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“Corrupted by the darkness, now you fall into an endless sleep.”
I don’t even know where to start. You already know. I already know. It hasn’t been a month and already, this is a title that’s going to dominate the Steam Bottom 100. Is it going to take over Flatout 3? It’s looking likely, and it’s more than deserved. This isn’t just a bad game, this isn’t just something that’s been hyped up to a boiling point like Ride To Hell. Folks, I give you the 2020 remake of XIII.
XIII was an FPS from 2003, developed by the now-defunct Southend Interactive and Ubisoft Paris. The game was an adaptation of a Belgian comic from the 80s, chronicling the adventures of one Steve Rowland, also dubbed “XIII”, stuck in the middle of a major government conspiracy. Not only does it involve him as the killer, but it also involves the entirety of the US superpower.
See, it wasn’t just a generic shooter campaign with splashes of James Bond thrown over it. This had charm, pizzazz, intrigue, a well-thought-out spaghetti junction of twists and tricks, and it had Adam Fuckin’ West. All of it topped with the jazziest soundtrack this side of Jet Set Radio, and an aesthetic which, to this day remains completely unique. Still, this is all retrospective now. XIII didn’t exactly set the world afire, even though it had every right to, and to this day the cliffhanger of the game has yet to be resolved, even in the graphic novel.
This was an issue the remake could’ve potentially fixed, but as warning signs began to emerge, the build-up to XIII (2020) was like watching someone fall in slow motion. You had to pray that their parachute was going to work, pray that they were going to stick the landing. A trailer showing off the new look? Where’s the cel-shading? Where’s the comic book style characters and world? Pre-order DLC? We’re reaching terminal velocity here. 1,000 feet and counting. Cut to November 10th, and… they’re dead. They’re just straight-up dead.
XIII (2020) isn’t just a travesty of FPS design, this is a mockery of everything that Southend and Ubisoft built up from the original vision. There’s no style, no grace, funny faces, and absolutely none of it is enjoyable. From the moment you begin to actually play this thing, you begin to quickly realize that this is far more different than any other title that reaches such a legendarily awful status.
Take the Brighton Beach opening, for example. In the original, a rather attractive lifeguard finds you on the beach, patches you up the best she can, before she is immediately killed by assassins looking to end your life as well. The “RA-TA-TA” of the bullets, the crunchy smashing of the windows, the entire set piece was a showcase of everything XIII (2003) aspired to be: A comic book come to life.
Here, the attractive lifeguard looks like a Fortnite model made for GMod RP sessions, and the visible onomatopoeia and heavy cel-shaded graphics have been reduced significantly. In fact, it looks more like a Fortnite map than it does a remake of one of the most stylized shooters of all time, what is this? Are we chasing current trends? Why didn’t you just make the game into a battle royale?
If the excuse for reducing the comic book style integrations was so it didn’t clutter the screen, XIII (2003) never had this issue, and even if it was, it was a strength more than anything. The way the screen would shake during explosive fights, the cut-ins of a throwing knife piercing an enemy skull panel by panel, the panels showing a man atop a cliff falling to his death after being shot? This was all rewarding more than it was intrusive.
Now, there’s no reward. Enemy deaths are now awkward rag-dolls, never reacting realistically to their cause of death. It makes Half-Life 2′s Combine soldiers dying look like Pixar. When you hit someone over the head with a broom, or glass ashtray in XIII (2020), you imagine a comic-book explosion, a “BANG!” punctuating it. Instead, the NPC stays still for a second or two, then they register a devastating blow to the head and fall down. It’s like the broom has dial-up.
Gunplay has also been downgraded, morphing into a nebulous shooting gallery akin to the Bulletstorm joke Duty Calls. Iron sights aiming has been added, along with an extremely limited weapon wheel that’ll only let you have one of each weapon category. If this were a less demanding shooter, this wouldn’t be a problem, but a couple of issues crop up.
For one, the iron sights haven’t been tweaked properly, with all of the guns having next to no recoil when you aim down the sights. This makes gunfights an obviously intense match of laser pointing, lacking weight and precision, mostly due to how awfully the game controls. Steve Rowland aims his guns like he slept the night before with his arm hanging off the bed, numb as he attempts to slowly train his sights over an enemy’s noggin’.
XIII (2020) also hosts one of the worst shotguns ever put into a video game. It holds 5 shells, may not reload properly, is extremely stiff when it comes to the fire rate, and is about as accurate as historical events in Call of Duty. If you hit a shot on someone, however, be prepared for it to do absolutely nothing, since one-hit kills only ever seem to register with clear headshots. It makes DOOM 3‘s shotgun look like the VK-12.
As for the weapon wheel, why do the M60, Harpoon, Sniper Rifle, and Bazooka take up the same weapon slot on the wheel? When it comes to the 9mm and .44 Magnum taking the same slot, it makes sense, but there are moments where a Sniper Rifle and Bazooka are both necessary in the same firefight. Forcing the player to choose a single weapon for each slot seems like an artificial difficulty cap, especially when the original title retained a difficulty curve with such a large arsenal.
Speaking of difficulties, this review is based upon a playthrough on the hardest difficulty, dubbed “XIII”, doubling down on muscle memory only to find out it isn’t necessary. Not only is the gunplay insultingly simple, but the A.I has also went through several lobotomies over at Plain Rock. The strategy the A.I possesses isn’t exactly mind-bending either, resorting to a tried-and-tested method of missing the first few shots, then hitting you with a flurry of headshots.
A stealth option is viable, but that’s only because the A.I is so fucking stupid, they won’t notice you walking up to them. You could come in, strapped with an M60 and blowing nearby soldiers to bloody pieces, and they’ll still need a second to register the dead body before attacking. They may not even register it at all, because they’re too busy registering a bullet they heard 10 minutes ago. What I’m trying to say is that the game has some bugs… Jesus Christ, does this game have some bugs.
Sound clipping. No sound during cutscenes. Frame rate dips. Missing music. Broken body models. Clipping through the map. Soft-locking. Failing to climb up or down ladders. Removing your inventory if you reset to a checkpoint. Idle animations repeatedly playing during flashbacks. Spawning you into a floor. Failing to pick up weapons. Game crashes. All of this and more is available to you if you decide to play XIII (2020). No hyperbole is in use when it is stated that this is the most broken game of the year.
The major issue with the performance of this game, however, is that it retroactively taints the original’s performances. In any other light, David Duchovny’s lazy deliveries and quiet voice would be cause for concern, and accusations of a hack job would be thrown. In XIII (2003), it was a personality bought forth by the aesthetic, and the timing of the gameplay. The pacing and the style damage XIII (2020), and not just in how it looks.
Take any glitch from any other monumentally bad game, whether it’s Ride To Hell, Drake of The 99 Dragons, Remothered: Broken Porcelain, SHiNY, Tyler: Model 005, Hello Neighbor, Gene Rain— None of these games have even half of what XIII (2020) possesses, and I wish I was kidding. It is extraordinary how pitifully mish-mashed together this game is.
Why not tell me the best glitch you saw in the game? Mine was during the helicopter boss fight in the docks, which saw the helicopter get stuck on overhead cranes, forcing it to spin in place whilst not being able to fire accurately. After several rockets were shot at the chopper, it was freed! Only for it to spin in place once again, except this time it wasn’t stuck on anything. It just died, and there’s no other way to put it.
To call XIII (2020) “dead on arrival” is nothing short of an understatement. Before the door was even opened, the funeral went ahead, and there’s no way Playmagic or publisher Microids are going to be able to resurrect it with patches. This will always be known as a travesty, a mockery, and a pitiful attempt to bring back a title that deserved a spotlight for the past 17 years. Now, it’s in the spotlight for all the wrong reasons.
Whether you’re a fan of the original XIII or not, this isn’t a game that’ll make you angry. No, this is more of a dejected adventure through an inferior version of the most stylistic and revered shooter that never got the respect it deserved. What creative decisions have been made to either mute or remove the original vision aren’t for the better, and there is no way that this game can be fixed to be “better”. Whether it’s in 60FPS or 30FPS, whether the audio was consistent or not, this is inferior in every way.
One could ask why it even needed to be remade in the first place. A port is not only cheaper, but also a better way of getting a sequel to figure out THAT BLOODY CLIFFHANGER. The effort of completely changing everything seems confusingly delusional, both from an economic standpoint, and when it comes to appealing to fans of the original. Nobody was asking that this game would stop showing off its looks.
Even the multiplayer has been completely butchered. It’s gone from a maximum of 6 players to 4, 14 maps to 3, is local only even on PC, and features no bot support. None of these changes are improvements, moreso when it comes to the baffling omissions on PC. Who huddles around a computer screen for a PC game, especially when one of you are going to be forced to play with a game-pad? Madness.
Remake-wise, this is the antithesis to Resident Evil 2. Graphically, this is the antithesis to the original XIII. Gameplay-wise, it’s the antithesis to TimeSplitters 2. It is one of the worst remakes ever made, one of the worst FPS’s ever made, and one of the worst games released this year, and will be sure to arrive in a decades-end list in 2030. I don’t write this with rage, I write it with regret, but at least the original is still commercially available.
