The Outer Worlds was Obsidian's gutsy attempt at a spiritual successor to its lauded work on Fallout, but the game couldn't completely hide the developer's roots. The spacefaring retro-future was recognizable as a continuation of Obsidian's earlier game, though it had enough of a distinct setting and its own gameplay systems to feel fresh. The Outer Worlds 2 builds on that sturdy foundation, and while it's largely more of the same, it is also a confident and expansive sequel that suggests a bright future for The Outer Worlds as an ongoing series.

In Outer Worlds 2, you play as "the Commander." Whereas the first game had you play as a random colonist, this new role inherently imbues you with more authority as an Earth Directorate agent. In short, you're a fixer, dispatched to the Arcadia region that's being ripped apart by a factional war, corporate takeovers, and the emergence of rifts that have been cutting the colony off from communications with Earth. From the very beginning, you have your badge and gun, so to speak, along with your own fledgling crew and a spaceship base of operations called the Incognito. Of course, your very first mission goes terribly wrong (as these things tend to) and when you regain consciousness some time later, you set out to find the persons responsible for the botched mission, while also investigating the increasingly dire rift problem. Without getting into spoilers, it's a strong opening that propels the story forward with momentum and mystery.

When you're creating your Commander, you can select a number of different backgrounds like a disgraced gambler, a disgraced professor, a disgraced freelancer, or an ex-convict. You get the sense that most people become agents in the space FBI for lack of other options, except for the Lawbringer background, which is pure and straightforward Lawful Good. I chose Roustabout, which is a friendly way of saying "disgraced idiot."

I once had a friend describe Katamari Damacy to me as a "cool uncle game"--a statement I found hilarious considering the person who introduced me to the series was, in fact, my cool uncle. What he meant by this, though, was that while the Katamari series has never quite reached a point of true, mainstream popularity, it's certainly managed to foster a cult following of fans who adore its peculiarity--fans who revel in absurd concepts like "rolling up the world," and seemingly always have some niche-yet-utterly-engrossing New Thing to show you. A fanbase of "cool uncles," if you will.

Though I can't claim to be an uncle and certainly won't claim to be cool, after playing Once Upon a Katamari, I am eager and ready to join their ranks. The newest entry in Bandai Namco's nonsensical action-puzzle series has converted me from a Katamari appreciator to a Katamari fan. Once Upon a Katamari is a joyous return for the long-stagnant series, bringing with it small tweaks that make moment-to-moment gameplay more fun and lead to a number of clever levels. A tighter narrative, more engaging overworld, customization features, and updated visuals help set the game apart from its predecessors, while its playful writing and whimsical nature retain that distinctly Katamari feel. While Once Upon a Katamari might stumble a bit when it comes to innovating, the end result is a highly polished (and fun) new entry in the Katamari series.

Once Upon a Katamari kicks off the way these things so often do: with our beloved King of the Cosmos doing something tremendously stupid. During one of the royal family's much-needed cleaning days, the King of the Cosmos stumbles upon a peculiar scroll. What ensues is an embarrassingly relatable sequence of events, as the king grows distracted by the scroll, decides he'd rather be doing literally anything other than cleaning, and ultimately ends up hurling the object into space after using it as a baton. Naturally, this action winds up destroying the entirety of the cosmos, prompting the king to recruit you, The Prince, to help fix this even larger mess.

Zen Buddhist monk and personal hero of mine, Thich Nhat Hanh, spent much of his life writing about mindfulness. He stressed that when we do anything, we should commit to it fully, giving it our undivided attention and allowing ourselves to become immersed in it, be it simply eating, walking, or anything else. "Drink your tea slowly and reverently," he said, "as if it is the axis on which the earth revolves--slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future."

Like its predecessor, PowerWash Simulator 2 is a stage on which one can play out Thich Nhat Hanh's message. The simple pleasures of washing away the grime from dozens of walls, floors, cars, and couches act like an on-ramp to a flow state. For a while, I let the sequel wash over me, giving it my entire being and enjoying it thoroughly. But long before I sprayed away the last patch of mildew, I was back to my old ways, multitasking my way through a game that asks of me more patience and attention than I was willing to give it.

