mobster story that’s elevated by strong characters, great performances, and thoughtful writing.

That said, Mafia: The Old Country’s cast doesn’t make the best first impression. Enzo is very quiet and standoffish in the early hours; Don Torissi, at times, sounds a little too much like Michael Corleone; and Luca--despite being one of my favorite characters by the end--comes across as just another rank-and-file mobster. Fortunately, after the first couple of chapters, their personalities start to come through more strongly. This is especially true for Luca, who helps guide Enzo through his new life within the Torrisi family. Meanwhile, Cesare develops beyond a simple hothead as he struggles to live up to his uncle’s lofty expectations. The only exception to the slow burn of character personalities is Tino, Don Torrisi consigliere. Portrayed by Anthony Skordi, Tino makes a chilling impression out of the gate and frequently steals whatever scene he’s in.

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.