It goes for pocket change on Steam almost all of the time, and it’s timeless. Great combat, wonderful set pieces, that goddamn jazzy soundtrack, an enrapturing story, a diverse and brilliant cast of characters, consistently entertaining stealth sections, so on and so forth. Not enough praise can be thrown at the original, and the only silver lining to the insult that is XIII (2020) is that more people check out the blueprint.
Thanks for that, I guess.
This Review of XIII (2020) is based upon the Xbox One version of the game.
“When the demon’s knocking on your door, you’ll still be staring down the floor.”
Well, October has come and gone with the speed of an incontinent cheetah, and the current world situation has left the spooky scenarios lacking. You can’t appreciate a horror film when you’re living in one that’s absolutely boring, and you can’t appreciate horror games when you’re playing the most dangerous one of all: life. Pretentious paragraph out of the way, Remothered: Broken Porcelain.
This is the sequel to 2018’s Remothered: Tormented Fathers, a quaint but effective horror title masterminded by Italian game designer Chris Darril. Whereas Tormented Fathers had you playing as not-Clarice Starling, Broken Porcelain has you playing as not-Suzy Bannion, a meek but troublesome girl working at an inn. Spooky happenings occur as the hotel owners begin to become murderous, and soon enough, not-Suzy Bannion can’t trust anyone she sees.
If you haven’t played Tormented Fathers but like the look of Broken Porcelain, the game has an “ICYMI” video that provides the backdrop and context to the sequel. In short, just know that Tormented Fathers was a title that reached the heights of blisteringly okay. It wasn’t a horror title rewriting the rule book on what needs to be done for the genre, but there was enough going for it to generate interest and hype for the sequel.
Chris Darril has also stated that the Remothered property is intended to be a trilogy as well, which means there’s a giant overarching plot in this, and not just any plot. The thing about both current Remothered titles is that Darril not only wears his influences on his sleeves, he loudly proclaims the inspirations he’s about to wear. It’s a formula that you can spot beat-for-beat in Tormented Fathers, almost to a worryingly prophetic degree.
Bam! The Silence of The Lambs! Bam! Psycho! Bam! Deep Red! Bam! Halloween III! You get the point. While these influences were obvious if you paid enough attention, Tormented Fathers did succeed in feeling like its own idea, like its own property. It’s a benefit that carries on in Broken Porcelain, even if the opening of the game reeks of Suspiria and The Shining.
Even when Darril takes more directly from Western influences and runs with them, it’s the Giallo-inspired sections that work out great for them. In the context of Hannibal, an Argento-inspired piece works out wonderfully due to the juxtaposition and style of it all. Even though it’s not there visually, the one place Giallo films flourish in their aesthetic: you can taste it in the atmosphere.
It doesn’t ring in properly at first, since the game’s horror does seem to be entirely reliant on jumpscares. Even though the game’s atmosphere is ridiculously thick, the audio mixing is so bad that loud noises seem to permeate, no matter how well you tweak the audio options. Your ears will be bombarded with the sound of rushing winter wind, only for the game to scream violins and a scary face, expletive-filled and frothing with hatred.
Still, the threat would be a threat if the A.I. seemed to show consistency. Broken Porcelain has the sheer shitting audacity to make boss fights out of these lobotomized knife-wielders, giving you random tools to end their suffering. The game hosts a fairly extensive arsenal of diversion and defensive items, all of which make sense in a real-world aspect.
The problem comes when the A.I. doesn’t go to it. Maybe it’s too far away, or maybe there’s an inch-high incline that really spooks their frantic mind. Maybe the A.I. does go to it, but because not-Suzy Bannion is as heavy-handed as one can be without piercing a hole through the Earth, they’ll hear you while you’re mid-animation. The most common issue, however, will be that the game soft-locked you while placing an item on the ground, forcing you to restart.
Broken Porcelain is one of the worst-performing games released this year. With a cavalcade of bugs, atrocious frame rate drops, all-too-common game crashes that require full restarts, soft-locking, repeating dialogue, dialogue that skips, dialogue that doesn’t even play once it’s supposed to be initiated, so on and so forth, this game is a masterclass in sheer shithouse optimization.
There’s no way it doesn’t directly affect your enjoyment. The most common diversion item is a music box that not-Suzy Bannion can place down on the ground, but every time you use it, no matter where you are in the game, the game will immediately soft-lock and cause you to restart. This is a game without frequent auto-saving as well, mind you! So, if you really wanna play Broken Porcelain right now, DO NOT USE THE CARILLON.
Even if the A.I. was tuned up, the game still lacks a battleground that could be considered fair. You can sneak up on your enemies and slap them about a few times with a paper knife, but even in crouching, the game still thinks you make noise, and they’ll turn around. Luck is your most reliant ally in Broken Porcelain right now, and I state that with no hyperbole.
A lot of Broken Porcelain is also caked in smug self-satisfaction, a fair trait to possess, but not when it’s so heavy. It might actually explain the murky visuals. Not-Suzy Bannion’s repeated, frightened lines seem to compliment the game’s attributes more than it seems to build her character. “Oh, blimey, my handler is now chasing me with a pair of scissors while she’s covered in moths! This is all so surreaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal,” she says with 0% irony.
See, the expository dialogue was acceptable in Tormented Fathers if you knew that this was going to be a trilogy. It made sense, but the first game’s ending didn’t leave a lot of openings. Broken Porcelain not only seems dedicated to starting a brand new narrative, but its connection to Tormented Fathers seems forced, and no amount of exposition can fix that. For a trilogy that’s ten years in the making, it seems finicky, lacking in solid footing, like not-Suzy Bannion’s complete inability to approach a set of drawers.
Broken Porcelain loves contextual button presses, and it’s there to provide the game with a lived-in atmosphere. As you hide yourself from poorly explained killers, you’ve gotta scour through shelves, desks, and wardrobes in order to find the materials necessary to beat the killers. Because of just how many desks and wardrobes exist, though, trying to grab items in a five-drawer desk with seven potential contextual button presses has you wrestling with a lethargic camera.
It’s an annoying thing to sit through, and it shouldn’t be. It’s doubly annoying that it can affect the gameplay in such a manner, too. Maybe there’s a realism to frantically searching a drawer for an item to use against someone who’s ready to use your face as theirs, only to slam the drawers closed repeatedly; I don’t know. It doesn’t make for a primarily intense experience though, does it?
It’s weird because even though Broken Porcelain is a bomb in terms of how it performs, plays, and acts, it’s still endearing. It still possesses an allure that may come from the origins of this entire Remothered palaver: a man dedicating ten years and tons of resources to see it through. Is it worth it for you to join me on this journey with Darril? No. No, absolutely not.
Despite a competent vision, Remothered succeeds only in an atmosphere that’s immediately defused by atrocious gameplay aspects. These boss fights that stink up the air of Broken Porcelain rely on mechanics too broken to compensate for a worthwhile victory. Their threat is gone when the character’s voices keep switching between quality and audio channels. This isn’t fun to play, and it isn’t fun to watch.
The breaking point was another boss fight against a meek man with an unloaded revolver. The game screams at you to use a fire extinguisher against him, but for some reason, when you pick up the fire extinguisher, not only does it equip, but it also takes the spot of a crafting item. If you drop the crafting item, you drop the fire extinguisher, and it disappears.
No. Absolutely not. I refuse. Broken Porcelain is more than just a red-headed stepchild. This somehow kills all tension and chutzpah that Tormented Fathers painstakingly built up from nothing but a terrible name. All of these atrocious, fast-paced mechanics placed into a slow-burn horror, all of these glitchy obstacles, all of these piss-poor lines of dialogue pathetically attempting to establish a threat.
Even though I’ll merrily trek on to see this hodge-podge of different inspirations culminate into a nebulous blob of poor excuses and telenovela plot twists, I’m not going to smile. I’m just going to sink back into defeat, watching as another horror game attempts to out-do everyone else. It’s not just Friday The 13th, it’s Mission: Impossible. It’s not just Phenomena, it’s the opening scene of The Dark Knight.
Read the room.
This review of Remothered: Broken Porcelain was based upon the Xbox One version of the game. A review code was provided for this purpose.
The Suicide of Rachel Foster deals with some heavy themes that require sensitivity on the part of the developer. Suicide and rape aren’t themes you toss around at the dinner table at your grandparents’ house. Not every story that deals with themes like these needs to be revolutionary, but they do need to be revelatory.
The developers at ONE-O-ONE Games have crafted a game that is bold and doesn’t overstay its welcome. Even so, there are a few points during the game that offer some frustration. So is The Suicide of Rachel Foster just another walking simulator or does it have something fresh to offer?
The story of The Suicide of Rachel Foster centers primarily around Nicole, a woman whose relationship with her father molds much of who she is. Her father was a horrible person in many ways, some of which you’ll learn about as the narrative unfolds. Nicole has inherited a hotel from her father and decided to find a buyer.
She finds herself stuck on the property, alone, due to a blizzard. She has the support of her FEMA agent, Irving, with whom she communicates via an old phone. This is the stage for the narrative to unfold.
I’ll dive into a few of the themes and characters without diving too much into the details of the narrative. As mentioned before, The Suicide of Rachel Foster handles several themes that most creatives shy away from. I would say that the game does a decent job of presenting and dealing with them. It doesn’t make light of the molestation that happens and sets up an antagonist that is downright evil.