PowerWash Simulator 2 is exactly what it sounds like, though if you haven't played the first game, its title alone may not make it apparent why it can be so much fun. In this first-person job sim from FuturLab, you'll live out a career as a powerwasher, taking on nearly 40 jobs in solo play, split-screen, or online multiplayer with other soapy experts. You'll begin with a few simple tools--hoses with different nozzles that provide a range of spraying intensities and patterns, almost like an arsenal of guns in a traditional shooter. In essence, this is a shooter, but rather than zombies or Nazis, your targets are buildings, furnishings, and vehicles absolutely blanketed in filth, with each mission ending when you've completely cleansed the area of its grime.

Using Ryu Hayabusa's signature Flying Swallow attack, I leap into a crowd of enemies, slicing a daemon's head off with a clean strike before turning to the rest. As rapid combos transition into powerful Izuna Drops, Guillotine Throws, and charged-up Ultimate Techniques, I deflect and counter incoming attacks, lop off numerous limbs, and spill gallons of blood in the most exhilarating and stylish way imaginable. Co-developed by Team Ninja and Platinum Games, Ninja Gaiden 4 revives the character-action staple by nailing the fundamentals of the series' high-octane combat and then iterating on it in a number of interesting and exciting ways. It feels distinctly like Team Ninja's Ninja Gaiden, but Platinum's DNA is also undeniably present, making for a thrilling sequel that's well worth the decade-long wait.

Set in a near-future Tokyo, the once bustling city now lies deserted, blanketed by a perpetual downpour of miasma caused by the skeletal husk of the Dark Dragon looming over it. Ryu might've defeated the Divine Dragon God before, but peace can't be achieved until this cursed rain is stopped, kicking off a quest to resurrect the Dark Dragon and defeat it once and for all. For the majority of this adventure, you play as a new protagonist named Yakumo, a young ninja from the shadowy Raven Clan. He's stoic and broody, and emotes far more than Ryu ever has, but like the rest of the series, Ninja Gaiden 4 struggles to tell a compelling story.

Yakumo has a team in his ear, adding some texture during moments of downtime as they chat about the state of the world and establish the stakes. This offers a new perspective on the world of ninja clans, but they're a one-dimensional bunch, and the narrative is still relatively light. Yakumo and Ryu are at odds with one another, despite ostensibly sharing the same goal, but this thread is paper-thin, and Ryu's section is disappointingly inconsequential. There are some pacing issues, too, including a stretch where the story grinds to a halt for three chapters as you chase after an interdimensional shark. It's not unexpected, but Ninja Gaiden 4 tells the sort of tale you'll likely forget about once the final credits have rolled.

Keeper is strange. This may seem unsurprising given that it's the latest game from developer Double Fine, which has for years carried itself with a distinct oddball identity, but Keeper is unusual even by the studio's standards. It doesn't fit cleanly into a traditional genre, and at some points feels more like a prestige art project. But this is also Double Fine at its most uncompromising, and the experience is better for it.

The closest analog for Keeper is 2012's Journey--the two games share a wordless approach to narrative, an emphasis on movement that is at times slow and deliberate and at others joyfully fluid and fast, and even the seeming objective of making your way to a distant mountaintop. But that comparison feels reductive, because whereas Journey is a straightforward parable, Keeper keeps evolving, reinventing itself and its themes, and going to unexpected places. While you can quickly size up and understand the basic contours of Journey's world, the world of Keeper feels more alien, and the natural order of it isn't always clear.

Let's back up. Keeper begins when a lighthouse shines its light to save a bird from an encroaching swarm of parasitic darkness. The lighthouse itself topples, snapping into pieces, but then reforms itself and grows a tripod of spindly, wobbly legs. You play through these awkward first steps, frequently face-planting--does a lighthouse have a face?--as you learn how to move around the world.

Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines has always held a special place in my heart for many reasons, but certainly the most prominent is this: It was the first time I remember playing a game and thinking, "Wow, I am absolutely too young to be playing this."

