its namakover

Echo Weaver: puzzle platforming done right, in a time loop executed cleverly, in a setting made well, in a game built with real artistry. from the fragmented yet clear way it tells its tale, from the fragmented yet clear way it builds up the talents and powers of the glaive and the rules of the loop and the vision of the setting: there's always something new- a new place, a new detail of the world, a new trick up a sleeve, be it yours or theirs. it draws you in, and much like the loop at its core, it keeps you there, enrapt. good thing that we're not trapped in one moment, then, so that we can see what happens with it next.

Virtue and a Sledgehammer: this is a game of anger born of love. this is a game of screaming at a world that didn't want you, doesn't want you, because fuck them if that means they can stop you existing. sometimes the only way out of a problem- ranging from an entire town turned to machines to mundanely complicated memories- is through. and through is an appealing prospect indeed when you've got a heavy, heavy hammer. i don't think a game has made me feel such emotional catharsis at the collapse of destructible environments before. it's a special achievement, that, and one it knows how to treasure. it loves, it hates. it screams out its messages- messages that can't, won't, ever stop existing.

The Matter of Being: fangames aren't something i was that familiar with prior to this. but with an incredibly deep understanding not only of how the Secret Histories works, but why- with an understanding of aspects use in narrative and in game design - with an understanding of the aesthetics of the mansus and of the world beyond it. they follow well in the footsteps of cultsist sim. with humanised, rich characters to peel back (and twist) the layers of, and with a kind of foe that can engender animosity with barely a sentence, there's a level of interpersonal richness that is simply delicious. tempting, even. always tempting, ever tempting…

Dissolution of the Silent Union: a game about hurt people, missing people, broken people- in a place that is hurt, missing, broken. even time there is all those things. maybe all three are all because society always was. society being all those big forces from all the many people surrounding us like a sea, and all those bigger forces from the individuals within it we let shape us, like a river carving through the land. when she talks, there is darkness. you don't want her to talk. you don't want to hear what she has to say. when this game talks, after, is darkness- before you head in again to see what could ever change. but though it is abstract, though it lacks answers, i want to hear what it has to say. because there's something alone in that darkness, and i think it's just as valuable as any other.

Blackwell: "this plague spreads not through physical proximity, but through emotional proximity", "those who are infected are lost, and must be carbonised", "feel nothing for them. only then can you help them." if you saw a 10 foot mech with a plague doctor's beak, would you expect it to have a heart? if you woke up inside that very frame, and were told what i have told you, would you? it is a game primed to be cruel. from the invasive nature of its examination puzzles to the dismissive options offered without fault. indeed, it's certainly not one with any mercy, or propensity for happy endings. and that makes the costly moments of vulnerability- not just chosen by the player, but those attempted by the patients around them, all the more painful to behold. us people can't help ourselves, not fully, never fully. so what if we had to?

Demon Bluff: instead of looking for a lying voice, you look for logical inconsistencies. instead of working off a gut and a grudge, demon bluff asks if you, with access to far more information could actually puzzle things out from a social deduction game. and it does so in an almost roguelike fashion, does so with new roles that could never exist in a human-staffed game, does so with simple rules and controls, an elegant escalation of complexity, and near infinite number of possibilities. endlessly engaging, it's a real delight to sink into- and with its pace, even the inevitable slip ups of trusting the wrong person and disbelieving the wrong other person pass in just a moment before the game is ready to get you right back to puzzling it all out again. the demons in it may always lie, but it's the truth that this game is brilliant.

Entropy: a genuinely fantastical fantasy. a world that feels fresh, that feels old, that feels, more than anything, waist deep in waste water. combat is scrappy, spellcasting is sloppy, personal interactions are messy, appearances are scruffy. a simple system for fighting reveals depth in the sheer scale it can reach: a world of swords and demons reveals depth in the ideas of these genetically distinct regional orders, of this world simultaneously more and less dangerous than it may once have been, of afterlives crafted by powers of near human scale that have succumbed to near human kinds of madness. it feels grimy, feels real, feels fun to explore, to fight. the title bears true to the world, but not to the experience of playing it- a game as rich in ideas as it is can leave you with a curious energy to see how it goes that wasn't there before and most certainly isn't diminished after.