Nicole comes across as a bit too gullible throughout the story, which is explained as a product of her childhood traumas. My problem with her gullibility is the way in which she is presented, which is smart, astute, and capable. It’s almost as if the writers decided where the story would go without taking Nicole’s character into account. As the central character, this just doesn’t work.
Irving is cheerful and does his best to assist Nicole whenever he can, even if he can’t be there in person. He’s a bit naive and becomes quite the likable character for Nicole to bounce her sarcasm off of as they converse.
If those sound like characters you’d like to explore, then this game will be worth your time. Not every narrative thread is earned by the end of the game, which is one of my biggest gripes with the narrative. There are too many shocking revelations in the story. This isn’t a negative for some narratives, but this isn’t that long of an experience; a longer game would have had the time to properly set the stage for the ending.
You could categorize this game as a walking simulator, as you’ll spend a long time walking in the sizable hotel. Since the game’s narrative is primarily told through a cell phone, it requires Nicole to pick up the phone to chat. This means you’ll spend a long time pacing or standing still while the dialogue exchanges happen.
A better-designed game would have you do something while these conversations take place. Although the dialogue is mostly engaging, I found myself walking around aimlessly in order to feel like I was participating somehow. It would have been nice to have most of these moments be shorter or more involved.
There is some interaction with in-game objects; you can pick them up and observe them or complete some puzzles. But there are many items that have no purpose, and it feels kind of arbitrary which items get this treatment. Packs of cigarettes can be picked up throughout the entire game but add nothing to the narrative.
Your main means of guidance are the notes Nicole scribbles on her map of the hotel. They are mostly clear, but you’ll run into some confusion about what you’re supposed to do or where you’re supposed to go. The map is split into floors, which each have their own page, with important locations marked by name.
The problem is that it’s difficult to know which floor you’re on because the map will not mark where you’re currently standing. You’ll have to figure out your location based on markers that aren’t clear. I spent most of my time lost while navigating the hotel.
That being said, the environment is interesting and fleshed-out really well. The hotel feels like a real location with a decent amount of things to look at. I just wish the map did a good job of getting me to the right places.
Both central characters’ voice actors put out performances that transcend the lines they are given. The actors are the highlight of this game. They have fantastic chemistry, similar to what is provided in Firewatch. The constant sarcasm is the highlight of conversations for me. There’s plenty of playful banter, but also appropriate moments of seriousness.
Music is sparse but comes in at the right times to punctuate moments of revelation. Silence speaks just as loud and is necessary to build the sense of solitude that Nicole feels. The sound design is nothing to scoff at since it does its job of feeling realistic and grounded.
I enjoyed my time with The Suicide of Rachel Foster less often than I would have liked. There were too many times where the game’s design got in the way of the story it was trying to tell. If you can put up with some of those obstacles, you should be able to enjoy this game. Otherwise, it’s almost impossible to recommend this game.
This review of The Suicide of Rachel Foster is based on the PlayStation 4 version. A review code was provided by the publisher.
Word player, note manipulator, and logic breaker. My favorite game is The Last of Us. I’ll argue with you about it all day. Try me. “To the edge of the universe and back, endure and survive…”
“Died to stay there, never have to leave there.”
It’s 2020, and it appears that roguelikes… well, they aren’t dying, but they sure seem like they’re slowing down. Once you’ve unsuccessfully tried to make Dark Souls into a roguelike — multiple times — the collective groans can be heard across the galaxy. Nevertheless, it’s time to come full circle, back to the “go big or go home” formula, and GoNNER 2 is indicative of that.
This is the latest game from Art in Heart and the sequel to the cutesy but brutal roguelike platformer, GoNNER. Once again published by the Devolver Digital of Devolver Digital, Raw Fury, the game follows the treks of the charismatic blob Ikk, who is seen doing dirty work for Death once more. Death’s home is being tormented by new threats, and she calls upon Ikk to clean up her house once more, a new cavalcade of visions awaiting them.
If you haven’t played the original GoNNER, it’s not exactly recommended for the sequel, unless you want to see the original vision. GoNNER 2 is more mechanically advanced, almost terrifyingly so, and everything, from the aesthetic to the music to the bosses, has seen tweaks and upgrades. On the surface, GoNNER 2 is almost thrice as big as its predecessor.
More guns! More heads! Fewer backpacks — no, wait. It’s all fairly obvious from when Ikk first plops into the grassy knoll of Death’s humble abode. The hub area is a perfect place to not only see what all your fancy pick-ups will be, but also get used to the new movement system in place. Should you be returning from Ikk’s original adventures, then this will certainly be a “ripping off the stabilizers” experience.
As opposed to the original’s limited left and right movement, with the wall-slidin’ and jumpin’ for good measure, GoNNER 2 has been given a tweak with directional aiming and dashing. It feels a lot more fluid, with gameplay and gunplay fusing brilliantly with it. Whereas the first GoNNER saw you outmatched in certain scenarios, the new movement and aiming system provide a fairer chance, with the aesthetic being the true challenge.
Everything’s a lot fuzzier visually in GoNNER 2, and that’s a good thing. The tribal and plinky-plonky nature of the original GoNNER has now been replaced with warm hugs of bright blazes, smoother animations, and a beautiful display of combat. The game has kept its tempo-increasing combo system, with the upgrade being an immense flood of flat colors that radiate wonderfully as everything explodes. It’s DOOM: Eternal for people who take ambien.
It’s the collision of the gunplay and music which is GoNNER‘s unique trait, and it continues to be improved so much more in GoNNER 2. The new tracks from returning beat-maker Regular Graphics feel more claustrophobic, but the tracks don’t just increase in tempo as your combo gets higher. They form new landscapes of sound, the highlights being Pool Party, Blast from The Past, Tolu Mata, and The Granny Exorcism.
Still, when the ethereal bliss hits and the screen and sounds become a visual/auditory bliss, you wouldn’t be remiss to find yourself unable to follow the action at all. Aside from turning off the screen shake, there’s no way to tone down the action of GoNNER 2, which does get hectic, quite unbelievably so for a 2D platformer. In the long run, it might not be a deal breaker considering how difficult it is to actually initiate it, or rather, the difficulty in general will put you off.
GoNNER 2 is hard, but it doesn’t come down to enemy placement or poor level design. It’s more that the movement is a wild beast that’s nearly impossible to tame. Ikk moves with such fluidity, and so do the enemies, but it’s the bosses and their weird animations that’ll throw you off. It’s like an accursed puppeteer is pulling their strings in the background, which considering the story, might not be that much of a stretch.
In order to get good at GoNNER 2, you need to be smart, not just a gung-ho warrior. As the combo climbs up and up and up, you also have to consider exactly where everything on the screen is and where it’s going to go. It’s a difficult thing to consider that mindset on its own as well, as GoNNER‘s other main gimmick is the limitation of only being able to see a few feet in front of Ikk.
Only enemies will be plastered on the screen in full force, but walls and platforms will require potentially foolish exploration, which usually ends in a reward. Placed around the levels are heads you can pop open for a trove of coins, combo multipliers, and upgrades. They’re fairly standard implementations, almost to the point of humdrum simplicity, but that’s to GoNNER‘s strengths more than anything else.
Take the customization available for Ikk, which slowly adds to your hub world with each successful find. The heads you can plop onto your adorable blue blob make such small tweaks to how Ikk performs in-game, but because of this focus on minimalism, it expands your play styles significantly. Even the guns, with range being the primary factor in their effectiveness, make minute changes become major.
It’s the “easy to learn, hard to master” principle, but on every factor. Art in Heart plays every card with such confidence, despite what some could consider alienation in its mechanics and design. The way the game simply stops in its tracks once you complete a run, the passive “You Died Again” when Ikk meets his fate, the cynical achievement descriptions — if you’ve played Art in Heart’s previous works, this is more of the same, but if you’re new, it’s a slight obstacle one would have to work around to be rewarded with comfort.
For example, the first GoNNER has your first boss fight end with an encounter with the now-infamous Sally the Whale, with her watching your every movement. Her small smile and chirpy image reactions were so disgustingly saccharine, they turned back around to heart-warming pleasure. GoNNER 2 not only replaces her presence, but explicitly states her departure from the series, with the new Sally somehow being more of a delight.
They speak in warbles and offer nothing but love. Flora and fauna sway in their presence, animals aren’t afraid of their slim build and lurching figure. They grab Ikk with an unintentionally scary grasp, and love. It throws you off at first, but the game design language in plain sight, and even then, it’s nice to be held. It’s nice to be loved. It’s nice to know that someone cares.
That’s where GoNNER 2 shines. It’s certainly a shorter game than its predecessor, with only 5 base worlds and 4 of them playable in a run, but it’s how Art in Heart communicates to the player within the sequel that makes it much more endearing. The gameplay is much tighter, even with an inherent lack in verticality, thanks to some varied arenas. Despite this shortened length, this is a fully-fledged sequel just as much as it is a personal statement.
GoNNER 2 is art, crafted with a perfect balance of commercialism and slight auteur genius. It speaks not just from the heart, but the hip as well, with cathartic gameplay and wholesome narrative beats. Even though it has objectively less to offer than its predecessor, it hits more than it misses, with the steps it takes being bold. It’s a warm hug and a punch to the gut, a curry with a kiss.