I was 11 years old when I took my first stroll down the streets of Bloodline's Santa Monica--when I clumsily WASD'd my way through rooms filled with empty pill bottles, condom wrappers, and other bits of paraphernalia that I can only recall with an accompanying blush. I was too young (and timid!) to be sucking on necks, canoodling with the scantily-clad Jeanette, and traversing the Ocean House Hotel's utterly horrifying floorplan. And yet, I loved it. I loved knowing games could be... this: dark, mature, and wicked.

Alongside 2002's Neverwinter Nights, Bloodlines turned me into a die-hard fan of both TTRPGs and CRPGs in equal measure. So, needless to say, you can count me among the thousands of us who have been waiting--impatiently and a bit nervously--for Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines 2.

For the past few years, developer Game Freak has been experimenting with the Pokemon formula. 2021's Pokemon Legends: Arceus redefined what it meant to catch a Pokemon, and 2022's Pokemon Scarlet and Violet broke from the linear structure to let you take on gyms in any order. With Pokemon Legends: Z-A, Game Freak sets its sights on rethinking the battle mechanics. For the first time, Pokemon battles are real-time, with attacks utilizing a cooldown system and positioning playing a key role. This fresh take on the battle system keeps Legends: Z-A engaging from start to finish, but a bland presentation leaves Legends: Z-A feeling like a relic of the past.

Pokemon Legends: Z-A exclusively takes place in Lumiose City, the crown jewel of the Kalos region that is heavily inspired by Paris, France. A canal bisects the city, cafes can be found on nearly every block, and the Prism Tower--modeled after the Eiffel Tower--sits directly in the center. It's odd to play a Pokemon game set within the walls of a single town, but Lumiose City is probably one of the only places in the Pokemon universe that could support an entire game. That's not only due to its size, but also thanks to its rich history, which was established in 2013's Pokemon X and Y. Taking place only five years after the events of Pokemon X and Y means Legends: Z-A feels like a sequel rather than a spin-off.

By day, you're tasked with uncovering the truth behind Rogue Mega Evolved Pokemon popping up all over the city, and by night, you're climbing the Z-A Royale tournament ladder. Before long, these two goals become intertwined and missions alternate between hunting down Mega Evolved Pokemon and raising your rank in the Z-A Royale. Each rank introduces you to a new opponent who represents a different faction in Lumiose City. Over the course of the tournament, you'll spend time with a martial arts club and a crime syndicate, as well as mingle in aristocratic society. As you're getting to know these characters and their backstories, Rogue Mega Evolved Pokemon will threaten the city and you'll need to defeat them before ranking up in the tournament. It's a predictable structure, but one that affords Game Freak the opportunity to delve into the different sides of Lumiose City and its eccentric denizens. Ivor is a hulking man with long blond hair who wants to tear down the Wild Zones so Pokemon and people can live together in harmony. Corbeau is a sharply dressed mob boss who's dedicated his life to making Lumiose City a safe place.

When it comes to games about human kids partnering with cute critters that can evolve into powerful monsters, I've always been a bigger fan of Digimon than Pokemon. But most of that preference comes down to what's outside the video games: Digimon has more interesting monster designs, for example, and a far superior anime. Pokemon has always had the video games I prefer to play, usually having more engaging gameplay loops and satisfying battles.

Digimon's latest foray, however, Digimon Story: Time Stranger, has finally shifted the needle for me. While its story and characters don't rise to the heights achieved in the best moments of the Digimon anime, Time Stranger is a consistently fun turn-based RPG with great voice acting and rewarding, strategic team-building.

In Time Stranger, you play as an agent of a secret organization that works in the shadows of Tokyo to find, study, and confront urban legends, many of which turn out to be a strange lifeform the higher-ups have nicknamed Digimon. During your latest mission, you witness the emergence of a terrifying behemoth that destroys the city and begins spreading devastation across Japan.

