From the very first punch, Sifu is utterly uncompromising in its design. Absolver developer Sloclap’s latest martial arts beat-em-up is bold, its combat exquisite, its animation top-notch, its music outstanding, and its story – while very simple – is poignant and elegantly told. It’s also unforgiving and unapologetic, with pockets of frustrating moments during which I was certainly not in my happy place. But by the end, Sifu offered me a nearly unparalleled sense of mastery and accomplishment, and I can’t imagine that I would’ve enjoyed it half as much if it pulled its punches.
Successful sequels build on their predecessors in multiple ways – think Mass Effect 2, Assassin's Creed 2, and Uncharted 2. They all improve what came before them by conjuring up exciting new gameplay mechanics, developing characters through engaging stories, and switching up mission design to offer variety. In other words, they take a solid base and combine with new elements to create more advanced bonds, much like an alloy… or in this case, an Aloy. Horizon Forbidden West does this with aplomb, building on the already impressive foundations of 2017’s Horizon Zero Dawn to tell a thrilling story full of familiar explosive combat against elaborate robotic foes and blockbuster action sequences, but also adding Witcher-like settlements to the map and filling it out with great side quests. There’s a genuine sense of exploration and loads of completely involving lore behind it all to uncover. The result is a fantastic open-world action-adventure that, despite falling into a couple of its old habits, emphatically delivers on the promises made five years ago.
In the 87 hours that it took me to beat Elden Ring, I was put through an absolute wringer of emotion: Anger as I was beaten down by its toughest challenges, exhilaration when I finally overcame them, and a fair amount of sorrow for the mountains of exp I lost along the way to some of the toughest boss encounters FromSoftware has ever conceived. But more than anything else I was in near-constant awe – from the many absolutely jaw-dropping vistas, the sheer scope of an absolutely enormous world, the frequently harrowing enemies, and the way in which Elden Ring nearly always rewarded my curiosity with either an interesting encounter, a valuable reward, or something even greater. FromSoftware takes the ball that The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild got rolling and runs with it, creating a fascinating and dense open world about freedom and exploration above all else, while also somehow managing to seamlessly weave a full-on Dark Souls game into the middle of it. It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that Elden Ring ended up as one of the most unforgettable gaming experiences I’ve ever had.
From the first honk of the series’ iconic countdown klaxon, there are moments during Gran Turismo 7 when it feels almost like a remake of the 1997 original. In the space of a moment I’m 16 again and stuffing earthshaking turbos into a bright red Mitsubishi GTO, wondering how I’m going to be able to beat my dad around Trial Mountain when he always gets the DualShock and I have to make do with our only other controller – a terrible, translucent blue aftermarket job with no analogue sticks. That’s a kind of magic a video game series can’t buy; it can only earn. Gran Turismo 7 has that magic; that compulsive car upgrade loop the series established, plus the hot looks and sterling handling to back it up. But there’s a lot more to Gran Turismo 7 than the sum of its nostalgia – even if there are still a few traditions it should’ve left in its rear-view mirror.
Kirby is no stranger to reinvention. His ability to transform himself into all sorts of shapes and sizes aside, the games he’s in often experiment with new settings and gimmicks as well – whether it’s rolling a limbless Kirby with the DS stylus in Canvas Curse, piloting mechs in Planet Robobot, or fundamentally changing how he transforms in Epic Yarn. Kirby and the Forgotten Land might seem like another addition to that list at first glance, this time warping the traditionally 2D structure into 3D levels. But in reality, this platformer feels like the next big step for a more classic Kirby formula rather than an upheaval of it, and it’s one that skillfully translates the things I love about Kirby into a fresh – but still familiar – new perspective.
Like many of developer Supermassive’s previous games, The Quarry is clearly made both by and for people who love horror movies. From the start, it slowly builds tension and atmosphere, getting you invested by constantly asking you to make small decisions that will guide its teenage cast of potential murder victims. By the time the blood started flying, every choice felt like one more step in a rolling disaster, and that made it nearly impossible to put down. When I went back to replay it again, however, it was impossible to ignore just how non-interactive much of The Quarry actually is. As a spiritual sequel to Until Dawn, it's a better movie, but a worse game.
You follow the story of nine camp counselors who get stuck in the woods for one more night at the end of the summer, with nothing to do but throw one last party before they go back to their lives. There's something stalking them from the treeline (because of course there is) and your choices determine which, if any, of the counselors will be able to survive the night. This setup layers three fairly textbook horror plots on top of each other as you progress, but you can tell that Supermassive Games had a lot of fun figuring out how to connect them together. When you play, you may think you're in one type of horror movie, but you're often in another.