This review of GoNNER 2 was based upon the Xbox One version of the game.
**SPOILER/CONTENT ALERT! Plot elements of This is the Zodiac Speaking will be discussed here for the sake of critique. It also includes a description of the death of a young girl. If either of these factors are troubling, then please tread carefully while reading.**
“Come kill me, I seem so brittle.”
In 2006, a UK TV show called Psychic Private Eyes followed the adventures of three of the UK’s best psychics and ghost whisperers, deducing crimes by talking to the dead. Beyond a general lack of good intentions, the most horrific episode involved the trio attempting to solve the murder of a young girl. This results in the deduction that her remains were buried underneath another grave in an actual graveyard, with pesky human rights laws getting in the way of their vigilante work.
My point is that the art of being a medium, or believing to have some spiritual connection to the dead, is dubious at best and hideously offensive at worst. There’s a vulnerability to the bereaved that some find easy to manipulate, whether it be for the endgame of fame, power, or sick egotistical pleasure. It’s something that resonates in some capacity to a playthrough of This is the Zodiac Speaking, and whether that’s for better or worse? We’ll see.
This is the sophomore release from Polish developer Punch Punk Games, a video game rendition that depicts the murders of the Zodiac Killer. We play as Robert Hartnell, a potential nod to famous Zodiac obsessive Robert Graysmith, depicted by Jake Gyllenhaal in the 2007 film Zodiac. Mr. Hartnell attaches himself to the case in a rather unhealthy fashion, culminating in dream therapy sessions which see him not solving the mystery, but rather… I don’t know.
There’s an odd agency to This is the Zodiac Speaking, but it fluctuates and dissipates over time. The actual timeline of events regarding Robert’s story are unclear, and the game never explicitly states the impact he has on the chain of events. Given the actual historical context of the Zodiac Killer there’s a lot of fiction you could create, and This is the Zodiac Speaking certainly tries, but in a completely different direction than you’d expect.
For example there’s the murder of one Cheri Bates, which has been disputed profusely as a Zodiac killing. This is the first case Mr. Hartnell latches himself onto, which partially sets off a deep dive not just into Robert’s consciousness, but the work of the Zodiac Killer themselves. Why? Well, it’s complicated when it comes to the narrative, but in gameplay it’s a rather mundane affair.
This is the Zodiac Speaking not only has you inspecting crime scenes, but also locations where the Zodiac Killer is setting up for the main event. These locations are usually constructed from witness testimonials, with the dream therapist initiating the scene for you. From there, you begin to piece together the actions of the Zodiac Killer, but only one thing matters.
Despite what the game may imply, there’s no real detective work going on. Clues are merely optional choices for you to find, and the real puzzle is setting up the chronology of what happened when and where. It’s always four specific events, and the game never punishes you for being sloppy, unless you count an arbitrary threat as a punishment.
During these dream sequences, a manifestation of the Zodiac Killer will stalk the maps looking for you. If he catches you, you’re brown bread and you have to start over, so you have to deduce the crime somewhere safe and find a part of his infamous cipher before you can leave safely. It’s an odd execution which ultimately doesn’t pay off due to how half-hearted the inclusion is.
The whole “you die in your dreams, you die for real” presentation isn’t the bad part; it’s the fact that there’s so little gameplay connected to it. There’s no hiding mechanics or even hiding spots, you can only crouch or sprint for a short time. While the Zodiac Killer isn’t frustrating to play against, it’s the lack of any mechanics that makes it tedious.
A quick side note: if you do end up playing This is the Zodiac Speaking on console, be warned that the game has no stick dead-zones. If your controller suffers from even the slightest amount of drift, then be prepared to drift right into the Zodiac Killer’s view. It’s a negligible albeit annoying problem the gameplay has, but this can be removed via a “story mode” that gets rid of the Zodiac Killer in-game.
As is the case with a lot of these narrative-heavy titles with an obligatory threat, it’s a welcome addition. However, this suffers from the same problems that SOMA‘s “No Monster” difficulty mode has, in which the threat being removed also removes everything the game has, beyond its writing. Does This is the Zodiac Speaking have more than SOMA without the threat? Yes, but not by much.
Outside of the dream sequences, you’ll also trawl around Robert’s house, watching in vain as it accumulates more rubbish blocking doorways. It’s a sign symbolizing his obsession with a case he has no right to be obsessed in, but it’s not smartly done, it happens off-screen with no build-up or commentary. You’re able to inspect all of these discarded cans, empty cigarette packets, and unfinished TV dinners in their low-poly glory, but there’s no need, as no new info is ever retained.
A good example of this would be when Robert attempts to piece together the events of the real-life murder and attempted murder of Cecilia Ann Shepard and Bryan Calvin Hartnell, respectively. Robert knows the dates, he has the information not just in the level, but it’s been in his journal, yet it feels more like you have to crowbar your way into a solution.
Even if staring at a packet of Rothmans really hard was the answer to finding out whether it was really Arthur Leigh Allen committing the murders, one deduces it’s not exactly a selfless endeavor. This is more of a character study regarding Robert, and it’s a pretty awful one at that, once again lacking agency and any sort of arc beyond worrying obsession. He speaks with a repetitious tone, failing to show any emotion, even as he describes gruesome details and visions of bodies being brutalized.
It all feels tasteless. Robert supposedly helps his victims before they die, leaving him with a complex that matters ultimately to him and him alone. Soon, it becomes less about the obtuse mystery of the Zodiac and how it haunts Robert, and more about Robert’s past which you shouldn’t care about. Robert is a blank slate, a one-note character with no traits, no quirks, and no motivation beyond what the game promises he has somewhere.
Part of the problem comes down to the lack of NPCs. Aside from the dream therapist lazily enabling Robert’s dangerous mental tendencies, no one is there to comment on Robert’s actions, only Robert himself. He repeats constantly that he’s haunted by the Zodiac, haunted by the victims, all the while still trying to detour the game’s narrative to his own childhood suffering. It reeks of both self-importance and lethargic writing.
The only person who ever comments on just how lost Robert is is his ex-girlfriend, Monica, but she’s out of the picture before he even starts wrecking his house. Everything, from the way Robert repeats several times his suffering and results to the way the story suddenly departs from the initial mystery, lacks focus. This point is amplified tenfold with the aesthetic, but in a good way.
This is the Zodiac Speaking sets up an uncomfortable visual style that makes a lot of sense, given the mystery of the game’s villain. No one has a face, just ‘60s hairstyles and concave features where their eyes should be. Every building beyond Robert’s house is both defined and undefined, adding to the dreamscape that Robert sets himself up in each session. It definitely helps, more so than the completely unnecessary film grain added to each dream sequence that cannot be turned off.
Before each level starts you’re treated to an overview of the level, and it’s usually awash in one main color. Suddenly, the environment is covered in a thick fog, and a grotesque layer of film grain removes a good chunk of the surreal. The fog hiding a potential draw distance setback is fine but the film grain is a touch too far, removing a lot of the allure the art style has. That being said, even with these setbacks, the game has some problematic performance issues.
The lack of dead zones for the joysticks is one thing, but the game’s performance is an obstacle more intrusive than that. Screen-tearing, frame-rate drops, dialogue skipping— This is the Zodiac Speaking has some fairly unavoidable problems when it comes to actually playing it. Punch Punk has addressed a lot of the problems the game has with a patch coming soon, but it should be stated that problems do exist at time of writing.
One struggles to find a point in This is the Zodiac Speaking. One of America’s greatest mysteries is derailed by a need to showcase a boring character, with a twist you won’t see coming due to how nonsensical it is. This is a game marred by tastelessness, unafraid to exploit a decades-old mystery to make no points, and aims to confuse under the guise of “surreal horror”.
Still, none of this matters. Again, this isn’t about the Zodiac Killer, this is about a man who’s pissed off with his ex-girlfriend and uses his obsession to either justify her murder or attempt to reconnect with her. The primer for this decision depends entirely on your preference in photos, with the emotional climax beforehand being the death of Robert’s best friend, a young black girl named Goose, by the hand of Robert’s father.
It’s a bleak scene. It’s a nihilistic scene. It’s… an offensive scene, one made up completely by the writers and that fails to be a competent catalyst for any decision you make afterwards. It’s grasping at straws for sympathy, and it’s even more sickening to consider it when the game was already trying to do that, implying domestic violence between Robert’s parents.
This is a game about the Zodiac Killer. This isn’t a game about the Zodiac Killer. This is a detective game. This isn’t a detective game. This is a true story. This isn’t even a true story. Robert Hartnell does not exist, and neither do his parents. This is a game excavating sadness from a place it shouldn’t. Goose didn’t have to die. There was no reason for Goose to die. Goose died because the game wants it, not the world. A child died for the sake of a child dying.
What could’ve been an interesting look into the theories surrounding the Zodiac Killer a la Room 237, the game instead goes down an exploitative route, all to justify the existence of a faceless man. A man who doesn’t deserve happiness. A man who doesn’t exist.
Is that the point? Whether it is or not, it doesn’t deserve to have a point.