At its best, Battlefield 6 is everything you could ask for from a Battlefield game. Intense, close-quarters firefights transition into long-range skirmishes as control points change hands and the action moves from the tight confines of half-destroyed buildings to open stretches of land. As fighter jets and helicopters swoop overhead, a medic pulls out a defibrillator and rushes into a hail of bullets to revive a squadmate who was just blown up trying to destroy a tank with a handful of C4.

Elsewhere, a sniper taking residence in a high-rise building is snuffed out by a well-placed RPG, blowing a hole in their nest until the entire building eventually collapses in on itself, while just a few yards away, the burnt husk of a helicopter drops out of the sky as its previous occupants parachute to the ground amidst a salvo of gunfire. Battlefield 6 is a return to form for a multiplayer shooter that thrives on emergent chaos.

For myriad reasons, Battlefield 2042 didn't evoke these moments often enough, leading Battlefield Studios--the collective name for developers DICE, Criterion, Motive, and Ripple Effect--to look to the past for the series' future. It's well-documented that Battlefield 3 and 4 were key inspirations in designing the series' latest iteration, and that's certainly reflected in how it plays. It's a safe approach, which isn't surprising given the negative reception to Battlefield 2042, especially when so many fans have been clamoring for a direct sequel to the series' fourth mainline entry. As a result, there's very little about Battlefield 6 that feels particularly fresh or new, but there's also no denying that it's quintessentially Battlefield. There's still nothing else quite like its multipronged chaos, so a return to form is more than enough to get pulses racing, even if it doesn't necessarily push the series forward.

I have a pet theory about roguelikes: The play-die-repeat loop has been fused with almost every genre imaginable, but the ones that pair best are genres that have always revolved around repeated play. Balatro's gonzo approach to poker or Hades' riff on the isometric action game took the core of games that had been built from the start to accommodate repeated runs and then added the incentives of stacking, iterative power-ups and progression on top of them.

Absolum is a game that is fundamentally built around the classic beat-'em-up. That genre is among the earliest, virtually a cave painting in video game history--the classic quarter-muncher. Beat-'em-ups were built for repeated fun because they needed to keep attracting you back to plunk in another coin, but they were also built to be remarkably hard. These qualities, which developers have sometimes struggled to modernize, make the roguelike element fit like a glove. As a result, Absolum is an absolute blast to play, over and over again.

It shouldn't be surprising that Absolum hews so closely to its beat-'em-up roots. This is an original world from Guard Crush Games, the studio behind Streets of Rage 4. But rather than cleaning up the mean streets in a retro-modern setting, Absolum borrows liberally from swords-and-sorcery classics like Golden Axe. This is a fresh fantasy world in which a cataclysm resulted in the outlawing of all magic in the land of Talamh. A totalitarian ruler, the Sun King Azra, rules the land with an iron fist, and he hypocritically instrumentalizes magic to keep rogue wizards in check. As a small band of rebel wizards, you wage war on the Sun King, making your way to his imperial tower with the blessing of the Root Mother Uchawi, who revives you after each unsuccessful run.

While waiting for Little Nightmares 3 to arrive, I went back and replayed the first two games, and I was reminded just how much creepier the first one is than its sequel. The Janitor, with his sinisterly stretched arms that could seemingly reach the silent protagonist, Six, wherever she hid, was the stuff of children's night terrors. The chefs, with their unsettling fleshy masks, taunted me with the truth that was veiled behind them. It's a reveal the game never offers, leaving my imagination to run wild. The second game was still one I enjoyed very much, but it felt like Tarsier Studios had toned down some of the grotesque, haunting displays in the sequel. It failed to create memorable villains on par with the original. Little Nightmares 3 changes hands to the horror veterans at Supermassive Games, and though the addition of co-op is a great fit, it feels similarly sanitized and overly familiar at times. It's as though it looked to the sequel more than the original for the blueprint.

Little Nightmares 3, like the previous games, is a cinematic horror-platformer, now newly built for two players--or one player and an AI companion. Without loading screens or virtually any prompts on the screen, it's extremely immersive, dropping you into a world that runs on nightmare fuel. Both this game's story and the broader universe are purposely vague, and this has always been the series' best attribute. Scurrying through dark apartments, rundown schools, foggy beaches, and haunted libraries nails the intent to present the world as an ever-present threat that is effective not just because it looks and sounds scary or because you'll reliably find yourself dashing away from monsters.