Salene: it's a beautiful platformer- and of course i mean that visually, where it's clear- but also in how it feels to handle, in how it structures itself: its jump that accelerates upwards partway through makes it feel like you truly want to reach the heavens, its ripple that accompanies the dimension swap and means that even if you'd end up somewhere you can't go you still get that glimpse in that moment misspent, its well crafted levels and platforming challenges. even just the way it demonstrates health- meaning that there is only the barest of ui, and usually it's not even visible. if there's any games here that can be disappeared into, where you can just focus on inhabiting a world of beauty and of challenge, this is in the upper echelon of them. and much like the player character, if the rest of the game's tricks turn out to be good, it's climbing.

Truck-Kun is Supporting Me From Another World?!: it's silly, it's fun, but it's also fast paced and has an incredible degree of possible mastery. the idea of merging carmageddon with an idle game in roguelike form is not one that would ever occur to me; but i'm incredibly happy it occurred to the great minds at Strange Scaffold because this is a game far far more fun than it should by any right be. from the exaggerated anime tropes that form the daft plot, from the 'mundane' speedy deliveries to boosted ramps, from the hectic back half of a run spent ramming those bastard police cars to the time with the two core characters after, where they play so well off one another (some of their conversations are more touching than anyone could expect). it's relentless fun, right out of left field. actually, instead of relentless, i could say that it constantly hits like a tru-

Echobreaker: a speedrunning game and nothing else. a game just as determined as the figures racing within it. with so many techs to gain those precious milliseconds, and with a clarity of presentation, a generous filed of view, and brilliant sense of speed: chasing platinum times is not just as rewarding as you'd think- it's more. there's no fat on it. and no messing around. you know if you want this. if you also want to win? better get ready to do a damn good job.

Color Bound: colour based puzzle games are a classic for a reason. colour bound, even with its diminutive protagonist, still manages to be head and shoulders above so much of the competition. simple yet devious- incredibly clear yet still beautiful to look at as a wonderful depiction of a native culture, and a charming story in its own right. add on bonus levels that have cute llamas, and you've got a beautiful mixture, colour matched to be brilliantly fun, plenty cerebral, and consistently inventive.

Otterly Lost: it's clearly a kids game, and yet shows a level of consideration for its design that both makes it truly brilliant as that and still good fun for people hoping for more depth than simply the shallows. with all the modes of movement, with all the npcs, and tools, and things to collect, and islands to visit, there's always something engaging to dive right into- and it's pleasant to do so! cute visuals, fun traversal, and charming friends to talk with: it's a cosy land to explore. for anyone looking for that i can't think of many things better.

Deep Dish Dungeon: oddly enough, if i had to categorise this, it wouldn't be in relation to the survival or cooking elements- though they produce some fun interactions and pacing. it wouldn't be in relation to the puzzles or the combat- though there's plenty of both, and done well. it would be in relation to the confluence of all those things and the ability to manipulate and affect objects that makes it an immersive sim of a kind. to play that with a friend, for it to have an open setting perfect for exploring and a mixture of limited light and proximity chat to make it oh so easy to lose each other and important not to, is an obvious kind of great fun. it is a game that just works.

Nocturne: it's a jrpg with a rhythm game instead of combat. that's the simple and fully correct explanation. its story speaks of themes more than it speaks to them. its systems act like an rpg almost to a point where you wonder if it forgets the songs until they hit and the focus shifts to them utterly. but it has a vision- it knows how to try things, it knows what story it wants to tell, it knows the exact experience it is aiming for, and honestly? hits that spot brilliantly well. it's not reinventing anything, but it will certainly find an audience and be a classic to some. if you think that may be you, it's recommended.

Boreal Tenebrae Act 0: it's messy, it's ugly, it's disturbing. it's set in a place that used to be somewhere and isn't anymore, not even for the people still trying to make it a place in the only ways they know. from what little i have seen, from the eyes of children and the eyes of cats, i can't tell quite what is wrong with the place. but if i found it i don't think it'd tell me. it's an obtuse game, one that wants you weak and flailing. and it hopes you see the beauty in that too. because ugliness and beauty are not opposites, and to boreal tenebrae they could be considered bedfellows. i wonder how the distinct parts of the game, of puzzles and survival, can quite fit next to each other: i hope they do- if only to see if the nighttime parts can end up saying something quite like the daytime can.