This review of This is The Zodiac Speaking was based upon the Xbox One version of the game. A review code was provided for this purpose.
“I hate that clown, but not as much as Mr. Far. I think I’ll go smoke a cigar.”
When it comes to learning a new skill, being thrown into the deep end is probably not the best strategy, especially if it involves teaching kids how to swim. A lack of context or a rudimentary understanding of the task at hand isn’t the best place to start, but when it’s an act of deliberation? Who knows, maybe it’s knowledge to a higher power, which is certainly what something like GORSD implies.
This is the latest title from Singapore studio Springloaded, a small team whose small catalog covers a lot of bases already. Whether it’s a casual auto-clicker, chiptune rhythm-action, or an RTS/Tower Defense-hybrid, you certainly can’t accuse Springloaded for sticking to one comfort zone. That thought goes tenfold when you see something like GORSD, and almost immediately, you’ll see what I mean.
You play as a rather charming, little, squid-like creature who awakens in a forest that doesn’t seem hostile at first. Soon after, you’re subjected to an indecipherable language before the serene nature is immediately interrupted by abrasive gods taking the form of spherically-lined dragons with twisted faces. It’s quite clear they’re not impressed by your presence, and you’re going to have to work to either co-exist or defeat them.
Immediately, the game’s quite reminiscent of Anodyne; Analgesic’s dreamscape looks into a young being’s psyche, but the comparisons go beyond a similar aesthetic. That calming score that seems to pleasantly overthrow the atmosphere, the way your character is spoken to in potentially deserving condescension. It’s a coincidence, a stretch of the imagination, which is everything this game aspires to be.
There’s certainly a vibe that GORSD immediately wants to jump for, and that’s “weird”. With the spherical dragons screaming at you, the visual design being blared at full volume, and how the game plays— It’s clear that they’re trying to tickle the synapse we possess that powers curiosity. Whether it’s Paranoiascape, Tamashii, or even the classic LSD Dream Emulator, there’s a market for oddities, especially if they’re trying on all fronts like GORSD is.
Does it extend past gameplay? Well, kind of. It’s a mixture of the Light-Cycle game from Tron, and the general objective of Splatoon. You and your adversaries are placed onto a lined grid, with the goal being to color in the entirety of the level with your color only. If the entire level is your color? You win, and curry more favor with these malevolent gods!
It’s not all Jeff Bridges meets schoolgirl squids, however, as trapping someone in your line of color doesn’t destroy them. You’re given a bullet you can fire only once until it hits an objective, whether it’s an enemy or a far-away piece of uncolored land you can’t reach. This bullet can also go around corners, should you press the direction of the upcoming corner as you fire it, which sounds strategic, but in execution, falls flat.
Considering this all relates to right angles and squares within squares, the arena design tends to become more and more complicated, with tactics taking a backseat to luck. Sometimes, the predictive nature of the bullet will work in your favor, but a lot of the time, you’re at the mercy of a bullet that won’t listen to you. In fact, if you don’t pay attention, it can also kill you, which is another decision that adds a degree of unnecessary challenge.
Unless you hold a specific button before you’re about to be hit by your own bullet, you won’t be able to recollect and reuse it, instead committing to a respawn. This wouldn’t be an issue if, say, all bullets fired had their team colors on them, instead of white crosses that blaze across the map. It also wouldn’t be an issue if the game speed wasn’t so lightning fast.
This might be more of a preference than an objective issue, but the game speed of GORSD is insanely quick. The characters and their projectiles dart around the arena with phenomenal speed, and even on early arenas, you tend to find yourself catching your bullet the wrong way. Even if the game speed was tweaked just slightly, you also have the issue of playing a game that’s zoomed out way too far.
What is this, a battlefield for ants? The colors are even harder to determine from this angle as well, with your only insight being a vague colored outline above your character. Yes, you can visibly see the trail your squid will make, but the bullets also make trails, and the AI isn’t exactly blessed with tactics, spamming bullets whenever they can. That being said, it’s the game mode without the AI that shines the best.
Time Puzzles are dripping in fun and intuitive ways to solve them, even when Springloaded takes a Jackson Pollack approach to how the string of straight lines play out. There is a method to the madness, however, and the mere act of using the bullet to color off the beaten path is smart — Smarter here than it is in a competitive environment, at least.
GORSD doesn’t make sense, both in how it approaches its own gameplay, and in general. The Adventure mode promises a seven-hour stroll through some of its most meticulous maps, but that’s only if you decide to let the game torture you with egregious spawn times. Should you be humiliated enough to tune down the difficulty, the journey is sliced in half, maybe even down to two hours.
After the adventure, you only have more AI fights to follow, in repetitive endless modes involving the same AI. It’s only now that you realize how boring a lot of GORSD is; as unflinching as the pacing may be, it still lacks that certain punch, that variety in how you approach a match, beyond randomly spamming bullets. It seems to talk a big game about strategy, but that strategy simply isn’t there.
At its core, GORSD isn’t bad, there’s no inherent traits that specifically mark it down, but it’s the way Springloaded executed how it would be a multiplayer experience that falls flat. What should be an alluring jaunt through aesthetically foreign lands, can’t keep up with its own odd presentation to be consistently interesting. It doesn’t matter how innovative this dish may be, the plate it’s on doesn’t look clean.
This review of GORSD was based on the Xbox One version of the game. A review code was provided for this purpose.
“I was walking on the ground, I didn’t make a sound. Then, I turned around, and I saw a clown.”
When it comes to fighting games, it’s always the indie scene that comes through with something truly enthralling to watch unfold. The janky physics-based action of Nidhogg 2, the pocket-sized fun of Rivals of Aether, or the infamous Skullgirls; there’s something about a mind free of restraints that brings wonderful energy to the screen. Better yet, why not go full M.U.G.E.N on a project and make an indie-game spectacle not unlike Super Smash Bros? Thank Christ for Bounty Battle, then.
This is the debut game from French studio Dark Screen Games, headed by one François von Orelli. Other information about the studio and its history is hard to come by, save for their upcoming game, Rise, and the publisher, Merge Games, who’re a perfect fit. Despite none of their indie game offerings showing up in Bounty Battle, it’s the eye they have in regards to their publishing catalog that holds promise.
There’s no real plot, beyond a disruption in time allowing all of these indie game characters to fight against each other, and the roster is quite staggering. You’ve got Dead Cells, Flinthook, Darkest Dungeon, Guacamelee! — they even got Pankapu! It’s a 2010s dream come true, Superman vs Goku on the smaller screen! So if you’re wondering how powerful Fish from Nuclear Throne is against The Penitent One from Blasphemous, now’s your chance.
If there’s one thing that can be immediately applauded, it’s a diverse roster filled with a lot of charm, unique natures, and an eye for their abilities. Whether it’s Guacamelee!‘s Juan being able to throw further or Flinthook‘s Captain Flinthook using his… uhh… Flinthook to grapple onto enemies and into the fray, it’s all attention to detail. It makes you excited to see what kind of crazy antics one can get up to.
As stated above, the angle Dark Screen is going for with Bounty Battle is the ever-popular Super Smash Bros. format: small arenas, no barriers protecting the edges, up to 4 players, and a few trinkets added that can help turn the tide of battle. More arena brawler than one-on-one, the game has a fairly hefty tutorial attached to it to make sure you know how it is.
It’s your standard affair, what with the light attack, heavy attack, slam attack, block, grab, and ultimates. Bounty Battle‘s main gimmicks seem to be related to, well, Bounties, a system that rewards players for unique combos or eliminating the best player in the arena. These Bounty points can be used to buy support characters that can… I don’t know, actually.
In theory, it sounds like a good idea, but it seems to mostly relate to eliminating the MVP, and with the washed-out colors, that’s an issue. A lot of the guest characters from other franchises have been redrawn in order to accommodate with aesthetic Bounty Battle provides, but they’ve been drawn to look the same. The arenas are also awash in darkness, so trying to pay attention to what’s actually happening on the screen becomes a mess.
It doesn’t help that the arenas lack bite or any sort of variety. Beyond a wallpaper change relating to some of the indie games who have characters featured, almost none of these arenas have any sort of environmental punch. It all takes place on one straight line, you can’t force a tighter fight on a tighter space, the only way you can take a fight is all the way to the right or all the way to the left.
Thankfully, there is small respite in the fact that sticking to ranged attacks is a strategy you can pick. You won’t feel good for doing it, but if you play with more than two fighters on the screen, you have two choices: strategic placement of your character and dodging while they attempt to come closer, or simply button mashing in the middle of the cartoon dust cloud.
It seems like airplay is the name of the game here, since a lot of the specific combos and attacks benefit a more aerial approach. It’s not something you can cheap out either, as air-juggling isn’t viable, and A.I. pays a fair amount of attention as to how everyone plays at all times. It’s fairly responsive, quick to spot flaws in approaches, and in the “Tournament” mode, it shows no mercy.
Unless you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t even attempt Tournament mode. Almost immediately, the game spares no punches on your beginner ass and will instantly task you with specific challenges. Very Hard mode fights, reaching a set amount of eliminations via throw-out, 1v1 fights with higher health and/or damage scaling… and there’s 150 of these challenges! five for each character!