Instead, the world itself is so hard to grasp, operating on dream logic, like someone has extracted the real memories of kids' nightmares and put them into a game. This means every creepy encounter with its monsters of different shapes and sizes always comes with bewilderment. What is this, and how do I evade it? The rules of the world are always changing, and with uncertainty comes fear.

Like almost every annual sports game, EA Sports FC 26 is exactly what you would expect it to be: an iterative upgrade on last year's game. To EA's credit, it's a pretty good upgrade, all things considered. This is partly due to how off the mark EA FC 25 was, but also because of a concerted effort to solve some of the series' longstanding issues by focusing on player feedback. The end result is an interesting attempt to appeal to every type of player. It's not wholly successful in this ambition, but EA FC 26 is at least a step in the right direction.

The headlining change is a shift to two distinct playstyles. The series has always felt somewhat different when played online compared to offline, but the feeling is now much more pronounced and extends beyond the foibles of online netcode. Competitive and Authentic gameplay presets make a marked difference in how the match engine handles. You can choose between either one when playing offline, but online modes, such as Ultimate Team, are locked into the Competitive playstyle (even when playing Squad Battles against the CPU).

The Competitive preset is all about player skill. The pace of the game is rapid, with passes ping-ponging between players' feet, and the spotlight is on dribbling, skill moves, and consistently high-scoring matches. Despite this proclivity for attacking football, defending has also been improved. Successful tackles actually regain possession, rather than knocking the ball right back to the attacking player's feet, so a lot of the frustration from previous entries has been exorcised.

The release of a new Fire Emblem game is usually a big deal, so I was more than a little intrigued--but mostly confused--when I happened to glance at the Nintendo Today app calendar on September 24 and it said "Fire Emblem Shadows Available." There had just been a Nintendo Direct on September 12, after all, where Nintendo announced the next mainline entry in the series for Switch 2, Fire Emblem: Fortune's Weave. There was no mention of Fire Emblem Shadows. And after playing it, I can see why Nintendo wouldn't showcase it on that big stage

I assumed it was referring to Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon, the 2009 remake of the first game in the series, and went on with my day. It was only later that evening I learned that Fire Emblem Shadows was actually a brand-new mobile entry in the series: one where players manage "real-time strategy and social deduction at the same time."

The idea of a new game in the long-running tactics series arriving out of the blue had me eager to install it and see what it was about. I had a decent time with Fire Emblem Heroes, Nintendo's previous attempt at translating Fire Emblem to the world of free-to-play mobile games (and one that would go on to become Nintendo's first mobile game to hit $1 billion in revenue). As such, I was curious to see how Shadows, which is also free to play, would differ. Unfortunately, the monkey paw soon curled, and I found myself dumbfounded by all the ways Fire Emblem Shadows is Fire Emblem in name only.

Like almost every annual sports game, EA Sports FC 26 is exactly what you would expect it to be: an iterative upgrade on last year's game. To EA's credit, it's a pretty good upgrade, all things considered. This is partly due to how off the mark EA FC 25 was, but also because of a concerted effort to solve some of the series' longstanding issues by focusing on player feedback. The end result is an interesting attempt to appeal to every type of player. It's not wholly successful in this ambition, but EA FC 26 is at least a step in the right direction.

The headlining change is a shift to two distinct playstyles. The series has always felt somewhat different when played online compared to offline, but the feeling is now much more pronounced and extends beyond the foibles of online netcode. Competitive and Authentic gameplay presets make a marked difference in how the match engine handles. You can choose between either one when playing offline, but online modes, such as Ultimate Team, are locked into the Competitive playstyle (even when playing Squad Battles against the CPU).

The Competitive preset is all about player skill. The pace of the game is rapid, with passes ping-ponging between players' feet, and the spotlight is on dribbling, skill moves, and consistently high-scoring matches. Despite this proclivity for attacking football, defending has also been improved. Successful tackles actually regain possession, rather than knocking the ball right back to the attacking player's feet, so a lot of the frustration from previous entries has been exorcised.