It’s quite a meaty treat to tuck into, especially since it actively works to cover all of the bases as frequently and as much as possible. The only issue one could surmise from the entire affair is a lack of forgiveness for mistakes. All 30 sets of 150 challenges have 5 skins you can unlock for each character, but they only unlock if you complete a challenge without losing a life. When it comes to challenges like the set amount of eliminations, the game employs a horde strategy, which enforces that cartoon dust cloud inevitably to a point of frustration.
As for other features Bounty Battle has, it’s all glorified training, with the only other option being a straight-up Versus mode that allows for up to four players. It’s a fair amount of preparation for when the current global pandemic ends, since at time of writing, the game hosts no online capabilities, only local. While one cannot socially distance on a couch, this would be a good time for siblings, if it wasn’t the awful performance this game possesses.
All of this praise one could latch onto Bounty Battle is squandered, since every match lags, freezes, and stutters the second a single hit is registered. Every time a character runs out of life, the game stops for a full second as it attempts to register what exactly just happened, and it is absolute hell to play, for the most part. Does this make the game unplayable? Yes and no.
When Bounty Battle starts acting up and freezing non-stop, you could always just start button-mashing until the game decides it wants to be your friend again. This isn’t exactly in the spirit, though, is it? When you also take into account just how frequently the game decides to freeze and lock up, you only end up with a game with all of its potential lost.
While a lack of online multiplayer knocks the allure of Bounty Battle down a few pegs, it’s the technical shortcoming that kneecap the entire charade. It lacks tight design beyond smart A.I., it lacks features beyond playing with bots, lacks levels with bite, and feels unfinished, both in what it wants to be and how it should be. Despite a unique roster, it has no unique impact.
This Review of Bounty Battle was based upon the Xbox One version. A review code was provided for this purpose.
“Picture this, if I could make the change, I’d love to pull the wires from the wall. Did you?”
Truth be told, I’ve never owned a PC built specifically for gaming. Funds always go to that part of life that allows you to continue living, but close friends of mine throughout the years have had the opportunity. I’ll always remember seeing Crysis run on my friend’s £2,000 rig in 2008, at a time when I was still playing GoldenEye and Mission: Impossible on the N64. I’m grateful for Crytek allowing me the opportunity to see if I can make those same sparks fly 13 years later with Crysis Remastered.
Yes, the groundbreaking technical achievement of the late 2000s has been ushered into a new age for current-gen consoles in 2020. Crytek’s second baby that was meant to be a showcase of their brand-spankin’-new engine, the first one being Far Cry, but it was Crysis that saw unmatched memetic energy. This is something that Crytek still smugly know, as they talk the talk in terms of hashtags like “#CanItRunCrysis”, but that was 13 years ago. Do they still walk the walk?
The year is 2020, both at time of writing and in-game, just in case this year wasn’t already cursed enough, and you play as Nomad, a lieutenant for Raptor Team. Together with Prophet, Psycho, Jester, and Aztec, Raptor Team hot-drops onto an uncharted island that’s being occupied by the Korean military with unusual energy readings being intercepted. With the American forces doing what they do best by sticking their nose into other people’s business, both entities stumble across a presence neither could’ve predicted.
Before we delve into critique, it should be noted that the track record for CryEngine being used on console ports isn’t exactly healthy. We saw Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric on Wii U, along with the infamous console port of Lichdom: Battlemage, and Homefront: The Revolution. While this is the equivalent of 3 birds defecating on your Ford Focus before work, this has to be a case of developers not knowing what they’re dealing with. I say that with such confidence because the 360/PS3 ports of Crysis from 2011 are great!
Well, not great, but competent! They’re locked at 30 FPS, sure, and the foliage pop-in is about 10 meters in front of your face. However, the performance of the game was consistent! Intense action and smart AI dominate the scene, and all without making your console sound like a Boeing 747. Whether it’s a regular Xbox 360 or an Xbox One S via backwards compatibility, Crysis is a job well done on all accounts, so I have just one question, Crytek: What the hell happened with this actual remaster?
Crysis Remastered on this same Xbox One S doesn’t just run worse, it looks worse. Texture pop-in is common, frame rate drops happen anytime a single bullet is fired, the draw distance casts the land in an awkward fog, and that’s just the tip. It’s almost reprehensible a title known universally for ritualistic benchmarking looks like it’s running on a school computer with Windows Vista.
Insult to injury is added when these technical glitches and issues start to directly affect gameplay. The AI has suddenly become lobotomized, frozen to position and blindfire, fire graphics have become dodgy glitches, and moments of wonder and awe have been set back because of how much the game is struggling to keep up. For a quick bolstering of my point, let’s have a look at one certain scene from the mission “Onslaught”, with screenshots from both the Xbox 360 version, and the remaster.
First off, the Xbox 360 version, which sees the mountain and its surrounding valleys covered in darkness — a common mainstay when it came to the seventh generation of gaming — yet it adds atmosphere. While the original PC version of Crysis saw this mission area covered in an immense fog, this incidental generational setback adds more of a vibe than attempting to copy something superior.
Meanwhile, the same scene running on Xbox One S shows true colors. The foliage, the low-quality mountain, the vague intentions to keep that same fog, and the lack of clouds. It’s all watered down, a cheap knock-off of a scene that should be mind-boggling to the average gamer, and we’re not even accounting for the actual performance during this scene either.
When it comes to Crysis Remastered‘s named objective, it falls spectacularly flat, even when it’s not attempting to do something more stress-inducing, like raytracing. In fact, if you want to see what it’s currently like to attempt ray tracing on an Xbox One X, look no further than this showcase from GameTripper UK. It’s a crying shame that it’s such a letdown performance wise because the actual game mostly holds up for a 2020 audience.
If you’ve never played the original Crysis, it can essentially be described as a slightly less linear version of the original Far Cry meets Ghost in the Shell. You will be in set sections of the island with loading screens, but secondary objectives allow you to feel free in how you approach objectives. Stealth and straight-up brute force are equally encouraged, and playing on harder difficulties is rewarding on completion.
The first half of Crysis is exceptional, making up for a fairly lacking arsenal with some brilliant sound design and gunplay. Every contemporary weapon has weight and power behind it, each shot sounding like it could give God himself tinnitus. While stealth from a distance is frustratingly difficult, tagging everyone with binoculars and picking them off one by one is such a satisfying feeling. Whether it’s the precision rifle, the shotgun, or the minigun, it’s all wonderful.
The game only starts chugging in terms of decent pacing and mission structure when you can tell that Crytek are trying to blow your graphical mind. The aforementioned “Onslaught” mission has you controlling one of the worst tanks in video games, with this remaster affecting the controls heavily. Delayed input is the dish of the day, and that also counts for vehicles in general, so it’s a good thing our Nanosuit allows us to reach 60 MPH effortlessly.
The big reveal is an extraterrestrial structure covered beneath the mountain, and beyond the remaster failing to keep up with this turquoise wonderland, it is hell to play. The zero-G angle is ambitious, but attempting to aim in this weightless nightmare is an arse, and the repetitious nature of this crystalline landscape is confusing to navigate. It’s another graphical showcase, but as we’ve already stated, the remaster lacks the same punch the original did.
The story is also quite aimless. While mystery and a small amount of horror are sprinkled across the affair at first, the game can’t help but reveal it all almost immediately. It’s like in Halo 3 where a Cortana jumpscare would always be preset with your HUD glitching. It’s the same thing here, but the game can’t help but reveal the mystery almost immediately.
You could have maybe said that this was brand-new technology that the Korean military has adopted, or maybe the Koreans are already in a struggle we don’t know about, but no. Instead, the Koreans are vaguely planted as the bad guys until they aren’t. While this is expected for a contemporary war shooter, especially one released during the seventh generation of gaming, it’s quite clear that Crytek have no idea how to write the story appropriately. It’s that expected? With an experiment like Crysis, yes, but still.
After the big ol’ spaceship reveal, the game’s tired of attempting to copy Far Cry, and goes for Halo 2 instead, following a path of aggressive linearity and set pieces. Starting off with an environmental gimmick tied to an escort quest, the game’s final weapon reveal is a poor effort. It feels cheap in your hands, sounds like a playing card in a kids bicycle spokes, yet you’re forced to use it due to its infinite ammo capacity. The reason as to why we can use it is half-baked as well, as the nebulous Prophet continues being some omnipotent force who’s never proven to be so.
It’s also here where you’ll come to find just how annoying the side characters are in the game. Prophet whines in your ear about being cold, marines cry and scream constantly, the One Female Support Character From The Seventh Generation Who Knows About Everything™ is in danger because of course she is. It’s all agonizing to sit through, it’s a roller coaster ride filled with the headless kamikazes from Serious Sam.
Top it all off with an “epic” finale on a military ship, and you have a two-stage boss fight submerged in utter darkness and poor mechanics, along with an anticlimactic ending. Prophet continues being inexplicably awesome only because Crytek promises he’s a badass, when the only decent thing he’s ever done in his life is save Alcatraz in Crysis 2.
While it was a nice reminder of what 2007 had to offer us in terms of gaming, almost none of what Crysis is known for is shown off here. In terms of a remaster, Crysis Remastered is an absolutely piss-poor effort lacking any “woah!” moments beyond a lighting engine that screws up more often than not. Is the actual game still worth playing in this state? Hard call, but all signs point to “no”.