In 2020's Ghost of Tsushima, protagonist Jin Sakai is a samurai, part of Japan's ruling class during the Kamakura period in which the game is set. When Khotun Khan and his Mongolian army attack Jin's home island of Tsushima, the samurai is unable to repel the invading force as the noble warrior he was forged to be, and must instead sever his honor by becoming the fearsome "Ghost." Yet adopting underhanded tactics to gain the edge comes at a cost, as Jin is forced to grapple with sacrificing his relationships, his moral code, and everything he once stood for in an effort to defeat an unconventional foe.

In Ghost of Yotei, protagonist Atsu doesn't have to make such choices. She's not a samurai, but a wandering mercenary from an ignoble family--a family that was slaughtered at the hands of a gang of violent outlaws known as the Yotei Six. With everything taken from her, Atsu's gender and lowly status mean she has no fixed standing in Japanese society during the early 1600s.

Alone and consumed by revenge, she carves her own path forward, adopting the mantle of the onryo, a vengeful spirit from Japanese folklore that's able to inflict harm in the world of the living. Like Jin, Atsu becomes a symbol--one that strikes fear into the hearts of her enemies as her legend grows. But while this parallel is notable, it's the differences between Jin and Atsu that stand out the most.

Just like the first game, Hades 2 launched first in early access, allowing developer Supergiant Games to delicately tweak and balance gameplay, as well as add new content before its full launch. And, like the first game, that time was not wasted.

Hades 2 exits early access as a finely-honed and deeply engaging roguelite that builds upon the strong foundations established by the first game. It's larger in every way, with more characters and conversations to enjoy, an entirely new roster of weapons to learn, and deeper customization options to its expanded combat system, yet none of these upgrades compromise Hades' legacy. Rather, Hades 2 improves upon its predecessor in every way, making it a masterfully crafted sequel that is essential to play.

Instead of playing as Zagreus again, you play as his sister, Melinoe, who was born after the events of the first game. Your journey with the witchling begins shortly after the titan Chronos usurps the throne and takes over Hades's domain, banishing Hades, Persephone, Zagreus, and the other Chthonic gods as he does so. Melinoe, saved from the unknown fate of her family, has been raised to realize one simple goal: Death to Chronos. That goal is realized over many, many treks through Hades and beyond, with each run featuring randomized elements, including the enemies you'll face and the upgrades you'll earn along the way. With the help of her mentor, fellow titan Hecate, and a cast of new and returning gods, shades, and all those in between, Hades 2 sets out strongly from the get-go with a story that is gripping to watch unfold between runs.

Hollow Knight is a venture into Hallownest's depths, a methodical descent ever deeper into the quiet stillness of a long-dead kingdom in a desperate attempt to understand why this civilization fell, what possesses only some of its bug citizens to revert into unthinking and violent insects and not others, and what it is we're even doing there. There are no concrete answers to be found or a set path to follow; there's barely a discernible objective for almost the entire game. It is a story built around curiosity, only rewarding snippets of Hallownest's fascinating history to those who venture for no other reason than wanting to do so. It's one of my favorite games of all time, and its sequel, Hollow Knight: Silksong, is even better.

In some ways, you can tell that Silksong started out as an expansion to the first game. It plays largely the same, and long-time fans will fall into the familiar rhythm of pogoing off enemy heads and deadly saw blades with downward slashes, frantically healing during brief breaks in an intense boss fight, parrying an attack with a well-timed slash, and breathing a sigh of relief upon reaching the next bench and setting a new spawn point.

It's not all exactly the same: Hornet's downward slash is initially her trademark diagonal dive (but you can change it later!), for example. But Silksong feels like more Hollow Knight. The rhythmic acrobatic nature of combat, rewarding feeling of success from defeating a tough-as-nails boss, and sense of wonder at discovering that there is, in fact, another area to explore are all here. Team Cherry created a superb gameplay loop in the first game, and that fantastic formula continues to shine in Silksong years later.