Crysis still has moments of wonder and awe, they’re just not present here. The gunplay is still fantastic, the actual challenge one can face in-game is still rewarding to overcome, and almost every other version can be recommended to find out. As it stands, however, it is all buried underneath a technical failure here, and even the Xbox 360 version is a better option than this… or you could get a PC, I suppose. What counted as high-end in 2007 should be cheap now.
Tell you what, though, if we’re gonna keep remastering games from 2007, get to The Darkness already! Jackie Estacado has been ignored long enough.
This Review of Crysis Remastered was based upon the Xbox One version of the game. A review code was provided for this purpose.
“3 inches above the floor, man in the box wants to burn my soul.”
Y’know, Dark Souls really was this metaphorical bag of Doritos the world wanted to snack on. An irresistible formula that many love the taste of, but no one can fully emulate in the correct way. We’ve had different locales, people extracting specific parts of the original flavor and cutting the portions in half, or in the case of today’s title Hellpoint, just seeing if ASDA’s American-Style Tortilla Chips cover the same bases.
This is the debut title from French-Canadian studio Cradle Games, a team of veterans who formed in early 2015, bringing the idea of Hellpoint to the masses on Kickstarter a year later. One successful Kickstarter later, the game did the rounds at various conventions, along with being a part of ID@Xbox’s recent Game Fest extravaganza. You play as a being born of the new age, a melding between procreation and the digital forefront that we’re all afraid of. 3D printed into a pool of ooze, you’re awoken from your sudden birth and pushed into Irid Novo, a strange space station that’s in the midst of completely breaking down. Spurred on by the voice of your creator, The Author, you now have to find a way off this station… I think.
Alright, let’s keep Dark Souls on the brain for a second here because there’s a lot we need to unpack, and a fair chunk lies in what generally appeals in the Souls series. Difficulty aside, there’s also the execution of the story, the locations, the set pieces, the general vibe one gets from the areas they provide, the PvP— it’s a lot of different things that make this work and when it comes to the emulators, from your Surges to your Sinners to your Salt & Sanctuarys, they only focus on one or two of these elements. Hellpoint isn’t interested in merely making things tough for you, however. No, the game has a really strong theory on how the Souls series works and how they can lure the player in with those challenging fights and well-deserved victories. It’s not just being told to “git gud” that’s on the line either, you also have the delight of figuring out what happened to this world with a friend in co-op.
That’s right, this is one of the first games inspired by Dark Souls to also include a co-op focus, and not just for bosses! The game allows for you to carry a partner along for the entirety of the game, from the first boss to the finish! Not only is this a surprising addition, but it’s also a welcome improvement that realistically doesn’t mix things up too much— a burden for many a Dark Souls-inspired title, but there’ll be more on that later.
Honestly, the first few hours of Hellpoint harbor some exceptionally strong first impressions. The mystery peaks at the beginning, but it does stay there for quite some time, especially when the Author is introduced. While the writing is dragged down by some horrendously pretentious moments, along with no actual standout characters, there’s still an air to the game that’s alluring. Hell, even the combat isn’t that egregious at first. There’s a fair few fights at the beginning that can leave you winning by the skin o’ yer teeth, with a lot of weapons to choose from. Naturally, you’ll have to level up your skills in order to wield some of these items, which include “Reflex”, “Cognition”, “Foresight”, and “Strength”… you really couldn’t think of a fancy word for “Strength”, huh? Admittedly, this is one of those incremental changes that fall right into the silly pile.
Not to digress too terribly soon, but a lot of Hellpoint‘s writing seems like it’s trying too hard to sound smart or different. It’s not “poise”, it’s “tenacity”. It’s not “Energy Recharge Rate”, it’s “Leech”. While it’s a small thing to make a case about, this really does affect what the world is supposed to be, especially when one of the main enemy factions are labelled as “Thespians”. In what mutated and transgression of a world would we live in where a word to describe an actor or actress is used to describe a large disembodied hand that screams and shoot phlegm-filled balls of blood at you?
Hellpoint is pretentious, there’s no two ways about it. The way characters speak, the items in-game that you’ll be wielding, their context within the world, what exactly happened to this space station? It’s all lost in this sea of big words and attempting to sound more clever than it actually is. Nothing is explained directly, it’s always a case of “oh, you wouldn’t understand, this is a group chat reserved exclusively for the demigods”… they say as I destroy all of them by repeatedly slashing their ankles with a bone blade.
The game also features “ghosts”, and not in the way From Software designed it. If you die in an area, or maybe even in a boss fight, then an NPC version of yourself will start patrolling near where you left your Soul— I mean, “Axions”, your leveling up materials. It’s a decent challenge, and it’s not something that you’d immediately assume is unfair, due to the reward of a health potion refill if you beat them.
Despite these atrocious attempts at diverging from normal writing, Hellpoint started off phenomenally strong. The combat has weight, the telegraphing on enemy attacks is visible and animated appropriately, and the environmental design at the start helps ease you into this exceptionally hostile station. As soon as you beat the second boss however, the game opens up, and I mean opens up. From here on out, every single new map is a diatribe of walkways, areas with no actual symmetry or focus to them, just random paths that proclaim “inter-connectivity” the same way a serial killer would proclaim “self-defense!”. The Sohn District, the Arisen Dominion, the Alma Mater offices, they don’t feel like places you can navigate, much like how the first half of Anor Londo in Dark Souls is a collective shrug of shoulders when it comes to how you’re supposed to traverse it.
While Hellpoint never reaches the same perverse architecture, it’s an odd anomaly where the maps feel like strenuous mazes yet only have one clear way to the exit. Anything that could be considered a worthy gift is rarely found off the beaten path, and a lot of the time the game will simply grant you powerful items for mere completions. Hell, at the time of writing you can currently kill the first NPC you come across, take his immensely powerful armor, reload the game, and he’s alive once more with a quest available.
When it comes to exploits, crashes or glitches, Hellpoint has more than its fair share. The hit detection on a lot of the reflex-based weapons tends to only work every other time, the game will sometimes decide that you’re no longer allowed to use your ranged weapons anymore and force a reset, and online is a gamble. Credit where credit is due, you can explicitly state your intentions of what you plan to do in-game, whether it be PvE or PvP. If it would actually work, we’re halfway there.
It’s not just that the match codes are frequently met with invalidity and failed connections. It’s not just that the game doesn’t tell you that you can only post an invite to your world on walls with a handprint, and never tells you if your summon sign has disappeared. If you manage to get past all of this, then you have to pray to the Lovecraftian unspeakable horrors in the black sky that holds our fates that the frame rate doesn’t dip into single digit territory… usually under 5. Hellpoint easily has some of the worst multiplayer of any game released this year. The time it takes to sync is atrocious, there’s no warning for a failed connection to your world, which’ll usually be the reason for your sign disappearing without your knowledge, and the PvP? I wasn’t even able to try out the PvP because I couldn’t connect to anyone.
The biggest problem comes from how combat is portrayed in the later stages. You’ll start fighting bigger dudes in bigger armor, and stunlocking is impossible against anything that can dodge roll. With how temperamental the hit detection can be at times, you’ll usually end up spamming your attacks, and if one of those repeated attacks hit? Your enemy will immediately side step and get a free hit on you while you’re in the next animation. The combat is broken down even further when the camera starts misbehaving, especially in the boss fights. Given that this is inspired by Dark Souls, it’s no surprise that every boss will be eight times the size of your puny 3-D printed body, and to mitigate this you can target individual limbs for attack. The big problem arises when you decide to go in for the kill via a melee weapon, and the camera will inexplicably decide to pan down.
There’s also status effects and debuffs, none of which are appropriately explained in any capacity inside or out of the game, save for Radiation, which caps your health. There’s one debuff however, which increases your FOV to an abnormal amount, which can absolutely devastate you in the later stages of a boss fight. Whether or not it’s intentional, it’s an exceptionally frustrating thing to work around.
The absolute worst thing this game has going for it though, is the platforming. Hellpoint has decided to try and one-up From Software’s infamously egregious platforming by giving you dedicated controls instead of tying it to the B button. This leads into the game getting carried away with jumping puzzles, most of which entirely fail because of the two-gear speeds the movement is inflicted with. If you jump normally, you’ll do a weak hop towards the next platform. If you decide to do a running jump, however, your character will immediately lurch forward with full strength. There’s no in-between nor any prominent in-air control ability. It’s sticky, it’s awkward, and it all comes to a teeth-grinding climax in what is arguably the game’s worst section, with its only saving grace being that this is optional.
At some point, you can head outside of the Irid Novo, and into the cold dead of space, all while basking in the view of a black hole. You’ll need a functional space suit that you can find in the only other space section of the game. Unrealistic exploration expectations aside, once you do find this space suit and craft it, you’re then tasked to complete jumping puzzles and platforming… in zero gravity… and there’s also fall damage… in space.
The entire second half of Hellpoint reeks of unpolished gristle. Lacking in any sort of energy or cohesion, the games open-ended nature can only extend the player’s patience so far. Soon enough, you’ll reach a brick wall in the form of a boss pulling the manipulate the FOV card, and you’ll be forced to untangle the unrendered mess of Christmas wires that is Hellpoint’s map. There’s one path that goes on for quite a while, a winding slide down these demolished block of… I don’t know, apartments? The game doesn’t really fuse Irid Novo as both a living space for the normal humans that go through the 3-D photocopiers, and one where there’s giant guards and beings rolling around. Sure, the maps are sprawling, vast and deep valleys of H.R. Giger’s dreams— just barely, but even then, this is more in favor of the latter. I guess a lot of these humans really don’t mind living in barren voids with no furniture.
The game has you precariously fall down this ruined set of flats in an awkward 3-D platforming section that, like all of the platforming sections, overstays its welcome. Once you reach the end, you come to a door which is locked with a combination unlike the rest. It’s a simple 5-digit lock, unlike the random codes of 2 separate sets of 4 digits you might find around the map, with those corresponding to some silly cryptic puzzle in order to unlock rooms that reward you with… well, nothing. No end-game content, no secret bosses that test your might, just a few items and maybe a platforming puzzle.
Anyway, if this door is locked with a different set of numbers from the rest, then not only is the way to find the combination going to be tricky, but surely the reward is fantastic? Well, for starters, the code is “12345”. No, really, the password is actually what most grandmothers use for phishing websites. After such a trial, your reward is just as meager— 3 dead bodies in bags, two of which are implied to be children, a note emanating that “2 days before retirement” energy, and your character supposedly saying “sad scene”. I just…
I’ve hesitated to talk about the story thus far, because it really is the flavorless cherry on top of this aimless sundae. The aforementioned lack of a middle ground between complex metaphors and knowing exactly what your stakes are in all of this is frustrating, and there’s not a lot driving you to complete it for the most part. Until you collect 100% of the discoveries, you’re not allowed to take on the final boss, so until then you’re stuck repeatedly smacking your head against this obtuse wall that won’t let up.
Is Dark Souls the same? No, not really. Quest-critical items and plot continuations were always approached with an air of importance around them, and there was always an NPC on the visible path to explain things, even if they spoke in obtuse phrasing. Here, you’re lucky if you even get a vague implication of the stakes, or an NPC that even wants to amuse you with the thought of what might be going on here.
The only NPCs that aren’t behind either a jumping puzzle, or an item the game forgot to tell you about, are one who wants you to help him get to his basement, and an out-of-place Native American type who gives you a single gesture. You’re left at the mercy of abstract stupidity, a conga line of being led by the nose with various glimpses into a land that may or may not have dabbled with immortality, may or may not have slaughtered everyone who didn’t abide by their rules. Is not knowing the full extent of the fate of this space station fine? It would be if we knew anything beyond “shit’s fucked”.
As for the finale, it’s underwhelming. Leaving behind any sort of grandeur, the final boss fight preaches some left-field meta commentary on the point of playing video games, and after you beat it you’re immediately put into New Game+, with an NPC proclaiming your futile efforts. Yeah, they’re futile, alright. Playing a game for 20 hours only to be told that nothing really matters because I have to play the game for another 20 hours, and be subject to more broken boss fights with awful cameras and platforming with no in-air control, but this time everyone has more health… God, I love video games.
The nicest thing you can say about Hellpoint is that it tries. It tries too many things at the same time with next to no focus on how to mesh them all together correctly, but it tries. Wildly different environments that eventually mean nothing in the grand scheme of things, wildly different ambitions beyond how others have attempted to emulate the patented From Formula™. In the end however, the game falls over itself trying to blow your mind and your socks off at the same time.
In short, it’s another Dark Souls tribute, marching towards the abyssal doom these worlds always possess. Just like the rest of ’em.
This review of Hellpoint was based upon the Xbox One version of the game. A review code was provided for this purpose.
Roughly 105 years after the publication of Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis, Ovid Works has come out with Metamorphosis, a game inspired by the inspiringly impactful novella. Unfortunately, Gregor Samsa’s psychological adventure in the game pales significantly in comparison to the novella. Kafka’s The Metamorphosis took advantage of every aspect of its medium, which the game utterly blunders at doing. This leads to a distinct lack of fun. Metamorphosis borrows from its novella counterpart both literally and in terms of its acclaim. Just about all other aspects, though, scream mediocrity at best.
Between Grounded, Kill It With Fire, and Metamorphosis, the gaming industry seems to be particularly attracted to the idea of shrinking down to the size of insects. It’s a tremendously interesting concept that explores a different perspective that otherwise may never be experienced. Metamorphosis embraces this quite well. Fists slam on desks that you’re on, making a booming noise. You get nearly eaten after resting on a piece of toast for a moment. The scale is truly brilliant and exciting. The assets are infused with detail to assist in scaling. Everything lying around, such as books, pencils, emery boards, papers, and photos, serve as things to jump on and crawl across. While most games rely on large objects providing the most comprehensive visual and gameplay experience, Metamorphosis flips that on its head and embraces all of the items often considered insignificant in gaming.
It’s a shame that while its concept and perspective was done so well, the developers used it all so poorly. At its core, Metamorphosis explores a mixture the platforming and walking simulator genres. Unfortunately, it largely takes the least fun pieces of both and tries to pass them off as interesting. Jumping from platform to platform is important in platforming games, as the name so obviously suggests, but this is a vague building block that serves as the start of a game’s mechanics. What truly wins awards are the various ways in which you move from platform to platform. Metamorphosis offers one mechanic to accomplish this: sticky substances that help you climb up objects at various angles. Similarly, walking simulators give the most important and boring aspects of the game in the genre’s title: walking. However, every decent walking simulator typically provides some sort of adventure in the form of a narrative in order to keep the engagement of the player, as exemplified in Firewatch and Gone Home. Metamorphosis insists on taking all of the walking and none of the adventure from the genre.
The environments are naturally fascinating, but little of them actually tell any kind of a story that you can get invested in. In the aforementioned walking simulators, you walk as the game tells you a story. In Metamorphosis, you’ll occasionally find a kernel of a story during your endless amounts of crawling from book to book, shelf to shelf, etc. Furthermore, the little bits of narrative crumble under confusion and insufficiency. One-third of the narrative is a comically terrible story about Gregor’s friend Josef, who has been arrested for no reason at all, and I mean that quite literally; one-half of the narrative is Gregor trying to turn himself back into a human, an arc that continually fails to make any sense; and the remaining one-sixth of the narrative is an incomprehensible jumble of society and politics relating to a large network of humans who have turned into bugs like Gregor. Ovid Works put a final nail in the coffin by giving you a choice at the end that feels inconsequential because of the poorly written story that completely disconnects you from the characters.
Catastrophe peaks its head out of every aspect of the plot due to the lack of direction. Is your goal getting to a tower to become a human again, is it saving your friend from a wrongful conviction for… some crime that the writers couldn’t bother themselves to name, or is it helping a cinematographer who has turned into a bug? These points connect in no logical way, yet they’re all treated as integral parts of your adventure. Nothing seems to happen for a reason. At some point, you need a certificate in order to get to the tower. There’s nothing wrong with needing a certificate, but from a storytelling perspective, everything needs to have a purpose. You shouldn’t be able to ask, “Why can’t it be [fill in the blank] instead of a certificate?” If you can ask this, then the certificate is worthless, as is the entire plot surrounding it. Every objective fails this test. It’s painfully obvious that the developers had grand ideas for the different levels and environments, but they had absolutely no clue how to transition between them in a logical manner, leading to a pointless narrative that struggles to keep your attention through the end of the game.
This amounts to a game with just a lot of walking around. An additional hour or so is tacked on from having to have meaningless and overwritten conversations with various bugs, none of whom seem to have any real personality. A good amount of stimulation can still be had from listening to the bugs talk in a strange, gargled language that can almost sound like English if you listen closely. The conversations lose their charm quickly, though, as this strange language and boring dialogue will no doubt give you a headache. By the end, the game feels like a death march towards an ending you never needed or wanted to experience. With such shallow gameplay to back it up, nothing about the game feels particularly fun or clever.
Second to the concept, the best to be said is about the sound design. It certainly can’t compare to your favorite AAA game in this regard, but for the most part, Metamorphosis doesn’t miss a beat with its sound effects. Things can often get quite atmospheric, due largely to the wide array of sounds that envelop your ears when you play with a nice pair of headphones. This can hardly make up for the story and gameplay oversights, but you can view it as a way that the game at least distinguishes itself from other games that fail to do anything unique with their audio.
The mixture of decent sound and a compelling premise with a nonsensical plot and shallow gameplay ends up feeling closer to a bad movie as opposed to even a poorly made game. At least with the movie option, you don’t spend the entirety of the experience carrying the responsibility of occasional platforming and clicking buttons. Metamorphosis fails in everything that truly makes a game fun. However, the tiny glimpses of promise should make for a good jumping-off point for Ovid Works on their next project. They can’t all be winners, and this one certainly isn’t.
This review is based on the PC version of the game. A review code was provided by the publisher.
Brandon is a young writer who loves going deep into games to explore meaning, purpose, and life. He believes that there’s nothing better than getting lost in a world full of characters to love and lessons to learn. He has a special place in his heart for single player games such as Mass Effect and Life Is Strange, but he also blows off some steam playing some of his favorite multiplayer games, like Paladins.