I'm old enough to remember how it felt to first play Final Fantasy Tactics in 1997--to remember its stirring score, deep tactical combat, and most of all, the complex story of broken relationships and valor set against a bitter, conspiracy-laden battle for royal succession. It all came together to create an unforgettable experience. More than nearly any game of its time, I was so rapt in it that I would find my mind frequently wandering back to it, planning new strategies, wondering what would happen next.

Tactics is a game that has lived on as a cult classic with sporadic attempts at giving it its due, as with 2007's War of the Lions. The Ivalice Chronicles is the latest and best version so far, modernizing just enough to keep its spirit intact and enhance its memorable story without sacrificing its classic charms.

The story primarily follows the life of Ramza Beoulve, the youngest and most obscure member of a storied house of nobles, and his fractious friendship with Delita Heiral, a commoner who was treated like family by the Beoulve clan. As narration informs us before the game begins, history remembers Delita as the conquering hero of the War of the Lions--but it was the relatively unknown Ramza who should actually be celebrated.

Blippo+ is certainly one of the strangest games you could play this year--or any year, really. Released on Steam, Switch, and Playdate (the small yellow handheld famous for its crank controls), it strains the fundamental definition of a video game. Instead, it's more of a simulation of TV channel-surfing in the late '80s or early '90s, a kind of interaction younger generations actually have no experience with. It's a game whose target audience would seem to be very few people at all. And yet, because I enjoy exceptionally weird experiences, it delivers.

Blippo+ is a collection of live-action skits meant to play like a cable television package from 30ish years ago. When you first start up the game, it "scans" for channels--a process I vaguely recalled interacting with as a kid when Blippo+ reminded me. Then, once its dozen or so channels are found, you simply... watch TV.

The TV schedule plays out in real time. These are not on-demand offerings a la Netflix or HBO Max. This is a perpetually cycling programming schedule. If you tune into the news channel, for example, you'll miss what's happening at the same time on the music, family or--yes--even the porn channel. Each program only lasts a few minutes, so it's not as though you're locked in for 30 or more minutes if you want to watch any single program in its entirety. This also makes it easy enough to eventually catch everything, either by channel-surfing routinely like a kid after school in 1996, or by sticking with one channel at a time until it has looped fully, then moving onto the next channel.

In my restless dreams, I see that town. I see its fog-drenched foothills and derelict buildings. I see its dead-end alleys and blank-faced inhabitants. And though it's not the same haunt that ensnared Harry, Heather, James, and the others--the same town that’s siren song broke many a man while simultaneously building one of the most iconic horror game franchises in existence--Silent Hill f's Ebisugaoka is still a place that demands your attention; a place that, once you're there, you never truly leave. Or perhaps more aptly, it never leaves you.

The same can be said for Silent Hill f itself. Although the game distances itself from previous entries in the series--most notably by trading in its Lynchian-meets-Boschian ambience and small-town America setting in favor of slow-burning Japanese horror and the humid foothills of Honshu--its overall experience is every bit as memorable as those offered by its predecessors. And yet Silent Hill f is not merely a somewhat-divergent continuation of a beloved series; it's an evolution, offering several gameplay improvements while also paving a new path forward. With its brilliant writing, well-designed and strategic gameplay, engaging combat, and spectacular visuals, Silent Hill f firmly establishes itself as a phenomenal work of psychological horror and among the best entries in the Silent Hill series.

Though Silent Hill f's setting is, to be cliche, very nearly a character in itself, at the center of the game's story is Shimizu Hinako, a young high school student who is violently thrust into a disturbing version of her hometown. In the game's opening moments, it's made clear that Hinako's relationships are rife with tension. As a young woman growing up during the late 1960s, much of this tension stems from her resistance towards being a "proper" young woman, much to her parents' dismay. In her journal, she writes that her father is the very definition of a patriarchal husband--demanding, severe, and domineering--while her mother is passive to the point of cowardice. For a long time, Hinako's older sister, Junko, was the only person she could rely on for companionship and protection. This changed, however, once she got married and left home, leaving Hinako alone and drowning in resentment.